Page 38 of The Husband Diet
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On our way to Italian lessons (yes, we were finally getting a hold of our own life), I caught a glimpse of Judy, in a plaza, coming out of a supermarket. Before I could call her, she jumped into a shiny new jeep, and the man inside grabbed her and kissed her at length. It wasn’t her husband, Steve. What the hell was wrong with everybody? Was betrayal contagious now? I was so shocked I rammed my Kia van straight into a parked car.
‘Mo-om!’ Warren wailed.
Shit.
‘We can’t be late! We can’t be late! Please, Mom!’ Madeleine begged. ‘We’re doingcolorstoday!’
I dared a glance in Judy’s direction. My little crash had brought her back to Earth and she turned to look at me in surprise. For a moment our eyes met. She had a look I’d never seen before. She spoke to him quickly and they drove off. Meanwhile, my crash victim had materialized, yelling and cursing at me.
‘What the hell, lady! You blind or what?’
I guessed I was. More than I thought. Judy had a lover. After three kids and an eleven-year marriage.Anda fantastic husband like Steve.
I sat there, stupefied, and when things couldn’t get worse, who (you guessed it) happened to come out of the sports store but Julian Foxham! He spotted me and the yelling man, and instantly came over to see what the kerfuffle was all about.
‘What’s the problem here?’ he asked. ‘Erica, are you OK?’
‘Hi, Mr. Foxham!’ Warren and Madeleine chimed in unison.
And then Maddy added, ‘We’re going to be late for our Italian lessons.’
I sighed as my hand drove through my hair. ‘We’ve just had a little fender-bender, that’s all.’
‘This chick ran into my car!’ the man spat.
Julian turned to him. ‘Easy, mate. Let’s see your insurance.’
Oh, just great. The last thing I needed was Julian coming to my rescue. ‘I can handle it, Julian, thanks.’
The man stared at him. ‘You’re Julian Foxham! The former Red Sox baseball champion! Man! I can’t believe it. Can I have your autograph, sir?’
Huh?
Julian grinned. ‘Absolutely, just as long as you don’t give my friend here any grief.’
‘Nah,’ the guy said as he disappeared to rummage through his glove compartment for pen and paper.
I stared at him in disbelief, then at Julian, who shrugged his shoulders with the cutest, most annoying grin.
‘Glad to help,’ he said.
‘Gee, thanks,’ I said more sarcastically than I meant, and Julian studied me with a strange light in his eyes.
It was my turn to gape. I was standing elbow to elbow with a sports star and I’d had no idea.
‘All this time and I’ve been acquainted (my underwear flashed through my mind) with a baseball star?’ I asked.
He shrugged. ‘It was a long time ago.’
‘And now you are a principal? Why?’
Julian shrugged again, turning red as if I’d caught him stealing. ‘I broke my arm a few years back, lost my swing and eventually decided to use my degree in education, after all. My dad is a die-hard scholar. He teaches English literature in London. Plus, I like kids.’
‘I just called a tow truck – for both of us,’ the man volunteered as he returned, and Julian paused before signing his autograph.
‘What’s your name?’
