“Hey back,” Mickey replied. “Listen, babe, you do payroll?”

I looked to the computer on the desk.

The den was the den.

It was also another guest bedroom now that the other side of the room was taken up with a massive, slouchy sectional with a pullout.

Further, it was a family room where Auden and Cillian played Xbox when they were at my place since the girls (and Mickey and I) weren’t big fans of them hogging the TV in the great room.

It also now had shelves on every wall not taken up with windows or the TV, beautiful walnut ones Mickey had put up with the help of Jake (and Cillian and Auden).

And last, it was the office for Donovan Roofing and Contracting.

I was Mickey’s office girl. I did payroll, returned calls (or picked them up when I was at the desk), scheduled Mickey to meet with clients, typed up quotes, ordered materials, sent invoices, dealt with receivables and played bookkeeper (with tutoring from Robin).

Mickey’s business had taken off.

Ralph beat him on some bids but those who paid attention to referrals and online reviews went with Mickey. Not to mention, he’d gotten the roofing contract for the build around the golf course at the Magdalene Club. A huge job. A real coup. Thirty houses and not little ones. Mini-mansions.

In fact, there was so much work Mickey had twenty-eight employees. And his business wasn’t even a year old yet.

I didn’t get a salary. This was because Mickey’s house was on the market and we were getting married in a small, harvest-themed wedding (reception to be held at Lavender House) the day before Halloween, so what was his was going to be mine very soon anyway (as per me, we’d had words but Mickey gave in eventually).

And I loved doing it. I loved helping. I loved watching Mickey’s business flourish. I loved seeing him happy in his job. I loved knowing when he started his work day he was doing something he enjoyed, something that was his.

Since Mickey’s house was on the market, even though our wedding wasn’t for three months, when it sold, even if we weren’t yet married, they were moving in.

Then again, they were there most of the time already.

If they weren’t, I, and if I had my kids, all three of us were over at Mickey’s.

Total Brady Bunch.

It was fantastic.

“Yeah, honey, I run it every Thursday morning before Dove House,” I told him something he knew. “Direct deposits will be in accounts tomorrow.”

“Shit,” he muttered.

“Why?” I asked.

“Jerry fucked up his timesheet. Forgot some overtime I asked him to do.”

“Tell him he can just submit it with the next one and we’ll make the alteration then.”

“Says he needs the money, baby. The divorce.”