Chapter 17
Jade went home that night to Belle’s complaints about the painter he hired to paint her room pale pink—not the bubble-gum pink the painter had mistakenly selected but the palest, pearliest of pinks. God, Jade thought as he harpooned the sushi Belle had left him for dinner, how he would’ve loved to relinquish her to Señor. They so deserved each other. After dinner, he took another shower and steeled himself for another night of smoldering rage (his) and weeping (hers).
Why did he do it? Why had he come back? For his parents and for her, yes. And because the life he had known in New York was over, yes, that, too. And because he liked the work, liked managing others for the first time in his life, liked the immediate satisfaction of the well-trimmed hedge and the seamless lawn.
