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)
Oh.
I wipe a sweaty palm down the side of my maxi dress. My heart beats faster as Jack and I stare at each other, waiting for the other to flinch. To speak.
To do something.
A timeline materializes. Jack and Michael go to Harvey’s. Maddie is desperate to come home. Michael doesn’t text this morning. Harvey suddenly needs insulin.
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Finally, Jack sighs. “Lo, I think we’ve been set up.”
Of course we have. My sigh is long and hasty. “I’m going to kill your kids.”
“Why are they my kids all of a sudden?” He smiles. “They’re only mine when you’re mad at them.”
“Because you’re the most relatable thing I can think of when I’m mad at them.”
I mean it as a joke. Any other time, Jack would’ve laughed. But now? He opens his mouth and then shuts it.
So I move on. “Your dad called me and said he needed his insulin. He explicitly asked me not to tell you or the kids.”
“Well, your kids, because they remind me of you when they’re being irritating”—he pauses to smile again, to soften any perceived blow—“begged me yesterday to reconsider. Maddie even called Pops from the truck before I dropped her off at the gym. She didn’t mention it to you?”
“Nope. Not a word.”
He tries to hide his amusement. “Those little monkeys.”
“What are they thinking?” I ask. “How did they put this all together?”
“If I was betting, this started with Maddie and my dad. Michael was probably all too happy to conspire with them because that meant he got to come up here too.” He leans into his truck bed and digs around in a bag. When he stands back up, he’s holding a pair of my panties.
“Why do you have those?” I ask, reaching for them.
He pulls them away from me and tosses them back in the bag. “Because your daughter packed you a bag and disguised it as camping shit that she so sweetly packed for me and Michael.”
I groan into the air. This is six degrees of screwed up.
How do I respond to this mess?
My heart tugs, pulling me toward the cabin that holds some of my happiest memories, and I hate the way my nose itches like I’m about to cry.
The world, my world, is sitting on my shoulders. Despite the kids being out of pocket and getting Jack and me together, there’s still something sweet about it. They love their family traditions. How can I fault them for that?
But how can I stay? Should I stay? Can I stay? Harvey doesn’t know about our marital issues and how tense our relationship can be. He’ll notice the difference in us if we’re here any length of time. How will we get around that?
God, help me . . .
I look at Jack. “What are you going to do?”
He gestures toward the cabin. “I’m staying here with Michael.”
I nod, forcing myself not to fill in the blanks. You were not included in that sentence, Lauren. It doesn’t matter what the kids want. Jack just told you what he wants.
I force a swallow and ignore the squeeze in my chest. “Great. I’ll give your dad his insulin, and Maddie and I will head home.”
“You’re going home?”
My gaze flips to him just in time to see a storm rolling through his eyes. He sounds surprised, like he didn’t expect me to say that.
“Yeah,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “I mean, if Maddie wants to stay with you guys, she can.”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure she wants to stay.” He lifts his chin. “And I’m pretty sure they want you to stay too. They went to pretty great lengths to get us here.”
“I really don’t want to think our children are capable of that level of scheming.”
“Yeah, well, you have a habit of assuming you know what people are and aren’t capable of.”
He holds my gaze, practically begging me to argue with him. I open my mouth, fully prepared to go to battle, but then . . . stop.
Maybe it’s the fresh air. It’s possible that I’m just drained from the three-hour drive, or the prospect of dealing with the kids about this exhausts me. Either way, I can’t conjure up enough energy to fight with Jack. Not now.
“This is ludicrous,” I say, refusing to follow him into an argument.
“A lot of shit is ludicrous, but it doesn’t stop you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Before he can say another word, a puppy bolts down the steps. It lunges off the bottom step and launches a solid twenty yards in the air, ears pinned behind it, until it lands at my feet. It pants happily. I swear the little thing smiles.
Bark!
I do not return the goodwill gesture. “What the hell is that?”
“Come here, Snaps,” Jack says, patting his thigh. The puppy bounds toward him. “She’s not very personable today, buddy.”