The Rule Book

by Sarah Adams

I love you, Mom, and you continue to reign supreme in my life. Just under Dolly Parton.” “It’s because of her bedazzled outfits, isn’t it?” “Her boobs actually. I’d give anything to have a pair of glorious melons like hers.”

“Got it. Writing it down. Fifty percent…less…happy,” I say like I’m taking studious notes. “And now I’m wadding it up and throwing it in the garbage where it belongs. Anything actually productive I can help you with?”

“Text me your address, Dere-Bear. I’m on my way.” “Never cutesify my name again,” he says and then hangs up without another word.

Well, now a new nickname pops into my head. Derek the Dickhead. At least this attitude of his will help me get rid of these pesky feelings I’ve been carrying around for him. But first, I change his contact in my phone to Dere-Bear.

Last I heard, the NFL used weights in the training facility, but I think they’re lifting cars.

“What exactly am I doing here, boss?” “Don’t call me boss.” “Okay, Derek-bo-berek-fe-fi-fo—”

He’s giving Darth Vader right now—wholly committed to the Dark Side.

I watch a YouTube video from a sweet angel who really holds my hand through the whole process, and by the time I’m finished with the noodles, I feel like Julia Child’s offspring.

There’s a little trail of blood gliding down the top of my foot along with two small pieces of glass sticking out. This is the end for me. Tell my mom I love her. Please send all my money to the Knitters of America Association because I feel like it’s an underappreciated operation and I’ve always wanted to learn to knit.

You were mine once.

He’s always been a drug that zips through my veins and alters me.

I find the chicken suit that I wore for Halloween five years ago laid out on my bed. There’s a note beside it. “Wear this, you’ll look clucking irresistible,” with a little laughing smiley face drawn beside her corny joke.

Derek is a founder of one of the biggest foundations that helps struggling single moms pay their rent or mortgage, but he funds it anonymously. When I read that email, my heart stopped. Because I happen to know that Derek does not have a single mom. In fact, he comes from a family with a mom and dad very much in support of each other. But I was raised by a single mom…and Derek knows this.

“And for the love of fashion and professionalism, please stop wearing clothes like that.” “Never.” I hop off my desk and pat my thighs. “It has pockets.”

She is sunshine parting the clouds in my miserable day, and it makes me angrier.

Don’t let her smile fool you, she’s covered in yellow daisies but she’s dangerous as hell.

“That breaks my heart, and I’m not going to allow it. You deserve good things no matter the outcome of your injury. You’ve worked hard your entire career and earned it. And you know what else? Not everyone thinks your position is going to go to Abbot. I believe in you. I do, Derek.”

I miss it, that smile. It was so warm I would feel it all the way in my toes.”

“Are you still in love with her?” For once I’m too tired to fight with him. “Yes, I am. Deeply. Terribly.”

The bartender sets her drink down and lingers a second, hoping to catch her eye (because I guess he feels like dying tonight). But Nora doesn’t see him. She’s staring at me. We’re both confused as hell.

We stare at each other’s ring fingers. “It’s possible…” he begins with a measured calm, “…that we got married last night.”

WHAT?!

“I think we should stay married,”

“Hate is not the word for it, remember? It was never hate.”

“It’s the IOU I gave you.”

“I want to use it now,” he says confidently. “I want you to stay married to me for damage control—you owe me.”

“Well…I can’t argue with this very formal and binding IOU, now can I?” “I wouldn’t advise it. I do have good lawyers.”

“Might want to rinse your hair out. You’re about to get shampoo in your eyes,” he says, and that’s when I realize I’m having this lovely, effervescent moment with a bubble wig on my head. Sexy as always, Nora.

“I should never have assumed that I wouldn’t immediately fall in love with Nora all over the second I saw her again.

He looks so genuine. So heartfelt. Why does it feel like he’s telling the truth right now?

We are married now and not ashamed of it.”

Good lord above, what a convincing act.

She ends the meeting, and me and my husband are immediately swamped in overwhelming silence. Buckle up, Nora, you’re going on a honeymoon with your ex.

“Now that is a lion sculpture! We’ve got to get you one of those. It could be a daddy lion to your baby lion.” She gasps. “Mufasa for your Simba!”

I put my hand to the small of her back, ignoring the way it fits like a lock and key. How I never want to remove it.

“Um—protecting you. What does it look like?” She’s…oh my god. This woman.

“Nora. You’re staring at my mouth.” It comes out unplanned and maybe a tad too hopeful. She doesn’t look away. “Because you finally smiled. I don’t want to miss it if it happens again.”

“I was just thinking about how I’m really going to have to wear sunglasses on the beach, or I’ll be blinded by the light of your stomach.”

“You’re making sure the inanimate objects have a shot at equality?” I run my hands over the sofa like I’m searching for its ears. “Shh. You never know when this could turn into a Beauty and the Beast situation, and all this furniture might come to life. You want to be on their good side.”

I’m unfiring you.”

Because you’re the best one for the job.

And just for added measure, we’ll sleep feet to face.” “You mean sixty—” “Don’t finish that sentence,” he warns, and the serious note to his voice has me thinking maybe he’s not so unaffected after all.

“That’s sadder than a wet Pomeranian puppy.”

“Oh no. Did Peter Pan leave Neverland for good?”

“Sure! Absolutely. I’m very excited for you to have godly teeth too.”

“You’re always loony, Nora.”

More alarming is I can’t bring myself to move away.

I slide my eyes to Derek and…he winks at me. Holy Mother of Harry Styles.

the closest thing I have to a therapist is The Great British Bake Off.

“Derek Pender. You’re not…you wouldn’t be riding the jealous train into Possessive City, would you?”

“Please, Ginger Snap, will you tell me the names of the guys you dated?”