intentions. But I just can’t see a way out that won’t crush her.
As she leans forward to knock, I adjust my black and orange tutu and send up a silent prayer he shows up.
To be fair, Liam’s been much better since the divorce. I just can’t help but worry every time he and Chance get together that he will lose track of time. That stupid club of theirs was the crux of all our problems. I refused for his daughter and I to play second fiddle then, and he better believe we aren’t going to start now.
“El!” Her best friend, Kennedi, pulls the heavy wood door open, ushering us inside. She’s dressed in a black witch costume with her face painted puke green. Her springy red curls have been tucked beneath a long black wig. The change in the little ginger’s appearance is shocking to say the least.
“The wart is a great touch, Ken,” I say, hugging her as we enter the fog-filled room. “Almost didn’t know it was you.” The Larsons really went all out. The place is hardly recognizable with the barrage of ghoulish decor.
“Thanks Ms. Nya. I love your pumpkin costume too. Very—well, not really creative per say…but definitely cute!”
I snort laugh at the blunt honesty of my pseudo child. “Thanks, kid.”
The two girls run off to join their friends on the makeshift dance floor while I mosey over to the dessert table to prepare a plate of treats to nibble on. I’m hoping like hell to be able to hide away in the shadows and avoid answering questions about my newfound marital status.
“So…I guess the rumor is true.” I’m not even granted two solid minutes of peace before Alexa, Kennedi’s mother, appears beside me, eying the ring on my left hand. Her thick orange hair is piled high in a bun on top of her head, and her lips are lined and painted bright red. It only takes a second for me to figure out her costume, Lucy Ricardo from I Love Lucy. It’s perfect for her. “You and Liam finally got back together.” She smiles big, showcasing the red lipstick on her teeth while I choke on a peanut M&M. What does she mean, finally?
I’m wiping the tears from my eyes, trying to locate my voice when I feel a warm hand at the small of my back. “‘Bout time, right?” Liam interrupts. “You okay, pumpkin?”
“Oh, you’ve got jo—ohh—kes.” The cat steals my tongue the moment my eyes take in his ensemble.
His costume consists of a black tee with “Peter, Peter,” in bright green vinyl letters centered in the front, paired with jeans that fit his trim body to perfection. His mouth and chin are coated in orange paint with pumpkin seeds somehow adhered to his skin.
“Ohhhh, I get it now.” Charles, Kennedi’s dad, shakes a finger at Liam before bursting into hysterics. He’s dressed up as Lucy’s husband, Ricky, of course. The pair are so cute it’s nauseating.
“Tu pendejo…” Asshole. My face flames with humiliation as I growl the expletive.
“Peter, Peter?” Alexa backs up a step, eying our costumes side by side before she too giggles. “Pumpkin eater… She’s a—” Her finger darts out at me. “A pumpkin! Oh my God. This is brilliant.”
“This,” I say, eying his orange mouth, “is beyond embarrassing. There are children present, Liam.”
“Oh, chill.” His arm snakes around my waist, pulling me flush against his body. I have to force myself not to melt into him as his sexy scent engulfs me. “The girls are too young to understand the innuendo behind it. It’s funny.” He digs a finger into my side forcing me to laugh. “Lighten up.”
“Pumpkin eater!” Ellie runs up to her dad, doing the fist bump-high five- dance thing they do. Their own secret handshake, if you will. “You found a way to coordinate with Mom after all! Great job.”
“Never doubt your old man,” he tells her before leveling me with a warning look. It’s a challenge. He’s cautioning me not to underestimate him in this little game of house.
He may have won this round, but I still say he’s the one who shouldn’t underestimate me.
Liam
Premature evaluation
“It says here you’ve been married… one week.” Dr. Tate’s overplucked right brow rises as she pushes her bushy blonde hair behind her squared shoulders, eyes her clipboard, then looks first to Nya and then to me. “Isn’t it a little soon for couples’ therapy?”
My former ex-wife crosses her arms, sinking back into the plush couch with a triumphant smirk.