Peaches Monroe: The Return of Ursula (Short Story) by Mimi Strong Page B

the flight, or maybe it was just sinking in that I’d married this guy I barely knew, but I didn’ t want to play his games.
    For the first time in my life, I understood why my mother gets so upset at the annoying things my father does. It’s not that the things he does are so terrible, it’s that he does them specifically to annoy her.
    Dalton made a comment about the weather, and I pretended not to hear him. We flew in silence for a while, with only the thrum of the engine.
    “Don’t tell me you’re trying the silent treatment,” Dalton said, chuckling. “Peaches, that’s not going to work for you. You can’t keep your mouth shut for five minutes.” He kept chuckling, pleased with himself.
    “You’re the one with zero self-control, not me,” I said coolly. “Obviously.”
    “No way. If anyone’s going to be causing problems in this marriage, it’s you.” He was still grinning. “Or possibly my father.”
    I snorted and flipped through the pages of my magazine. His father, Jake Blake the porn star, provided ten times the trouble of all my family members put together. Under my breath, I muttered, “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
    I kept flipping through the pages, waiting for him to apologize for hurting my feelings.
    But he didn’t apologize. He grabbed the paperback my father had left on the plane during a previous flight, and started reading.
    I decided to prove him wrong about the silent treatment.
    For the rest of the flight, I didn’t say a single word to my new husband. It wasn’t easy, though, because I kept thinking of the perfect comebacks, and it was a shame to waste them all.

2
    We drove up into the Hollywood Hills just as the sun was setting. All the tradespeople had gone home with their gardening and pool maintenance vans, so the vehicles we passed were mostly convertibles that looked like they cost more than an entire house back home in Beaverdale, Washington.
    My heart started to pound when we pulled up to the gate of Dalton’s house. I hadn’t been there since my visit to pick up my stuff, during our breakup. That meeting hadn’t gone well, and thinking about it made me uneasy.
    Dalton reached over and patted my thigh. “Welcome home, Mrs. Deangelo.”
    I bit my lower lip and didn’t say anything. The silent treatment was still in effect. However, as I looked up at the elegant house peeking through the landscaping, and then over at Dalton’s handsome face, I couldn’t remember why I’d been upset in the first place.
    “Say something ,” he said gently.
    The gate opened, and Vern steered the car up the driveway.
    Dalton hadn’t apologized yet, but since I couldn’t remember what he was supposed to apologize for, I decided to lift the silent treatment.
    “Your house is amazing,” I said. “I love how cute it is on the outside. It’s a Spanish Colonial, right?”
    “Our house ,” he said. “ Our house is a Spanish Colonial. And I know you think the inside has too much modern stuff, so I’m looking forward to seeing how you redecorate.”
    I bit my lip again. “Am I dreaming?”
    “We both are.” He leaned over and kissed me. My skin came alive at his heavenly touch.
    I probably would have tried to get our clothes off right there in the back of the car, but Vern opened the door and cleared his throat.
    Dalton pulled away, his green eyes dancing with mischief. “You know what happens next,” he said.
    At the growl of his voice, my body electrified.
    “I have a pretty good idea what happens next,” I answered. I didn’t say more, because Vern was standing right there, but I had a feeling it involved my sexy platform shoes and every single room of the house.
    We stepped out of the car and walked toward the tall, brushed-metal door. The house was built in the sixties, but like many of the older ladies in L.A., she’s had some work done over the years. Vern trotted ahead and unlocked the door for us.
    Something red on the front steps caught my