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)
I inhale a deep breath. Don’t hold grudges, Lauren. You promised you wouldn’t.
Gayle pats me on the arm and gasps. “I saw you on TV a while back. How exciting for you, Lauren! I bet you’re over the moon.”
“Yes, it’s really exciting.” I take a deep breath and refocus. “I never imagined that I would be scrapbooking as a career. But I wouldn’t change it. I love it.”
“You’re very good at it. I looked you up online after the bit on the morning show, and your work is fascinating.”
My heart warms. “Thanks, Gayle. That means a lot.”
A clatter rings through the air, and a spattering of profanities comes from the shed beside their cabin. Gayle groans.
“I need to help Kevin,” she says. “He was determined to clean out that mess of a building himself this morning, but obviously, that’s not going well.”
“Good luck,” I say. “It was good to see you, Gayle.”
“Good to see you too. And if you need a scrapbooking assistant—call me.”
I laugh, giving her a final wave, and then start down the road again.
My shirt clings to my body as the breeze gives way to the humidity of the day. I mosey through the barely two-way streets winding through the cabin community and enjoy the peace in my mind.
Waking up and finding myself curled against Jack was not on my cabin bingo card. Having his arm scooping my head and holding me against his shoulder wasn’t in the plans. I never imagined that he and I would see three in the morning together, sharing a pint of ice cream from the Cupboard while propped up in bed. I didn’t dream that we would be laughing about our first road trip together, or our first night home alone with Michael—or the atrocious wallpaper I talked him into hanging in our first house.
“It had flowers and peaches, Lo. Flowers and peaches. It was horrible.”
I laugh. “It was pretty . . . kind of.”
“It was not pretty. Or easy to put up.”
“Or easy to take down.”
Jack looks at the ceiling, making me laugh harder.
I wipe my eyes. “Do you remember when we got to the wall by the table?”
“How could I forget? I had to put new drywall up on that whole fucking wall.”
I grab his arm and rest my forehead against it, still laughing. “But you were so cute while you were doing it.”
“You’re lucky I love you, because that was a nightmare.”
I grin as I wave to Charles, the retired mailman who lives on the corner.
Despite the last few years, Jack and I have had a lot of good times together. I haven’t thought about so much of that lately. I’ve been hyperfocused on the present day—on how miserable I was. Did I forget what a good man he is at his core?
I’ve been so obsessed with Jack’s perceived failures and all the things he does wrong. The things that annoy me. The things that hurt. When did I start assigning those things to Jack in lieu of the others?
“Maybe if you didn’t act like you didn’t want me around, I’d put more emphasis on coming around.”
I kick a pebble and watch it sail across the street.
Our life used to be so simple. Our love was even simpler than that.
Kids and jobs and bills . . . responsibilities, they all piled up.
We layered so much on top of what was important—us—that we couldn’t see it anymore.
“Hi, Mrs. Reed,” Ava says, breaking me from my thoughts. She’s standing at the end of the steps leading to our cabin. “I just knocked and no one answered.”
Her white-blonde hair is pulled back into a slick ponytail. It makes her blue eyes pop more than usual.
“I think Jack and Maddie are probably still with Pops. They probably stopped for a chili dog at Schmidt’s,” I say. “The last time I saw Michael, he was headed to find you.”
Her cheeks flush. “We’ve been hanging out all morning, but he wanted to come home and put on his swim trunks.”
“Well, I have no idea. Let’s go inside and see.”
We move up the steps and into the cabin. A note sits on the table.
“Looks like Michael headed to the Cupboard to pick up lunch,” I say. “Did you look for him there?”
“No. I came here first.”
“Do you want a glass of tea?” I ask, taking the jug out of the fridge.
“No, thank you, ma’am.”
Such a sweet girl. “How are your parents? I need to go say hello to them, especially since my son is over there twenty-four hours a day.”
Her smile could light up a room. “They just said the same thing about you. Well, not exactly. They just said last night that they needed to come by and see you and Mr. Reed.”
“We will definitely have to meet up.”
“Mike showed me your social accounts. You’re really funny, Mrs. Reed.”