The Last Exhale Read Online Free Page A

and he’s been at the past two cookouts we’ve had over here. Now that I think about it, the last time you’ve been to any functions was at your house for EJ’s first birthday. What’s up with that?”
    I pull out of the parking lot and get stuck waiting on a slow-moving train to pass. The temptation to roll down the window and toss my phone at the train to end this conversation grows themore Rachel grills me. “Enough about me. Why weren’t you out celebrating with us?”
    The smile in her voice can be heard on the moon. “Michael came home in one of those moods. Started the second he walked through the door, pinching me on the butt and nibbling on my ear. When I asked him to help me zip up my dress, he zipped it down instead. My dress ended up on the floor and we fell right on top of it.”
    â€œOhhhh, spare me the details.”
    â€œYou asked.” She chuckles. “I know you two didn’t miss me at all.”
    I can picture her sitting in a chair, head held back, mouth wide open, having a good laugh all by herself. “Still would’ve been nice to have you there.”
    â€œLet’s plan something else soon.”
    The train finally passes and the light turns green. “Well, I’m around the corner from the office. Got a client coming in in about twenty minutes. Let me know when you ladies want to get together.”
    â€œSure will. And I’ll be sure not to plan it someplace where you won’t be dry humping our husbands’ boss.”
    â€œNo, it will be a random guy next time,” I say and quickly end the call.
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    Eric doesn’t make a big deal of the dance when he gets in from work.
    â€œRachel made it seem like I was some stripper in a thong and pasties on my nipples.”
    â€œYou know she likes to exaggerate. Don’t take it personal, babe. It’s not a big deal.”
    I rinse the cabbage and add it to the pan with chopped bell peppers and onions and olive oil. Add seasoning, give it a good stir before putting the lid on top to seal in the steam.
    Eric says, “Next time you’re feeling frisky, though, save it for me,” then gives me a kiss.
    I salute my husband. “Yes, sir.”
    He stops at the table where Kennedy is doing her homework and EJ is getting on her nerves. I’ll be so glad when he starts kindergarten in the fall.
    â€œDaddy, I’m glad you’re home so he can bother you and leave me alone,” Kennedy says.
    â€œBe nice to your brother,” he tells her.
    â€œCan I hold your gun, Daddy?” Eric Jr. asks.
    My husband looks back in the kitchen at me.
    â€œThat’s your son,” I say.
    Eric Sr. puts a pencil in his hand. “Why don’t you worry about holding this for now.”
    â€œAw, Dad.”
    â€œAw, nothing. Guns aren’t for play, and they definitely aren’t for little boys.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    I yell from the kitchen, “Get out of your uniform. Dinner will be ready in a few.”
    Kennedy brings a paper to me with clocks on it and the times she scribbled underneath. “I finished it.”
    I set the paper on the counter while I stir up the cabbage, unplug the rice cooker.
    â€œMommy, can I have a cookie?” she asks.
    I hand the paper back to her instead. “One of these is wrong. Figure it out, then you can have a cookie.”
    EJ walks into the kitchen asking for a cookie next.
    I shake my head. “After dinner for you, sir.”
    â€œNo fair.”
    â€œYour sister gets a cookie before dinner, you get one after. You both get a cookie. That’s very fair.”
    He huffs back to the table.
    â€œGo upstairs and tell your dad dinner’s ready.”
    He stomps up the stairs as if his feet are made of concrete.
    Kennedy brings back her paper three times, figuring out which one she got wrong and making the correction. I give her the cookie as promised.