Page 26 of My Husband Problem

Oscar gives me a soft, “Murr.”

I look down at him. “I am too. I don’t want him even looking at me and definitely not kissing me.”

Oscar hisses.

“Exactly. That’s better. We hiss at him.”

I turn and head for my bedroom. But, much to my chagrin, Idogive his door a lingering look.

Dammit.

CHAPTER 7

DECLAN

“She has ducks.”

Iris doesn’t respond immediately.

I watch a multi-colored bird emerge from the smaller replica of Astrid’s house as I wait for my assistant and best friend to come up with a reply.

“Ducks?” Iris finally repeats. “Is that a euphemism for something?”

I’m standing on the screened-in porch at the back of Astrid's house.

“Nope. Ducks. Live ones. In her backyard.”

“Oh. And…why?”

I chuckle. “Not sure. I haven’t seen her yet. I was up before she was.”

“Of course you were,” Iris mutters.

Iris is also an early riser, but even she thinks my four a.m. awakenings are ridiculous.

Since four a.m. in Portland is six a.m. in Louisiana, going out for my morning run—and checking out the town in the process—wasn’t quite as outlandish today, though.

And I was certainly not the only person out and about in Rebel this morning. As I ran through Astrid’s neighborhood andthen down Main Street and through the park, I was greeted multiple times with things like, “‘Morning, Declan!”, “Team Declan!”, “Team Miles!”, and “this isn’t a running trail!” when I dodged around a group of men gathered on the sidewalk discussing someone named Rocky spending the night on one of the park benches. I was also waved at, offered muffins, offered coffee, and offered a ride home—allwhileI was running.

I’m now standing on the back porch with a bottle of water, studying the latest way my wife has surprised me.

Fuck.My wife. Even thinking those words still kicks me low in the gut.

“I’ve counted eight,” I tell Iris about the birds of varying sizes and colors, waddling around her yard. Too bad I didn’t call her via video chat. I could have shown her all of this. “There’s a house for them on one side. It looks exactly like Astrid’s house.” I can’t help but smile at that. I wonder if the interior has orange and brown wallpaper and flooring. “There are alsothreeponds of various sizes. One has a waterfall. And there are lots of plants and flowers.”

I don’t know what these flowers are—I’m not really a plant and flower guy—but I do know we don’t have them in Oregon, and they scent the air with a sweetness that I find myself wanting to breathe in deeply.

It’s a damned oasis back here.

I lift my water and take a drink. I live in downtown Portland. There’s some grass and trees. I regularly run in a very nice outdoor area. It’s not like I’m deprived of greenery or nature. But this is…right here. Right outside the door. And private. And quiet. There’s no traffic, no construction noise, no other people. I take a deep breath. The humidity and the lush plants and trees make the air softer and fuller than what I’m used to, and I feel like it soothes my lungs as it moves in and out.

“I’ll send you a few photos,” I tell Iris. “It’s…something.”

I don’t mention the absolute eyesore that’s positioned near the stone pond—the largest of the three. The other two ponds are just large plastic tubs, possibly made specifically for ducks. But the pond is dug into the ground, surrounded by carefully constructed stonework, and is the one with the waterfall flowing into it. I assume there is a pumping system under the water that keeps the water cycling and clean. Because the two plastic “ponds” are definitely muddier than that one.

But next to that very pretty pond and waterfall is something even uglier than the couch in Astrid’s living room. It’s a free-standing swing, upholstered in a glaring green, yellow, and orange floral pattern. It also has a huge awning with the same floral pattern and fringe…thick, white fringe. The awning juts up from the back and protrudes over the seat of the swing to provide shade—and more atrocity.

It’s ugly as hell, but, at the same time, swinging in the shade next to the pond with the sound of the waterfall…yeah, that could be relaxing. If I closed my eyes.