Page 43 of My Husband Problem

Wilson had taken one taste of the sausage gravy Astrid had left for me, grimaced, said, “Oh, that won’t do,” and started rummaging in her cupboards. Fifteen minutes later, he’d fixed the gravy and dished up plates for himself and me as he explained to me that people were going to come through the front door with monetary requests.

He’d also dished up a plate for the first visitor without even asking, placing it in front of the man requesting money to add more beehives to his honey farm. The man had tucked into breakfast, seemingly relaxing as we chatted over coffee and home cooking.

“Please don’t tell Bruce,” Wilson tells Michelle with a chuckle. “If you do, I’ll have to tell him that Astrid attempted sausage gravy, and he’ll talk to the grocery store about banning her. Again.”

I chuckle, but Michelle shakes her head.

Wilson glances at me and says, “Bruce owns and cooks at Perks and Rec. I’ve been friends with his husband, Harley, since we were kids, and Bruce takes it personally when any of us eat at home. Heespeciallygets offended when someone cooks at home poorly.”

“Astrid did that when she first came to town?” I ask.

I know my cook, Fran, included Astrid in her meal prep for the short time Astrid lived in my penthouse, and I know that Miles did a lot of cooking for her prior to that.

“She was eating a lot of salads and smoothies and frozen dinners, according to reports,” Wilson says.

That sounds in character.

“And, in Bruce’s estimate, that is cooking poorly,” Wilson says.

“I see,” I say with a smile. “But he got herbannedfrom the grocery store for that?”

“Yes.”

Neither Wilson nor Michelle seems to think that’s an overreaction.

“It forced her to come to him and be fed properly,” Wilson says.

“She’s not a big eater,” I say, feeling a wave of protectiveness rise up. Someone was trying to force Astrid into a behavior?

Other than your grandfather or you?a voice nags. I ignore it.

“Bruce gives her lots of vegetables. Even salads. But he makes sure they’re healthy and that she’s not eatingonlythat,” Wilson says. He gives me a knowing look. “He’s taking care of her, I promise. In his gruff way.”

I make myself relax. “She’s used to being coached,” I concede.

Wilson nods. “He’d be appalled by this sausage gravy she made. It’s almost as if she made it horrible on purpose.”

It seems Astrid hasn’t shared her plan to repel me with Wilson. “I’m afraid she might try introducing me to other Southern favorites.”

Michelle smiles. “Oh, that’s so sweet.”

Wilson. “Tell you what. When she cooks for you and it doesn’t turn out so well, you just text me. I can either pop over and fix it, or I can text you tips for how to fix it yourself.”

I chuckle. “I appreciate that.”

He gives me a wink. “I like Miles. But I think I’ve switched teams this morning.”

I lift a brow. “Glad to hear it.”

Michelle nods. “Oh, I’m definitely Team Declan.”

Well, that vote only cost me twenty-five thousand dollars. But I would give Michelle and her husband the money even if they were wearing Team Miles T-shirts every day.

Which gives me an idea…

Just then there’s a loud knocking on the front door, and the doorbell rings three times consecutively.

“I thought Michelle was our last guest this morning,” I told Wilson.