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)
Maddie shrugs, turning her stick over to burn the other side of her sugar.
Lauren clears her throat. “Did it give you security too?”
“Sure. And it gave Jack that also. It was the three of us—the Reeds,” he says, dragging out our last name. “But I’m not having more kids at this point. Not saying my guys wouldn’t swim.”
I smirk as I watch Maddie look bewildered.
“But relationships at this age aren’t about physical attraction and desperation to find a mate,” he says. “It’s companionship. Someone to relate to. Someone to sit around with in the morning and have a glass of coffee because we don’t have to go to work.”
“Good,” Ava says. “Because I don’t want to hear about my grandma getting freaky in the sheets.”
Lauren chokes on her wine, making the rest of us laugh.
“Speaking of . . .” I nod toward the road as a purple golf cart comes chugging toward us. “Isn’t that Mrs. Shaw there?”
“Well, I’ll be,” Dad says, twisting in his chair. “She must’ve heard us talking about her.”
Ava waves. “Hey, Gran!”
Mrs. Shaw drives her cart through our yard. It comes to a stop just behind Dad and Lauren.
“Well, isn’t this a group,” she says.
“Want to join us?” I ask.
“Thanks, Jack. That’s sweet of ya, honey. But I was coming by to tell Harvey that his cobbler is finished.”
Dad looks impressed. “Is that so?”
“That’s so,” she says smugly. “Thought maybe you’d want to catch a ride over to my cabin and give it a taste?”
Lauren’s gaze connects with mine. I cover my mouth with my hand and try not to laugh.
Dad jumps to his feet with more nimbleness than I’ve seen in years. “I’d be delighted to.”
“What about you kids?” she asks. “Do you want to go get some cobbler? We can bring your parents back some, if you want.”
Maddie props her stick against Michael’s chair. Michael takes Snaps from Ava and brings him to me.
“Are you all going?” Lauren asks.
“We’ll be back, Mama,” Michael says as they climb on Mrs. Shaw’s cart.
“I didn’t mean to ruin your evening, Lauren,” Mrs. Shaw says. She winks at me. “I’ll bring them back later.”
I nod, holding Snaps tight so he doesn’t dart off after them.
With a little tooting of her horn, Mrs. Shaw zips off toward her cabin with our kids and my dad in tow.
The fire crackles as I stare at my wife through the flames.
A heat begins in my core and stretches through my body, making me feel like I’ve had more than one beer tonight. Lauren bites her lip, as if she’s hesitant to break the silence.
It’s like we’re dating again. It’s been this way for the last few days. I’m not walking on eggshells around her, but I am always trying to put my best foot forward.
I’ve let her lead. She’s in charge of showing me what all she feels comfortable with. Last night, it seemed to be talking and almost getting to know one another. And as badly as I wanted to touch her, kiss her, have sex with her—I didn’t. Not only do I not want to push her, but I don’t want to miss any of the pieces we need to put back together. Because when we get home and things aren’t this easy, I want us to be as strong as we can be.
My stomach ripples with anxiety from the thought of going home. In some sense, I’m excited at the prospect of having a life with my wife again. But on the other hand, it’s going to be hard to balance my work life and my home life. A lot of things are going to need to be rearranged and redistributed—new habits made.
“I hope I’m as nimble as she is when I’m her age,” Lauren says, getting to her feet. “She just bebops around here like she’s in her thirties.”
“You’re only as young as you feel.”
“Not sure if that’s good or bad.”
I put Snaps on the ground. Then I stand and help Lauren collect the paper plates, cups, and wrappers from Maddie’s s’mores. Snaps chases after me, nipping at everything I pick up.
“Well, I can’t vouch for how you feel,” I say, following her into the cabin, “but I can tell you that if I saw you somewhere, I’d get your number.”
She laughs. “You would, huh?”
“Yup. Hell, I might even order a scrapbook, just to get you to talk to me.”
She deposits her collection in the sink while I throw away the garbage. Snaps bolts into the living room, leaps onto the couch, and snuggles up in a nest of blankets Maddie arranged for him this morning.
“I doubt you’d have to go that far to get me to talk to you,” she says, prepping the leftovers to go in the fridge.
My heart races as I look around the kitchen. I need to help, but I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do.