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)
“Just be smart,” I say, trying to buy Lauren a minute to get her wits about her. “You’re only going to be here for two weeks. Don’t lead her on. Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Treat her with respect.”
Michael flinches. “Of course, Dad.”
“If you want to talk about this without your mother around—”
“Why can’t I be around?” Lauren asks, sitting up.
Michael snickers. “Do you really want to hear . . . things, Mom?”
She gulps. “Maybe not.”
“So can I have dinner with them? I’ll eat with you guys tomorrow. I swear. Besides, Mads is staying at Pops’s tonight.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Well, for one, they’re going blackberry picking tomorrow morning,” Michael says. “And for two, Pops didn’t act like he wanted to be alone tonight. It was kind of weird, but Mads was happy to stay with him.”
I exchange a look with Lauren. “Should I go check on them?”
“I was just there,” Michael says. “They’re fine. But maybe check on them before you go to sleep. I’m sure if anything is wrong, Maddie will come screaming.” He nibbles his bottom lip. “So, you aren’t mad about the whole us-leaving-you-stranded thing?”
“Mad? No,” I say. “You and your sister are going to go get the boat.”
“Tomorrow?” Michael asks.
“Tonight.”
“After dinner with Ava?” Michael counters. “I could totally take Ava with me and let Mads stay with Pops.”
I know what you want to do, you little shit. I shake my head while my son fights a grin.
“Does Ava’s varied repertoire involve boating?” Lauren asks.
“Probably. She’s pretty skilled,” Michael says, smirking.
Lauren points at him. “I’m going to ignore that.”
“Go. Grab a gas can from the shed behind Pops’s cabin. Make sure you tie it up in the right spot next to the boathouse—on the left of Pops’s. Not the right.”
“Got it,” Michael says. “I’ll see you guys later.”
“Later,” I say.
“Love you, little boy,” Lauren calls after him.
“Love you, Mama,” Michael shouts from somewhere in the darkness.
I open the seasonings and sprinkle them on the burgers. Lauren watches me carefully but stays silent. Weird. The fact that I’ve gotten this far without her interference is odd, but I’ll go as long as she lets me. I want to do this for her. I want to take this off her plate.
I’m not sure whether to circle back to where we left off in our conversation before Michael showed up, or let it be.
“Can I ask you a question?” Lauren asks.
“Sure.”
“What are you doing?”
She’s grinning when I look up, an amused look on her face. There it is.
“I’m making you dinner,” I say.
“You know how to do that?”
I narrow my eyes. “It’s making hamburgers. I’m not getting fancy.”
“What’s gotten into you?” She laughs. “You’re not poisoning me, are you?”
I chuckle.
“You’ve never made me dinner,” she says. “Ever.”
“Not true. I made you a roasted chicken once. Remember?”
She bursts out laughing. “That’s a stretch. You tried to roast a chicken and burned that thing to a crisp. The fire department was almost called.”
“Not my fault. Someone came in the kitchen looking gorgeous, and I forgot about the chicken.”
“Blame it on me.”
“I took the blame for our marriage dysfunction. The least you can do is take the blame for the burned chicken,” I say.
She leans back against the pillows, feathering a finger against her bottom lip.
“Is that a sign?” I ask.
“What?”
“You’re drawing attention to your mouth.”
She drops her hand and laughs. “I was just thinking.”
“What about?”
Her face sobers. “What happens when we go home?”
“What do you mean?”
“You say you want to change things . . .”
“I will change things.”
“But the daily pressures aren’t here. There aren’t work schedules and kid schedules and life stress. We’re going to be right back into our normal lives, and . . .”
“And you’re afraid to take a step backward from the progress you think you’ve made toward leaving me?” I ask.
She nods again, more cautiously this time. Yes, I’ve been listening.
Billie’s pep talk shouts through my head. I hear it in her voice, cheering me on. You’re a car guy, Jack, so I’ll put it in your terms. Service that woman.
“Well, I was thinking we need a maintenance plan,” I say, hiding a grin.
“Like for a car?”
“Yeah, kind of.”
She looks thoroughly confused. “Um . . .”
“We can create a checklist of things we need to check regularly. Like, cooking dinner together. And a date night every week.”
Her eyes light up.
“Our life has been a lot about me,” I say. “And you just said that your focus had become a lot about you. But this part of our life—the kids are going to be leaving for college. It’s just going to be us at home. So, let’s lean in to that. Let’s make it unapologetically about us.”
“Do you mean that?”
I move toward her, my body humming with relief.
Her cheeks are flushed as I reach her. She stands, testing her weight on her ankle before committing to it.