Your Bed or Mine? (7 page)

Tish’s smile was deviant. “But you will stay and keep us company, won’t you?”

“I’ll stay as a stand-in for the conscience the two of you obviously don’t have,” Jen huffed.

“Excellent!” Zada exclaimed. “Just stay out of our juvenile delinquent way.”

Zada’s enthusiasm, however, prompted a loud bark.

Simon was sitting stoically in the archway that led into the dining room, waiting patiently for her to notice him.

“There’s my big boy,” Zada said happily.

She walked over, bent down, and scratched the big dog lovingly between the ears. Simon returned the affection by lifting his
head and giving Zada a few sloppy doggy kisses on the side of her cheek. Satisfied with the attention, he trotted back through
the house, heading, Zada knew, for his favorite chair in the den, just off the kitchen.

“That reminds me,” Zada said when she turned back around. “We can’t put anything on the floor that Simon could bump into.”

She walked back to where her partner-in-crime Tish was standing, awaiting her instructions. “And I think for optimum effect,
we need to focus on the things that really drive Rick up the wall.”

“Like parking on
his
side of the garage?” Tish said with a giggle.

Zada grinned. “Perfect. I hadn’t thought of that.”

She pointed to the two floor-to-ceiling bookcases flanking the living room fireplace. “I want those bookcases to look like
one of Rick’s dog training bombs exploded right in the middle of them,” Zada said. “And there’s nothing Rick hates more than
magazines littering the coffee table.”

Tish walked over and began removing magazines from a magazine rack sitting by one of the matching chairs that were positioned
in front of the room’s large bay window.

“Those will do for now,” Zada said. “But I have tons more stored in boxes in the garage.”

“Of course you do, you pack rat,” Tish chirped, reminding Zada that her refusal to throw anything away was another one of
Rick’s big pet peeves.

In minutes, Tish had magazines all over the sofa, on the chairs, and a ton of magazines strewn across the coffee table in
total disarray.

“You have to admit this really is kind of fun,” Tish said as she tossed the last magazine onto an end table.

Busy at the right bookcase, Zada giggled.

Standing in the middle of the room shaking her head in disgust, Jen said, “I have to be insane to stand here and watch this.”

“Welcome to Woodberry Park,” Zada quipped. “The official insane asylum of the suburbs.”

Jen snorted. “That’s the first intelligent thing I’ve heard you say today.”

It took another hour and a few trips to the garage for more magazines before no further havoc could possibly be wreaked in
Zada’s living room. They all three stood in Zada’s foyer, where Zada insisted they all should stand in order to get Rick’s
first impression when he walked through the front door.

“Extreme Makeover: Home Edition,”
Zada said proudly.

Jen said, “Poor Ty Pennington would swallow his freaking megaphone if he saw this place.”

“And his tool belt,” Tish added.

Jen said, “Please tell me the living room is the
only
room you’ve chosen for your master disaster plan.”

“For now,” Zada said. “I truly think this little welcome home statement will be more than enough to send Rick right back out
the door.”

Tish nodded. “I agree. One look at the living room, and Rick will realize he’d never last a full ninety days with this mess
staring him in the face.”

Jen raised an eyebrow. “And if Rick decides to clean the mess up himself and stay?”

Zada shrugged. “He cleans up. I mess up. Not a problem.”

“Oh,” Jen said. “You mean the same way it was before you and Rick separated.”

“Jen!” Tish scolded.

“No, Jen’s right,” Zada said. “It’s no secret I’m not the neat-freak type. But I sure don’t feel the need to apologize for
it. My idea of a home is where I can leave the Sunday paper spread out on the floor all day without once feeling the need
to pick it up. I
live
in my house,” Zada stressed for emphasis. “And if you can’t live in a house, what’s the point in having one?”

Jen blushed slightly.

Like Rick, Jen was the neat-freak type.

And they all three knew it.

“I didn’t mean to sound judgmental,” Jen finally conceded. “I was just trying to point out that your plan might not be as
foolproof as you think.”

“Well, look on the bright side,” always-the-diplomat Tish said. “If Rick does clean this mess up, at least we won’t have to
be the ones who carry all those magazines back to the garage.”

“He’ll fold,” Zada said. “I’m sure of it.”

Jen still wasn’t convinced. “Everything happens for a reason, Zada. You should have been divorced today, but you aren’t. Doesn’t
that make you wonder, even a little, if you’ve been granted an extra ninety days because you and Rick really are meant to
stay together?”

“Not even a little,” Zada said.

Jen frowned. “Do you know the number one cause of divorce, Zada?”

“Yes,” Zada said. “Marriage.”

“Lack of communication,” Jen said, frowning at her again. “There are always two sides to a divorce.”

“True,” Zada said. “My side. And shithead’s. Who, you keep forgetting, walked out on
me.
”

“How could anyone forget Rick walked out on you?” Jen’s hands were on her hips now. “You’ve practically worn a sign around
your neck for the last six months that said ‘Rick Clark walked out on me!’”

I. Beg. Your. Pardon!

Zada was speechless.

“Girls!” a nervous Tish said. “Kiss and make up right now, or I’m going to throw cold water on both of you.”

Jen said, “Be honest with yourself, Zada. It was almost a relief when Rick walked out. You’d been waiting for him to disappoint
you like your father did from the moment you married him. He did disappoint you, and he apologized for that. But you’d rather
sacrifice your marriage than take him back and admit you’re every bit as human as your mother and your sister.”

“Well, thank you, Dr. Phil!” Zada exclaimed.

But Jen was right on target as usual.

Zada finally reached out and put her arm around Jen’s shoulder. “Look,” she said, giving Jen a let’s-not-argue hug. “I know
you love me. And I know you’re equally fond of Rick. I also know you only want what you think is best for both of us. But
if you really want to be a good friend, Jen, you’re going to have to respect my decision, whether you agree with it or not.”

“Okay, you win,” Jen said with a sigh. “I give up.”

“Thank you,” Zada said. “Let’s just hope Rick gives up when he arrives to play
Survivor
in the morning.”

W
hen her alarm sounded at Rick’s idea of morning on Saturday, Zada opened one eye long enough to slap the clock back to sleep.
Why anyone would get up at such a ridiculous hour would always be a mystery to her. She glanced toward the large bay window
on the other side of the bedroom, looking for any signs of early morning light.

Black as pitch.

At 0500 hours, even Mr. Sun was still snoozing.

Bay windows,
Zada thought.

She knew it was silly, but she’d always been a sucker for bay windows. This house had a bay window in every major room, including
her master bath.

She’d fallen in love with the house the second she saw it. She’d loved the distressed white brick, the English cottage look,
and the flower boxes beneath every window across the front of the house.

The fact that the developer had stayed true to the Woodberry Park name he’d given to the subdivision, was also a selling feature
for her. Unlike many new subdivisions that were often stripped bare, only a minimal amount of trees had been cleared from
the lots. That country, woodsy kind of atmosphere also complimented the private golf course that meandered throughout the
subdivision.

The golf course had been the selling feature for Rick.

That, and the New Hope location.

Woodberry Park was less than ten miles from SDS.

The reason she’d set her alarm for 5:00
AM
: She planned to be up, fresh and frisky when Rick arrived. Standing at the top of the stairs. Smiling at his shocked expression
when he saw the mess in the living room.
And
waving good-bye when he said “I give up, you win,” just as Jen had said the night before.

Waving good-bye.

Zada sighed.

Her heart warned her she’d regret letting Rick go.

Her pride reminded her she had no other choice.

She didn’t want to be every bit as human as her mother and her sister, dammit! What had being human ever done for either of
them?

Her mother had ended up with a husband who cheated on her and left her for another woman—a woman who was so worthless she
threw him out twelve years later when the brain tumor appeared. And what had her mother done? She’d taken him back and cared
for him right up until the day he died—as if twelve long years of him ignoring her and his children never happened.

Then there was her sister Sally, who after nine years, was still trying to hold on to a man who couldn’t decide from one day
to the next if he wanted a family or his freedom.

Did she intend to follow in their
humanly
footsteps?

Hell, no!

She intended to be stronger. Smarter. Independent and totally self-sufficient. The way she’d always been—before Rick Clark
walked into her life. Had Rick not been the first man she truly couldn’t resist, she never would have gone along with their
spur-of-the-moment wedding in the first place.

Yesterday’s news,
Zada reminded herself.

She yawned and stretched, waking Simon in the process.

The dog moved from his position at the foot of her bed, crawling on his belly until his head was on the pillow next to hers.
When Simon rolled over on his back, Zada gave him a belly rub, his favorite doggy thing in life.

“It’s been a long time since you were awake this early, hasn’t it, buddy?” she cooed to the dog.

Before Rick moved out, he’d always taken Simon with him on his early morning run. But after Rick left, Zada found it didn’t
take much persuasion to lure Simon over to the dark side, either.

They took their daily walk every morning on the walking trail around the golf course around ten—her true idea of morning—instead
of
noon
as Rick had exaggerated.

It was on those peaceful morning walks that she got most of her ideas for her children’s books. Like the morning Simon had
sniffed out an injured baby bunny, and had brought the bunny to her, holding it as gently in his mouth as a mother cat would
hold one of her kittens.

She and Simon had taken Thumpless—the name she’d given the bunny in her book—to the vet to have his broken back leg splinted.
After the bunny’s leg healed, they’d set Thumpless free in the same place where Simon had found him.

The Bunny Who Lost His Thump
had been her best selling book in her
Simon Sees
children’s series so far—all thanks to one gentle, blind dog whose insight more than compensated for the things he couldn’t
see.

“He’s a good boy, that’s what he is,” Zada cooed.

Simon curled himself into a ball against her.

“Just don’t get too comfortable, buddy,” Zada mumbled. “I’m going to close my eyes for five more minutes. Then we have to
get up. And I have to get beautiful. I want Rick to see the true meaning of irresistible when he walks back through the front
door this morning.”

Zada wasn’t sure if the sound of a car door slamming, or Simon’s low growl snapped her eyes wide open. But one look at the
clock jerked her out of bed.

No! No! No!

She’d only closed her eyes for a minute.

How could it possibly be 7:00
AM
?

Zada flew to the bay window, knowing what she’d find sitting in her driveway, yet praying that she wouldn’t. The large grill
across the front of the ominous green Hummer seemed to be grinning up at her with a big gotcha smile.

Crap! Crap! Crap!

Just when she’d accepted yesterday, along came today!

Now there would be no time to shake, shake, shake her beauty into irresistible—no time to shower or dress.

And if she didn’t hurry?

She’d even miss the shocked look on Rick’s face when he saw the mess waiting for him in the living room.

Her head jerked around when Simon whimpered.

He was sitting up on the bed now, ears pricked to attention, signaling he knew exactly who had just arrived on the premises.

“Stay,” Zada ordered and ran for the bathroom.

The taste of victory would be sweet.

But victory wouldn’t taste near as sweet if she didn’t at least take time out to brush her teeth.

The absence of Zada’s Lexus in the driveway was Rick’s first clue that Zada hadn’t been kidding when she’d said “game on.”
She never parked in the garage. Mainly because her side of the garage was always filled with all of the junk she refused to
throw away.

Rick pushed the garage remote, just to make sure.

There was the Lexus, all right.

Parked on his
junk-free
side of the garage.

Rick slowly counted to ten.

He was
not
going to let Zada rattle him before he even got out of the car. He was stronger than that. He could take anything Zada could
dish out. And he intended to prove it to her!

Back in control, Rick took his keys from the ignition and got out of the Hummer. Minutes later he was walking up the sidewalk
with a duffel bag in each hand, the same way he’d walked down the sidewalk with a duffel bag in each hand six months earlier.

He’d hired a lawn service to take over his yard work after he left, and as he made his way up the walk, he made a mental note
to call the service. The shrubbery lining the sidewalk needed more mulch. He intended to point that out.

An intense thing to do? Probably. But guys like him were intense kind of guys.