Page 13 of Husband of the Year
“That I don’t live with,” she clarifies.
“Nick and Maria will be glad to hear it.”
Maria is almost two, and she’s talking up a storm. With her growing vocabulary, she’s speaking three-word sentences. And Nick is the… Nickest. He’s a wonderful father, which, of course, makes Jill and me swoon over him even more, and when we all get together, he and Olan bond over daddy/daughter shenanigans.
“You survived Mexico, I see—still pale as a ghost.” Jill lifts my chin, inspecting my face. “Did you eventryto get any color?”
“He enjoys being pale,” Illona says as she drops her backpack and stands by the door.
“No, this”—I point to my chin—“is about skin care. And safety. The sun ravages your skin.”
“When you have no pigment,” Jill says, dropping my chin and moving toward Illona. “Us beauties,” she says, taking Illona’s face in her hands, “know how to handle the sun.” She turns and gazes down at Illona and adds, “But a good sunscreen still helps.”
Illona clutches her backpack to her chest. “Noted. May I go write now?”
“Yes, sweetie. I’ll be right over,” I say. Olan’s rule is no tablet once we’re at school, and Illona prefers to write and draw in her journal while I prepare for the day.
Shutting the door so it’s only open an inch, Jill whispers, “So, how much hotel sex did you have?”
“Excuse me?”
“Vacation sex. Hotel sex. No kids to worry about interrupting you. With crying. Diapers. Wanting something from you.” Jill’s gaze wanders out the window. “No responsibilities. No adulting required. Just the two of you. Far away.”
“You know, Olan and I are happy to take Maria for a night. Even a sleepover. We have all those extra rooms, and you know how Illona feels about her.”
“Really? You’d do that?” A glimmer in her dark eyes sparkles. “Nick would never. I mean, really? Maybe. Let me talk to him.”
I take Jill’s hand and offer a supportive smile. “Of course I mean it. I wouldn’t offer otherwise. We love Maria. And Olan is always going on and on about Illona growing up too fast. He’d love a weekend with a baby.”
“Maria’s not a baby. She’s almost two. They don’t call it the terrible twos for nothing.”
“We can handle her. Talk to Nick. Let us take her for a night.”
Jill’s family calls the picturesque state of California home, while Nick’s dad is occupied with his second-shift duties at an Ohio glass factory. They don’t have much of a support system here in Portland other than, well, us.
“If we take Maria on a weekend we have Illona, she can help. Honestly, if we took her on a weekend Illona was with her mother, she’d be upset about missing her stay.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll talk to Nick.” Jill hugs me, and the faint scent of her perfume, with hints of vanilla, comforts me. “Thank you.”
“So.” Jill pulls away and resumes her pre-day rituals. “Hotel sex?”
“Amazing. But also there was…” I lower my voice, even though we’re alone. “Beach sex.”
“Yeah, there was.” She walks over and holds her hand up. Despite the juvenile locker-room shenanigans, I can’t help but relent and give her a high five, the sound echoing through the room. “And now, back to life,” she says.
“Back to reality.” The chords and melody swirl in my head, but I quickly shoo them away.
“It’s almost March. The wedding is in…” I quickly count up to August, putting a finger up for each month. “Five months. We haven’t done much. I mean, we’ve picked the venue. And The Ocean Inn seems to do most of the work. I think. We need to go back and meet with them at some point. Pick the dinner choices. That sort of thing. I’m not sure when. I think I have it…” I pull out my phone and open the calendar app, searching for the appointment. I know I put it in here. Or thought I did. Maybe it was Olan who put it on his phone. I should text him and ask. And tell him I love him. And miss him. After all that… hotel sex.
“Well, I’m here if you need anything,” she says. “Emotionally. I’m not actually able to do much. With the baby. And full-time job, and all.”
I laugh because gender stereotypes be damned—Jill Kim is goingto be my best man. Although we haven’t quite settled on what to call her yet.
“Spoken like a true Best Person.” Jill’s face contorts like I’ve just told her the district is moving to a year-round calendar. “No? Best Person?”
She shakes her head. “Too generic.”
“Best Gal?” I ask. Jill cocks her head, contemplating before her cheek twists up and her eye squints. “Groomsperson? Groomslady?”
