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)
“Where are you guys going camping, anyway?” Maddie asks.
“Hocking Hills,” I say, thankful for the topic change. “But first, we’re going to stop and see Pops. It’ll only cost us a little time to circle up there on our way.”
Michael shoves his knee into the back of my seat. “Can we get some food on the way?”
“You seriously just ate,” Maddie says. “I saw you down three Lunchables.”
“I’m a growing boy.”
I grin. “What are you hungry for?”
“You know what I’m hungry for?” Maddie asks. “A chili dog from Schmidt’s with cheese and onions. Yum.”
“Schmidt’s in Story Brook?” I ask.
Her smile is bright. “Yup. Doesn’t that sound good?” She smacks her lips together to drive home the point.
“I’ll take that, Dad,” Michael chimes in from behind. “Two of them—no, three.”
I shake my head, wondering what’s gotten into the kids. They know we aren’t going to the cabin this year.
But of course, they want to.
Hell, I do too.
It still hasn’t soaked in that we won’t be there. I’ve gone to Story Brook every summer, give or take a couple, my whole life. Lauren and I went the year before I proposed and have gone each June since Dad gave us the cabin next to his as a wedding gift.
But Lauren was quick to dismiss our tradition this year—too quick, really. I thought she’d change her mind. She even had some of her supplies packed and in the garage when she called the trip off.
“I was thinking more like a place to eat that’s not three hours away,” I say.
“Maybe Pops wants to go get one,” Maddie says, using the sweet voice she’s learned from her mother. One I haven’t heard from Lauren in a long time. “I bet he would love to go.”
“I bet he would too. But things are just . . . different this year,” I say, irritated. “He probably has other plans by now and wouldn’t go even if I asked him to.”
Maddie giggles. “He would if I asked him to.”
“He’s not gonna change his mind for you. What do you think—that you have him wrapped around your little finger or something?” I joke.
Maddie and Michael burst out laughing.
“You know, Dad, I bet it killed Pops that we’re not going. He’s gone every year for, like, eighty years.” Maddie twists around in her seat as far as the seat belt will let her. Her eyes sparkle. “But I have an idea, and I think you’ll love it.”
I look at her out of the corner of my eye. “I know just by the sound of your voice that I won’t.”
She punches me in the arm. I pretend that it hurts.
“Ignore her,” Michael says. “Just follow me.”
“Follow you?” I ask. “You two are up to something together?”
“We weren’t, but I think we’re on the same page now,” Michael says.
Maddie nods. “I think so too. It’s brother-sister intuitiveness.”
“Let’s set the stage,” Michael says. “Campfires at dusk. Can you smell the burning oak wood? The sun on your face on the beach. Watching the girls dive into the water in bikinis.” He pauses. “I mean, you can do that now since you and Mom are getting divorced.”
My gaze whips to him in the rearview. My blood runs cold. “What did you say?”
Maddie’s face falls. She slumps against her seat and sighs. “We know.”
My stomach drops. A bitter, vile taste coats my tongue.
“We’re not ignorant,” Michael says, his voice void of the playfulness of a moment ago. “We’re just surprised it didn’t happen before now.”
“I . . .” The fuck? I clear my throat, unsure what to say. “We haven’t filed for divorce. Why would you say that?”
“I saw the appointment written on the business card on Mom’s desk. So it makes sense you guys canceled the trip,” Michael says.
What? An appointment? For what?
Lauren scheduled an appointment with an attorney?
My mind races, my cheeks blazing. Surely she didn’t do that. Why would she do that?
The weight of the kids’ gazes is on me, waiting for a response. I want to heave.
Divorce? What the fuck?
My brain short-circuits, trying to process every interaction I’ve had with my wife to determine if there’s any truth to Michael’s suspicion.
Lauren and I talk every day. We haven’t really fought in ages.
A chill races through me.
When did Lauren stop calling me each night?
A flurry of goose bumps breaks out across my skin, and I think I might be sick.
My palms sweat, and I wipe them on my thighs.
Should I go back to her? Call her? Text her?
But what if I bring it up, and Michael’s gotten it all wrong?
What if I bring it up and she confirms it?
I heave a breath.
“Your mother and I are not getting divorced,” I say, gripping the steering wheel again.
“I hope you’re right,” Maddie says.
“I’m sure there’s an explanation,” I say, my throat dry.
Michael sighs. “Probably. But when you look at it from our side, Mom doesn’t bring you dinner to the shop anymore. You haven’t really said much about her scrapbooking stuff, and that’s honestly pretty weird.”