Chapter Four
It’s day one of being clued in on the fact that I’m locked in a battle of wills, and I’m lagging behind.
Nicholas has enjoyed a leisurely stretch of uninterrupted time surveying our battlefield while I grapple blindly like a video game character stuck in a glitch.
He’s been strolling along, hands clasped behind his back, burying land mines with finesse.
He’s going to win this, like he wins everything.
I think of his gold Maserati and my Saturn sharing curb space.
I groan and nearly give in when I sit up in bed and pluck off the Skittle he’s left half-melted to my arm, leaving behind colorful mermaid scales.
Nicholas doesn’t work today but he’s gone somewhere else after dropping off those stupid cookies, probably off to braid his mother’s hair.
Does he even eat the Skittles or does he simply dump them there, trying to piss me off?
I’m tempted to pack my bags and go right now, but that would be playing into what he wants.
If anyone’s going to pay Deborah back for three hundred customized champagne flutes with N she’s pulled away from the phone to check the caller ID and make sure my voice isn’t an auditory hallucination.
“Hope you’re not busy,” I say with a huge smile on my face. It’s Saturday morning. Deborah’s got more activities on her calendar than the president, and I’m definitely interrupting something. “I wanted to talk about the floral changes that were made to my wedding without my consent.”