Page 53

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Amanda has been living with us for a week.

I have already caught Blake and Amanda sitting together on the sofa in the middle of the night, a little bit too close, watching television together. If they’re left alone, it’s only a matter of time before something would happen between the two of them—once a cheater, always a cheater.

But that’s not in the cards. Because by tomorrow, Blake and Amanda will despise each other.

I wake up very early this morning, while Blake is still sound asleep in bed. I wanted to make sure he slept through the night, so I baked him some cookies yesterday laced with sedatives. I got them last week when I convinced my doctor to prescribe me by making up a story about sleep problems. It wasn’t hard—I’ve lost some sleep since realizing I was engaged to a cheater anyway. I tried a cookie, and if you’re really looking for it, there is a bit of a bitter aftertaste, but it’s barely noticeable. Blake didn’t notice when he ate three of them last night.

I wanted to make sure he was asleep, because there’s a lot I need to do.

I overheard him offering to let Amanda partake in his Frosted Flakes. Of course he would be nice to the pretty girl. Well, Amanda is about to take advantage of his kindness. I grab the box of Frosted Flakes off the counter, which is nearly half full. Then I pour the contents down the garbage disposal.

My next move is to take two of the apples on the counter and place them in a small paper bag. I climb up on the counter and stick it on the top shelf in the cabinet. It will take a little while, but those apples will rot. We already have a tendency to get fruit flies here, and with a little encouragement and a food source, they will be everywhere. Blake is a sucker for cleanliness, and this will drive him out of his mind.

My next stop is the bathroom, where I systematically empty his soap and his shampoo as well as most of his toothpaste. I leave my own products alone. He can use them if he wants, although he mentioned how much he hates “smelling like a girl.”

Lastly, I retrieve a bottle of laundry detergent that I purchased and hid in the hall closet. Blake is highly allergic to any fragranced detergent, especially ones containing a chemical called limonene. I found that out early in our relationship when I decided to wash some of his clothes to be a good girlfriend, and he freaked out because I used a detergent with limonene. I get the worst rash from even a small amount. As it turned out, that was a very useful piece of information.

I carefully pour about one tablespoon of my own detergent into Blake’s hypoallergenic bottle. I close the bottle and shake it to distribute the limonene. I open it up again and take a sniff. I don’t smell the citrus, but it will get all over his clothes the next time he does a wash.

He won’t suspect me of any of this. After all, he and I have been living together for months. Amanda is the only one new to the equation.

Pretty soon, they won’t be flirting with each other anymore. They’re going to hate each other.

And this is only the beginning.