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)
“When I said that about mowing and snow shoveling, I honestly didn’t mean it as a passive-aggressive slight toward you. It’s just the truth.”
He nods, evidently uncertain where I’m headed with this.
“If we’re going to try to fix this—”
“We are.”
I smile as a bubble of hope rises inside me. “Then we can’t be ready to find fault in each other. We can’t expect the worst.”
“Okay. That makes sense. So, you mean that when I come home, because I’m going to come home, I shouldn’t expect you to be pissed automatically.”
“Right. And when it’s time for dinner, I shouldn’t automatically assume you won’t show up.”
He grins. “Right.”
He reaches across the table and takes my hand. His palm is warm and calloused. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt it like this. His thumb strokes the top of my palm.
“I’ll ask about the shop more,” I say.
“And I’ll ask all the questions about scrapbooking.”
“I’ll remember you’re capable of taking the trash out, even if it piles up on the floor.”
He grins. “And I’ll make you go to lunch with me, even if you don’t want to.”
I’ll want to.
I’m starting to speak when the door opens, and Snaps streaks through the cabin.
“Pops is asleep,” Maddie says. “Snapsy kept licking his face and trying to bite the end of his nose, so I thought we should come back.”
The puppy darts under the table and tugs on the edge of my sandal. This fucking dog. I kick gently into the air, hoping that’ll dissuade him.
It doesn’t.
“Jack, get your dog, please,” I say, moving my leg swiftly through the air.
“Snaps, come here, buddy,” he says.
The dog drops my shoe and bolts to Jack.
“You want a hamburger, Mad?” I ask.
“No. It smells weird.”
Jack’s jaw drops. “Excuse me?”
“They smell weird. What’s wrong with them?”
I cover my mouth to hide my laughter.
“Nothing is ‘wrong with them,’” Jack says, holding Snaps back from lunging onto the table. “I made the burgers. They’re great.”
Maddie shakes her head. “Doubt it.”
“Here.” Jack thrusts Snaps toward his daughter. “Take him.”
Snaps growls playfully as he lands in Maddie’s arms.
Jack side-eyes Maddie as he gets his burger into a nice, neat stack. Then he brings it to his mouth and takes a large bite.
I grin smugly as I watch him start to chew.
“See? This is great,” he says, his eyes beginning to water. His chewing slows. “Really great.”
My chest bounces as I suppress a giggle.
“Really great,” he says again, reaching for his beer.
“It looks like you’re really enjoying that, Dad,” Maddie says, laughing.
Jack tips back his drink.
“Give us a description of that bite,” I say, smirking. “Was it decadent? Rich? Just plain ol’ delicious?”
“To hell with both of you,” he says, his face red.
Maddie and I laugh as Jack scoots his chair back. Then he unceremoniously dumps his food in the trash can.
“What’s wrong, Daddy? Didn’t you enjoy your great burger?”
My cheeks ache from smiling.
“That thing was . . .” He blows out a breath and reaches for his beer again. “Hot. And garlicky.”
I snort. “You only put a half a pound of pepper on there.”
“And chili flakes,” he says.
“Chili flakes? I missed that.”
He takes the burgers off the table and sets them beside the sink. “Be glad you missed all of it. I think my tongue is burned.”
Maddie leans against my chair and pets the puppy.
My heart is full.
“Snaps and I are going to my room to text Daniel. I’m so happy we get some internet here this year. I mean, I have to stand at the window to get reception, but I’ll take it.”
“God forbid you go without internet,” Jack says, fanning his tongue with his hand.
“Good night, Mom and Dad.”
“It’s still early,” I call after her.
Her response is the padding of her feet against the staircase, followed by her bedroom door clicking shut.
“I don’t know how we ever made it without cell phones growing up,” Jack says.
“They’ll never know the fun of having to drive around town to find your friends if they didn’t answer the house phone.”
“Or the sound of dial-up internet.”
“Or Lisa Frank Trapper Keepers,” I say.
“What about buying a pack of baseball cards for fifty cents? I loved walking down to Henry’s on the corner and buying them with the little strips of bubble gum hidden inside.”
“Well, I loved Hi-C Ecto Coolers myself.”
Jack grins. “Walkmans were the pinnacle of tech.”
“They had nothing on Lip Smackers. My Caboodle was full of them.”
“Your what?”
“My Caboodle.” I laugh. “I haven’t thought about those for a long time.”
Jack’s chair creaks as he settles back again.
A warm breeze flows through the cabin, carrying with it the croaks of frogs outside. The curtains flutter as if they’re dancing happily to the events of the evening. The wooden walls of the cabin itself seem to sigh with contentment.
The door opens again. Jack and I exchange a leisurely grin that fills in a small part of the hole in my heart.