I took a long, hot shower and put on an over-sized tee shirt that had seen better days. Dragging my feet as I walked through the room, I sat down on the bed to brush my hair and made the mistake of leaning back to get comfortable.
I jerked awake the next morning stiff from falling asleep in the upright position and a long string of drool sliding down the left side of my chin. I flopped onto my side like a beached whale to discover Jake’s side of the bed was still made. It took all of two confused seconds for realization to dawn on me, and I let out a chuckle. He was so skeeved-out by the poop germs that he never came to bed.
Spying the clock on his nightstand, I jumped out of bed. I had plans to meet Kat at 10:30 for mani-pedi day. The clock read 10:02. I was so screwed. I figured since I had fallen asleep right after showering, I could just toss on some clothes and be done with it. The theory was sound… until I went to brush my teeth and caught a glimpse in the mirror. Not only was the hairbrush still in my hair, it had created a glorious rat’s nest. My hair had seen a wide spectrum of colors over the years. Currently, it was red. Cognac, according to my long-time hairdresser, Dee. The color, combined with my fair skin, made my blue eyes pop.
While I dug the hairbrush out, I eyed myself in the mirror. As all women do when they come in range of a reflective surface, I turned sideways and patted my stomach to see how fat I was. I had to admit, all the time spent on my feet running between patients had done wonders for my waistline. Gone was the pooch that had plagued me for the last two years. Instead, my tummy was flat. Of course, I had no illusions that it was toned by any means, but I would gladly take flat over pooch any day.
Jake was sitting at the kitchen table with his laptop when I emerged from the shower. The smell of fresh coffee wafted over to me and I sighed with pleasure. “God, I love you. Have I told you that you are truly the best hubs in the world? Girls all around are jealous that such a perfect specimen exists. And you’re all mine. Seriously, how did I get so lucky?” Immune to my thinly veiled, good-natured bit of sarcasm, he looked up at me with a mischievous smile on his face.
“So, you want to get lucky eh?” He waggled his eyes at me lasciviously. “I can make that happen.”
“No time. It’s girl day. And I’m late, as usual.”
“Fine, but you’re missing out on this perfect specimen.” He got up from the table and walked toward me. His cockiness was not unfounded. Jake was one of the most attractive men I’d ever laid eyes on. He was my sexy, doe-eyed, Italian stallion. I usually gave him a hard time about his facial hair, because he often sported a five-o’clock shadow. While the scruff only added to his rugged good looks, it was itchy when we kissed. He was about six inches taller than me and his body was muscles in all the right places.
I thought he was going to give me a kiss and hug goodbye, but he stopped five feet away, then turned around and mooned me. I covered the rest of the distance, laughing the whole way.
“Thank God you’ve got such a sense of humor, because you’ve been cursed with a flat ass.” He caught me up in a tight hug and unleashed a barrage of kisses on my neck before I ran for the garage and hopped into the car, defying speed limits in an attempt to make it to the salon on time.
Chapter 02
Happy Wife, Happy Life
“Shellac? What the fuck is shellac?”
“Jeez, you have a language problem. Has anyone ever told you that? You should put a swear jar in your house. I bet you’d be able to fund your kids’ entire college career.” Kat held her hand up like she was Vanna White and wiggled her newly manicured nails in my face.
Frankly, I didn’t see a difference between shellac and regular nail polish, but I told the Vietnamese manicurist sitting across from me to go for it.
“Speaking of kids. When are you and Jake going to start trying? You’re not getting any younger, you know,” Kat asked.
I groaned. “Not you, too! Have you been talking to my mother-in-law? I swear to God, if I get asked that question one more time my head is going to explode. I’d love to start popping out the puppies, but my uterus apparently doesn’t share the sentiment.”
When Jake and I met in our twenties, we had agreed that we wanted at least two kids, great careers, and a house with a white picket fence. Now married, and over a decade later, I fell into the ‘high risk’ category because I was over thirty-five—thirty-seven to be exact. My picket fence turned into a privacy fence so we could have late-night skinny dips in the pool without prying eyes, and my career would get some forward momentum after I finished nursing school.
“Anyway, I have to go pick up the girls from school before they’re left standing alone like latch-key kids. Good thing we didn’t carpool. I didn’t realize how late it was. Oh, have I mentioned how glad I was to not be on your unit last night?” She laughed at me. Kat was a wife and mother, the kind that baked cupcakes and cookies with her kids every weekend. Kat and I often drove together to class. We lived only a few minutes from each other, which made it convenient to have frequent study sessions lounging in my pool. Was it still considered studying if our books were in the house and we finished off a bottle of wine?
“Yeah, it was pretty bad. At least I get to spend tomorrow night down in the ER. If I have to choose a body fluid to deal with, I’ll take blood over shit any day. Let’s try to meet in the cafeteria at some point for dinner. Synchronize your watch.”
Jake was walking up the driveway when I got home. “Ah, my queen, I’ve been waiting for you to grace me with your presence.”
“To what do I owe the pleasure, my king?” He wrapped me in a bear hug as I got within reach and planted a big ol’ wet one on me.
“We have a date.” He motioned to the garage. The door stood open and two shiny new bicycles stood in the middle. A cooler was strapped to the back of the bigger one, a big red bow on the smaller. “Go get changed. I’m taking my baby to the beach… in style.”
I ran in the house and threw my bathing suit on under a pair of shorts and a clean t-shirt. I hadn’t ridden a bike since I was in high school. I grew up in Northboro, Massachusetts. One of those small towns where everyone knows everyone else and instead of busting you for delinquent behavior, the cops drove you home for your parents to deal with. At least that’s how it was for me. My dad was the dog trainer for the police department. He wasn’t a cop himself, but they treated him like one of the boys.
Even though it was Small Town, USA, my parents were always overly strict. I attributed it to the fact that both of them had been raised in the city. My dad was from Allston, one of those places where you didn’t take walks after the sun went down, unless you wanted to lose something valuable.
They wouldn’t let me drive in any of my friend’s cars until I got my own license. Talk about a social life killer. When I was eleven they bought me a bright canary yellow ten-speed bike. I was mortified when I saw it. For crying out loud, I was a preteen girl, which meant appearances were everything. The bike was so bright that I swear it glowed in the dark. I just could not bring myself to advertise that thing around town for fear of the reputation ramifications. Luckily, my parents were so strict that they wouldn’t let me ride it off our dead end street. Crisis averted. Mind you, their caution was not without merit. I was a major klutz. A strong gust of wind could cause me to trip and fall.
One day my dad finally decided I was old enough to graduate from my tiny street and took me on a ride to the center of town. I knew the ride was a test to see if I could handle the great outdoors. Everything was going great until I hit a sandy patch on the sidewalk. The rear tire fishtailed and I landed on my ass. Let’s just say we walked the bikes back home, and I spent a few more months on the street. I had my revenge, though. By the time I hit high school, their trepidation was all but gone.