Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 85399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
My overfunctioning in this relationship, my need to control details of our lives, is a big component in our disfunction too. The link between me doing everything and Jack doing even less is strong . . . and that’s a hard marble to digest.
I’ve been making it impossible for Jack to do many of the things I’m asking him to do.
That’s been eating at me all day.
The peace is broken by the other boat’s engine coming to life. I sit up to make sure the kids are seated. Jack is bent over our boat’s engine, fiddling with it.
“What’s wrong, Dad?” Michael asks as Maddie unties our boat from theirs.
“I don’t know. I think we’re out of fuel,” Jack says.
You’ve got to be kidding me. “What do you mean ‘we’re out of fuel’?”
Jack turns around, wiping his brow. “I mean, I don’t think there’s fuel to start the engine.”
“Whose job was it to check that?” I ask, ignoring the sweat droplets trickling down his chiseled abdomen.
Slowly, Jack turns his attention to the other boat. So I do too.
Michael grins sheepishly as they drift farther away. “Um, I might’ve forgotten to do that.”
“Michael,” I say, watching Maddie use Snaps’s paw to wave goodbye. “Come back here so we can get on your boat.”
“And then what, sugarplum?” Pops asks. “We sink and none of us get back?”
“You won’t sink with us on there, Dad,” Jack says.
Pops shrugs. “I don’t make the rules. There’s a sticker on this thing somewhere that gives a weight limit, and we’ll exceed that if you two get on here.”
I get to my feet. “This is not funny.”
“We’ll bring you a gas can,” Michael says. “It won’t take that long.”
“We’re at the farthest inlet from the boathouse,” Jack says, a hand on his hip. It draws attention to the muscle that runs along his side. “It’ll take you at least an hour to get there, find gas, and then get back out here.”
Pops snickers. “An hour at least. Hell, it might be three if that little blonde is done with her piano lessons and is sitting on the beach, waiting for Michael.”
“You’ll be fine,” Maddie says. “And if we get sidetracked coming back, you could always just sleep on the boat.”
“Or hike back. The cabin ain’t but a couple of miles up that trail over there.” Pops points at the dirt lane barely noticeable through the pine trees.
“If you don’t come back with a gas can, you’re both grounded,” I say.
My words get lost in the roar of their engine as they speed away, laughing.
I plop down on the bench and sigh. Now what?
“Your kids are starting to get on my nerves,” I say.
Jack laughs. “My kids, huh? This is definitely your kids shit.”
My gaze follows him as he moves effortlessly across the boat. He sits across from me, his cologne amplified by the heat. His arms stretch along the edge of the boat, and he smiles.
“You’re not worried that we’re stranded here?” I ask.
“Not really.”
“You don’t really think they’d let us sit out here all night, do you?”
He smirks. “Lo, I’m not really sure about anything when it comes to those two working in conjunction with my father.”
I settle back, resting against the side of the boat.
We sit quietly for a few minutes, riding along with the waves. Tall pine trees loom overhead. They provide a bit of shade as we float into the shadows.
“I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to do here,” Jack says.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, we’re sitting on this boat staring at each other, and I don’t know if I’m supposed to make small talk like you’re a stranger or talk to you like you’re my wife.”
“What’s the difference?”
He cocks a brow toward the sky.
“We’ve been married strangers for a long time,” I say. “This should come naturally to us at this point.”
“The fact that it’s not natural means something, does it not?”
I shrug. I don’t know.
The truth is that when we’re all together, playing euchre or hanging out on the boat with eighties hits—the only music we all can agree on—rocking through the speakers, I remember what it used to be like with us.
The heat in Jack’s eyes across the bow of the boat. How his fingertips would graze the small of my back like he couldn’t manage not to touch me. The inside jokes we’d laugh about despite everyone else thinking we were goofy.
I felt so safe with Jack for so long. I was happy—blissfully so—with him for so many years. And then . . . then I just wasn’t.
“I had no idea you were thinking about divorce. And it’s bullshit that it took that to make me realize what was going on. That’s probably a symptom of the problem. But, Lo, there has to be a way for us to work on this. To fix it. Please.”