Mr. Masters (Mr. 1)

“I wish I went home with those two guys last night. I bet I would feel less of a slut than I do now.” I sigh.

“If you did go you home with those two guys last night, they would have taken turns fucking your ass all night, and we would be in emergency right now getting it sewn back together.”

I wince at the thought. “Oh God. Can you imagine?”

“Just suck it up for a few weeks until we find you another job. Take the kids out today, do something fun and outdoorsy so that he doesn’t think you are staying at home, nursing a hangover.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.” I wonder where I could take them?

“Look, he’s been drunk before, surely. Nobody is that perfect.”

“I honestly doubt it. He stays home and studies his thesaurus.”

She giggles. “Just behave yourself until we find you another job.”

I roll my eyes. “Fine.” I shake my head. “But if you ever buy me another cocktail, I’m tipping it over your head.”

She laughs, and I hang up.

I sit for a moment as I process her words, knowing she’s right. I can’t fuck this whole thing up until I get another job.

Which brings me to my next problem: the kids. I march up into the house with renewed determination, and I find them both on the sofa, lazing like sloths with their phones in their faces. “Let’s go out for the day.”

“Pass,” Willow sighs without looking up.

I lift my chin to stare at the ceiling, and I suck in a breath. Please, God, give me the strength to deal with her today. I don’t want to add a murder to my list of misdemeanors.

“It’s a beautiful day, so we’re going outdoors. You can pick the activity,” I announce.

Sammy frowns as he thinks. “We could play golf like Dad does?”

“Hmm. I don’t think your father would appreciate us annoying him.”

“No, Dad has gone far away to play golf. He told me so. We could just play at the country club down the road.”

“We don’t have any golf clubs. What else could we do?” I say.

“We have golf clubs. We can use Dad’s old ones that are in the garage,” Sam replies.

Hmm, I don’t feel like driving around. Unless…

I glance over at the phone constantly attached to Willow’s palm. “Willow, you could drive the golf buggy.”

Her eyes lift to mine. “Really? You would let me drive?”

“Of course, why not?”

She sits up, her excitement stirring.

“I could make us a picnic, we could play some music on our phones, and we could enjoy an afternoon out in the sun.”

Willow bites her bottom lip. She can’t show me she’s excited, that would go against her game plan. “I suppose I could do that… for Sam, I mean,” she eventually agrees. For Sam. Obviously.

I smile and place my hands on my hips. “Well, we just have to wait for a few hours.” I can’t tell them we have to wait until the alcohol has left my system. “But once we’re ready, we’ll go and have fun.”

“Woohoo!” Sammy squeals as he punches the air.

I frown. “What do you wear to play golf in London?”