Cleaning up the Mess

The kitchen was almost clean. Almost. A few rogue red Solo cups were stacked on the counter like defeated towers, and some sticky rings of unknown origin still clung to the tile near the sink. But Donna Granger didn't mind. She wiped and scrubbed with purpose, in heels no less, humming tunelessly under her breath. Her silk robe slipped open a little as she reached forward, but she didn't bother fixing it. Her man wasn't in the room—yet.

He was upstairs. She'd heard his voice earlier—low, teasing, sleepy. Aynsley's giggles too. Then the soft stomp of feet. Doors opening. Water running. Joey was awake. The man of the house.

Her man.

Just thinking about him made her heart flutter. The man she wanted to wake up next to for the rest of her life. Her husband. Or husband to be. Or—what would you even call him? She was still working on that. Earlier in the week, Donna had been haunted by some parts of her mind still screaming her relationship with Joey was insane, disgusting, criminal, impossible. But those parts had grown quiet since last night, since Joey had explained that not only was Juniper allowed to be with him, all the women who had been in the bedroom were allowed too.

She had felt such a relief after that.

Of course she and Joey would work out! It's not like they were doing anything untoward. Yes, she knew from her time in law school that there were some pesky things that could get in the way of their long-term happiness if they weren't careful, but those were just technicalities. She and Joey were allowed to be together, and that was good enough for her.

Joey, her son, the perfect man. Not her husband Hank. Not some lawyer. Not a movie star. Not a football player. Joey. Her Joey. She had raised perfection without realizing it.

Donna straightened a stack of paper plates and smiled. It had been such a good night. The best night. She and Eliza had curled up in bed like old friends and talked in whispers until they both dozed off, giddy and tipsy and glowing with love for the same boy. She couldn't even be mad that Bianca had claimed Joey's bed. Or that Aynsley and Madison had apparently taken over the room as soon as Bianca had vacated, setting everything in order as they saw fit. This was what supporting one another looked like.

In her old life, the life where she had been committed to a bizarre and misguided marriage to Hank Granger, she had thought that her romantic relationship took value from exclusivity. Hank and Donna, husband and wife, forsaking all others, until **** do us part. Her world had been so small, so empty. Joey had shown her so much, expanded her vision. When Donna had realized that it was Joey that she wanted, she had not only gained the perfect man, her walking wet dream, but she'd gained something Hank could never have given her.

A sisterhood.

These amazing women, bonded over a shared love of a man that they were all outclassed by, but had decided to give of himself anyway. It was like something out of a romance novel.

She glanced through the doorway to the living room. On the couch, Juniper was sprawled across it in one of Hank's old oversized hoodies, snoring softly, her hair a bird's nest of hangover misery. Donna had cleaned her up earlier. Held her hair back while she vomited. Rubbed her back. Got her some water and tucked her in like a child. And yet... her chest swelled with happiness. Juniper and Joey had finally connected. She didn't know what the pair got up to in Juniper's room last night, but by the way Juniper spoke about Joey that morning, she could guess. Not only did she feel like a proud mother, but she also found herself as an excited sister, joyous to welcome another member into the fold.

Now, the house hummed with quiet motion. Eliza and Serena were wiping down the dining room table. Madison was scrubbing scuffs out of the foyer walls. Aynsley was, Donna assumed, still finishing her cleanup of the upstairs hallway. Even Bianca had taken the vacuum and was working her way through the second floor. The house was returning to order. Joey's world would be spotless. Because that's what a man like him deserved.

Donna breathed it in and closed her eyes.

If she was going to commit, if she was going to make Joey her husband, then house would no longer be Hank's. It would be Joey's.

There would be legal proceedings, a land transfer process, but that was Donna's specialty. Every step of Joey's acquisition could be done by someone with Donna's skills blindfolded. The divorce, though, would take a bit more time. But Donna's colleagues could help. And she suspected that Hank wouldn't put up a fight. She could keep up the facade that she was upset over that hussy Sarah, claim infidelity, and a man like Hank wouldn't even fight it. His initial admission of guilt would be the thing that would sink him.

Her mind turned briefly to logistics. Marriage law. **** statutes. Immigration. Maybe staying in the city wouldn't be the best decision. If they moved, could they reinvent themselves? How far abroad would they have to go? Were there private islands for sale? Yes, Donna knew they had nowhere near the amount of resources to do such a thing, but that wasn't her problem in that moment. If she found a possible solution, something that would allow them to stay together despite the technicalities that threatened their relationship, it would happen. She didn't care how. Only that it could be done. Love always finds a way.

"Mom?"

She turned, beaming, hand still on the dishcloth.

And then she saw him.

He was stunning. Her breath actually caught. The green shirt hugged his skinny torso just right, and those jeans—tight, rolled at the ankle—showed off his legs in a way that made her knees weak. He looked fresh, styled, dressed like a boy someone important had taken the time to love.

But his face...

Her smile faltered.

He was holding his phone in one hand. Brows furrowed. Eyes down. There was a heaviness to him that hadn't been there the night before.

"Oh, hi, baby!" she chirped, immediately slipping into her girlish, bubbly tone. The one he had so liked during their date the previous day. "Don't you look so cute this morning! Like, I almost didn't recognize you! Did Aynsley do your hair? Oh my God. You're, like, literal perfection—"

"Mom," he said again, quieter this time.

Her heart skipped.

She set the dishcloth down slowly.

Joey looked up, locking eyes with her. Serious. Soft.

"We need to talk," he said. "About Dad."

Donna froze, the scent of lemon cleaner still on her hands. She had cleaned the sticky floors. She'd scrubbed the wine rings, straightened the cushions, barked out orders with cheerful authority. She had even swept the damn basement stairs in heels.

But now, staring at the expression on Joey's face, she felt it—there was another mess. Bigger. Deeper. One she couldn't clean with a sponge or a broom or a chore wheel.

This mess had her husband's name all over it.

And it wasn't going to be easy to tidy up.