"Heading home, my Angel."
Okay, the man has called me:
My Girl, MG
My Girl, MG
Red Ass Amy
and many other things, but never "Angel".
Obviously, he was onto me. I scrambled to appear "angelic" by putting all the pillows back on the beds, returning the food to the fridge, and loading the chest with all of our implements and toys. By the time he reached the door, I was completely out of breath and drenched with sweat, so I flopped on the couch, lounging as though I'd been there all day.
Eric put his suitcase down and greeted me with with a hug and kiss.
"Were you working out?" he asked. "You're all sweaty."
"No," I replied, "Just a little hot."
"I have something for you," he said returning to his suitcase.
Out of the package came a tiny stuffed angel.
"She looks just like you, Amy."
"Very funny. So, when did you start reading the blog again?"
Eric looked uncomfortable.
"Sorry honey, I know I'm behind. I still haven't had a chance to get to it."
"What about the angel?!" I said.
Eric looked confused.
"I told you, she looks like you."
That man spent two hours playing it off and I fell hook, line, and sinker. It wasn't until we went to bed and he threw my pillows on the floor that I knew he had been toying with me the whole time.
I've been out-bratted! Anybody have a small stuffed devil I can borrow?