Page 36 of The Fake Husband Play
Instead, there’s just a faint strain of vintage New Orleans blues—God, I hope Elly loves a blues club asmuch as I do—and Elly’s sweet voice calling, “Be right there, just a sec!”
A moment later, the door opens to reveal Elly, gorgeous in jeans and a faded Turkey Trot Fun Run T-shirt and no makeup, smiling up at me like she can’t believe it’s me.
But…in a good way.
“Movers?” she asks, motioning me inside. “Two of them? Really? For my tiny, one-bedroom apartment?”
I slip past her in the narrow entry, glancing around at what I can see of the kitchen from this angle. A few neatly labeled boxes sit on the floor by the stove, with a pile of gray moving blankets on top. Glancing back over my shoulder, I ask, “They aren’t finished already, are they?”
“No,” Elly says with a laugh, “but not far from it. They’re all done with the kitchen and living room and are finishing up with Mimi’s toys.”
“But don’t worry, I told my stuffed animals what was happening, so they wouldn’t be scared and think they were being given away to the Salvation Army,” calls a little voice from around the corner.
I step out of the entry to see Mimi sitting cross-legged in the middle of the small kitchen island, a slice of pizza in one hand and a handful of lettuce in the other.
“She insists on eating salad with her fingers,” Elly says, noticing the direction of my glance. “I’ve tried to reason with her, but she says you can’t trust lettuce on a fork not to hurt your mouth.”
“I poked myself really hard one time,” Mimi explains, popping the lettuce between her lips and adding as she chews, “This is way better.”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full, you little beastie,” Elly says, squeezing Mimi’s knee as she moves past her toward the open pizza box on the counter, making Mimi giggle. With her dark curls pulled up in a ponytail, she looks more like her mama. They have matching, heart-shaped faces and a stubborn little chin that’s totally fucking cute.
I’ve never thought much about a person’s chin before, but with Elly…
Well, I find all her parts worthy of admiration. Her lips are especially beautiful—full, plush, and so damned responsive.
Against my will, my thoughts go back to that kiss, our first kiss as husband and wife, our first kiss ever. I’ve been doing my best not to think about it too much. About how incredible it was or how much I want to kiss her again…
“How many slices?” Elly asks, loading up a plate. “I gave you a solid serving of salad already.” She glances back at me with a teasing grin, “Don’t worry. You’ll be allowed to use a fork.”
“Are you sure?” I tease, casting Mimi a worried look. “I wouldn’t want to go against the customs of your people.”
Mimi giggles. “You’re silly. Mama, Gee talks silly and does sarcasm. Like you.”
“He does,” Elly says, handing me a plate with three slices and a hefty portion of greens before I can assure her that I can fetch my food myself. “It’s one of the things I like about him.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” I murmur, accepting the food. “I appreciate that.”
“No one calls Mama, ma’am,” Mimi informs me as Isettle into a bar chair on the other side of the island. She spins to face me, another piece of lettuce in hand. “She’s just Elly. Or sometimes, Eloise, if people don’t know her very well. She thinks Eloise makes her sound like she’s a grandma, but I like it.”
“Me, too,” I say, meeting Elly’s gaze across the kitchen. “Aren’t you going to eat, Eloise? Who is clearly not even close to a grandma?”
She laughs and drains the last of her iced tea. “Thanks, but I already had three slices. And I’ll embrace Eloise someday. I just don’t feel like I have my act together enough to pull off a three-syllable name. You want a beer? I think I may have one. I usually don’t on weeknights, but packing up your entire house in a day feels like a beer on Monday kind of occasion.”
“And root beer for me,” Mimi chimes in before I can answer. “I’m exhausted.”
Elly rolls her eyes with a laugh. “Oh, yeah? That twenty minutes of work after school before Gee’s surprise arrived wore you out, huh?”
Mimi nods seriously. “It did. Deciding which stuffed animals would be good travel buddies was a hard job. You know some of them don’t play well with others.”
I laugh and give a little shake of my head. “Girl, you crack me up. Are you telling me you have misbehaving stuffed animals?”
Mimi nods. “My squirrel, Mr. Crackers, is very cranky, and my stuffed rhinoceros is always causing trouble.”
“He has a history of violent outbursts,” Elly confides with thinly contained amusement as she hands me a beer and slides a root beer over to Mimi. “We’ve tried toget him to go to therapy, but he refuses to admit he has a problem with anger management.”
“Well, admitting you have a problem is a big part of the battle,” I say, loving this silly exchange. Elly and Mimi have a special rapport, and I feel honored to have been included in their circle. “But you finally got them sorted out?” I ask Mimi. “All the animals have a safe travel buddy?”
She nods. “Yes, all the good animals are in a pile to go into one box, and all the bad animals are in a pile to go in another box with Henry, my whale. He’s very sweet, but he’s so big, none of the bad animals will misbehave on his watch.”
