Ivan stays…late. Way too late.
I see my dad’s expression when he comes home with the groceries, as he spies me out here with my sort-of-ex-boyfriend, and then glances at my husband, who is sitting on the couch with his boyfriend. I can’t hear him, but I see him groan in confusion.
Ivan laughs a little. “Should I go in and say hi?”
“Nope,” I say, wrapping my arms around my knees, starting to get a little cold as night falls. “I think that nobody in that house is very happy to see you here. Except maybe Janeen. But she just thinks you’re hot.”
“Really,” Ivan says, perking up and looking around for her.
“Don’t,” I say, laughing and swatting his arm. “She’ll just rope you into being one of her regulars at the club. She’ll drain your bank account and leave you sobbing.”
“Yeah,” Ivan say
