The Honey - Don't List

@melissaEllenTripp @The_Rusty_Tripp The show is amazing! Congrats you two! #HomeSweetHome

@melissaEllenTripp melly you are so cute! I need to know where you got the jacket in episode 4! #HomeSweetHome

@melissaEllenTripp @The_Rusty_Tripp I cant with this show. DO ME NEXT #HomeSweetHome

I can’t believe these assholes own my Netflix queue AGAIN. When will I be free?? @melissaEllenTripp @The_Rusty_Tripp #HomeSweetHome

Melly scrolls through the tweets. “I was so worried they’d hate it.”

“How can you even say that?” I say. “You guys killed it. This is what you do! You listened to what they wanted and made sure that’s what they got. That was you. There are a hundred other decorating shows out there, but all of those?” I point to my phone. “Those guys are there for you.”

Melly gives me a teary smile and then looks over at her husband. “Did you hear that?” she asks him. “We did that.”

Rusty rubs a giant hand over his face and puts the footrest down on the recliner. “I need another beer,” he says, and walks into the kitchen.

Unfazed, Melly hands me my phone. “I need to call Ted,” she says. “Thank you, Carey.”

She walks away, phone already up to her ear again. Next to me, James leans forward. “That was really nice of you.”

“I didn’t say anything that isn’t true.” I shrug, absently checking my phone when it vibrates again. “Melly is great on camera and with the clients. It’s everywhere else that she’s a mess.”

We sit down on the love seat and let the next few episodes play, continuing to get updates from Robyn.

ET tweet!

Hypable is livetweeting!

EW has their first article up. They love

The FugGirls are watching and tweeting about Melissa’s hair!

FYI I agree with them. She does look like a Walmart Reese Witherspoon

Carey, make an appt to get that fixed

People, Just Jared, and Pop Sugar tweeted about the show!

By episode six, I’m full as a tick and already regret the three pieces of cake I wolfed down. Stress eating is not my friend. It’s also not escaped my notice that Rusty—back in the La-Z-Boy—is being very quiet, and James seems to be growing more restless with every episode.

“Can I get you anything?” he asks me, standing from the love seat.

“No, thanks,” I say, then look closer. “Hey, you okay? It’s going great. I have a good feeling.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, of course.”

“Okay.” I watch him disappear into the kitchen.

“We’re the top trend!” Melly shouts, dropping into James’s vacant seat. “Take that, Joanna Gaines.”

My phone, Melly’s phone, Rusty’s phone, and I’m assuming James’s phone by the way he rushes out of the kitchen, vibrate at once. Nobody dares to breathe.

The offer for a second season is in. It’s official, we’re a hit.

If I were an outsider looking in, I’d find the mixture of reactions hilarious. Melly jumps off the couch, screaming with joy. She bends to kiss her husband and immediately Skypes Robyn for details. James practically sags with exhausted relief before looking directly at me with an intensity that reads both I’m so relieved I could cry and I’m gonna sex you so hard later. Honestly, I love both translations. Rusty doesn’t even look at his phone and, with a sigh, flips down the footrest of the recliner again and stands.

“I’m gonna go for a walk,” he says.

“Okay. Just—” I pause because what do you say to a six-foot-four adult man? Be careful? “Stay close, okay? It’ll be dark soon.”

“Yes, Mom,” he says, and disappears into the kitchen again.

“I can’t believe we did it,” I say. “Holy shit.” I turn to James, surprised to find him already next to me.

“Yeah, holy shit,” he says, and then he’s kissing me, right here in the middle of the giant family room, with Melly just next door. He’s kissing me like he might never kiss me again. And then he stops.

“We need to decide what we’re going to do.”

“Do about what?” I ask, momentarily confused.

“The show.” He cups my face, smiling as he kisses me again. “Listen. I want you to have all the information before—”

His attention is suddenly snagged away, eyes searching the windows.

“James?”

“Wait—shh. Do you hear that?”

I turn my head where he’s looking and strain to make out exactly what that sound is. “I think it’s a car?”

It takes all of two seconds for both of us to realize what that means. We run to the kitchen and out the back door, feet pounding on the ground to the other side of the house. The car is gone, and so is Rusty.

Thirty minutes. It takes thirty minutes to find a cab, and another forty to get to the nearest bar. Neon signs cover most of the small windows, and a tiny marquee that simply reads HOTSY TOTSY hangs above the door.

It’s dark inside, but I’m glad. The cramped space smells like stale beer, dusty peanut shells, and cigarettes. I would not want to know what this place looks like when brightly lit. The bottoms of my shoes stick to the linoleum as we make our way across the room and spot Rusty surrounded by a few men playing pool.