Page 36

When you use the kitchen, clean up after you are done. Dirty dishes go in the dishwasher; counters are to be wiped down.

If you want meals, you eat what I cook. Mealtimes vary depending on the bakery and Ethan’s schedule. The schedule will be posted in the kitchen. If you are not home when meals are ready, leftovers will be in the fridge.

The top floor is off-limits. This includes my bedroom, Carter’s bedroom, and Brooke’s room. If Ethan invites you into his, that is the only time you are welcome upstairs.

No overnight guests.

You will behave. This means no critical remarks about me, the bakery, Brooke, any part of her life, or Ethan and his life. You will be polite to Carter, or you will ignore him. You will not create tension in my house, or you will be gone.

NO OUTSIDE DRAMA. If you cause any problems for my business, or for Carter’s career, your lease is cancelled. Same applies to Ethan’s draft prospects.

Failure to follow any of these rules will lead to your immediate eviction.

“What the fuck, Janie? A laundry schedule? Housecleaning? I have to clean my own bathroom?” Chad’s voice got louder with every word, his outrage growing exponentially.

I crossed my arms over my chest and tipped my head up to look him straight in the eye. “You’re a tenant in my house and are supposed to be a grown man. You need to act like it. I’m not your maid, or your wife anymore. I expect my house kept clean so we don’t attract pests. You either clean things yourself, like everyone else living here does, or hire a cleaning service.”

Not that you can afford that, apparently. I wasn’t backing down on this one. When we were married, it had been my job to cook, clean, take care of the kids, and do all the emotional labour for the family. As soon as I moved back home, the kids had continued learning the basic life skills I had started teaching them in Texas: cooking, cleaning, and laundry. By the time Brooke had gone off to school last year, both of them were capable of taking care of themselves once they were on their own. I wouldn’t allow them to grow up spoiled, and I was not going to backslide into old habits because I was stuck living with Chad again.

Chad’s face flushed red, and he shifted his stance, filling more space to make himself look imposing. I hid my amusement and stood toe-to-toe with him, practically daring him to try to intimidate me. A lot had changed since our divorce, and I had zero fucks left to give for his manufactured outrage. He either agreed to my rules, or he left. Option two was my preference.

Realizing that I would not back down, Chad stepped back and shifted gears. “Janie, you know I’m terrible at housecleaning. You’re so much better at it than I am. I’ll never be able to keep things up to your standards. What if I pay you a little more each month, and you handle the cleaning for me?”

He leaned casually against the wall, trying to look sheepish and boyish, and failing spectacularly. Being married to him for almost twenty years meant I could read his every move. Since he couldn’t intimidate me into agreeing with him, he was trying to charm me into letting him have his way. Too bad for him, being humiliated on social media had left me immune to any charm he once had.

“In case you forgot, I have a business to run. One that requires me to work long hours, often six days a week. It’s baseball season, and landing the Fliers contract means I’m busier than ever. I barely have time to keep up with my own responsibilities; I’m definitely not taking on yours. I told you—either you do it yourself, or you hire someone. If neither of those options appeals to you, I repeat: The door is behind you.” I pointed at the front door.

Chad scowled as he picked up the pen lying on the countertop and scrawled his signature on the agreement. The deep creases around his mouth made any hint of boyishness disappear. Traces of silver frosted the blond hair at his temples, and years of playing ball in the sun without proper sunscreen had left his skin looking weathered.

It had been a long time since I’d really looked at Chad, and it hit me that all traces of the boy I’d fallen in love with in high school were gone. Career disappointments and bad life choices had cost him everything that mattered to him, and he had become a bitter, angry man.

“There. Happy now?”

I made sure the smile I gave him was carefully bland. Gloating would only make this situation worse. I was certain he would screw up and be gone before Brooke got home in two weeks, but for Ethan’s sake I wouldn’t purposely sabotage this arrangement.

“Thank you. Here are your keys, and I’ve programmed the alarm with a code for you. I made it one I knew you’d remember.”

I handed him the keys and a slip of paper I’d already written the code on. I’d chosen his total career strikeouts, a number I knew he was proud of and would never forget. It was also random enough that no one except an uber fan would guess it. He didn’t have a lot of those in Red Rock, especially after the viral video from the bar.

Chad glanced briefly at the code before crumpling the paper and shoving it and the keys in his pocket. “Fine. I’ve got my stuff in my truck. I can handle it from here.”

Fine by me. I nodded and turned my back on him, more than happy to be done with this conversation. I had other things to worry about. Carter was leaving for his first road trip later this week, and Chad added another wrinkle to our already complicated situation. And I had to tell Brooke. She was not going to be happy. Might as well get that out of the way.

I went upstairs and closed my bedroom door before grabbing my tablet to video chat with my daughter.

“Hey, Mom.” Brooke’s smiling face filled the screen, and I saw her dorm room behind her, with open boxes stacked on her bed.

“Did I interrupt you packing?” I couldn’t wait for her to come home, even if it was only for a few months.

Brooke laughed. “No, those are all empty. I’ve been studying. Exams start next week. How was opening weekend?”

I filled her in on how the weekend had gone, including the emergency baking session after Friday’s game.

“Are you ready for your exams?” I asked.

Brooke had always been a strong student, but university was different. Her fall semester exams had been tougher than she expected.

“Almost. Now that I know what to expect, I’m preparing differently than I did for my last set. My anatomy exam is first, and that one I’m ready for. Organic chemistry and biology will be okay too. I’m studying for the statistics course, because that’s the hardest one for me. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”