I’m done helping her.”
And he meant it.
But Vanessa didn’t stop. She flirted with him over the fence, brought cookies, and found excuses to touch his arm.
Then she announced a neighborhood barbecue.
Irvin received an invitation.
I didn’t.
“I’m not going,” he said.
I thought about every fake emergency Vanessa had invented to borrow my husband.
“Actually,” I said, “I think you should go.”
He looked confused.
“Trust me.”
The next afternoon, Irvin went to the barbecue alone.
Thirty minutes later, I arrived carrying a large gift box.
Vanessa looked annoyed.
“What are you doing here?”
“I brought you a gift.”
Inside were a hammer, screwdrivers, batteries, lightbulbs, a jar opener, a home-repair manual, and a list of local handymen.
“Now you don’t need my husband every time something breaks.”
The neighbors laughed nervously.
Vanessa tried to brush it off.
“I was joking.”
“No, you weren’t. You sat
