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)
“What’s going on, Jack?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
He’s lying. Between his behavior and Vegas, something is obviously going on. Why won’t he tell me?
“What’s wrong with you?” he asks, lifting his head. “Are you okay?”
“Just emotionally drained from drying Maddie’s tears all day. Where did you go this morning?”
His shoulders slump as he sits back in the chair. “I’m sorry. I did a little hiking down by the lake. Sat with Dad for a while. I’ve just had a lot on my mind. You know how it is.”
Do I?
“Is everything okay at the shop?” I ask, poking around for the crux of the problem.
“It’ll be fine.”
The dismissal hits a nerve. It’ll be fine.
Am I too unimportant to know what’s going on?
“Didn’t we have a discussion about being involved in each other’s lives?” I ask, trying to hide my annoyance. “Because I feel like there’s a lot happening in your world, and that world is most definitely not interfacing with mine.”
He groans. “We got fined. I’ll deal with that when I get home. Someone—I don’t know who, because Tommy was being elusive about the name, so it’s probably him—drove a car into the roll-up garage door.”
My eyes go wide.
“They’re going to get it secured for the night and then call a guy in tomorrow to take a look at it,” he says. “No idea what that’s gonna look like or cost.”
“I’m sorry, Jack.”
He chuckles in frustration—in defeat.
I pause, uncertain whether I should ask about his trip. He’s upset. Maybe I should let it go. But if I do, it’ll eat at me, which wouldn’t do either of us any good in the long run.
“You’re going to Vegas?” I ask.
He wipes his palms down his shorts. “Yeah. We talked about it a few months ago.”
“I don’t recall having a conversation with you about Las Vegas.”
“Well, we did. You were standing at the refrigerator holding an empty milk jug, to be exact. And I told you we got an invite to the CBA show in Vegas this summer. One of our suppliers got the shop two tickets. It’s a big deal—the biggest car show in the country.”
This is all news to me. Maybe he did mention it, but if he did, I didn’t hear him.
A lump settles in my throat as I struggle to internalize this trip. I’m sure it’ll be great for his business; that’s a good thing. But the more his business booms, the more our family time dwindles—and I’m left holding everything in our lives together.
Just like always.
My stomach churns, exhaustion from the impending situation already sinking deep in my bones. “When is it?”
“The week after we get home from here.”
My eyes widen. “So . . . we go home and then you leave? For how long?”
“Four days.”
I force a swallow. “Okay.”
What else is going to confront us as soon as we’re home?
I’m panicking. I’m falling into old habits, and the resentment I carried for so long is creeping back up. It’s happening all too easily. But how do I fight it when it’s so fresh in my mind?
“Will you go with me?” he asks.
I stare at him blankly. “Jack, no. I can’t go with you—especially not on a moment’s notice.”
“Why?”
I blink. “Why? Is that a serious question?”
“Yeah.”
The room buzzes with energy. It’s a dry forest waiting on the match to strike. I’m dumbfounded by his question. Has he not listened to anything I’ve said?
It’s a nice sentiment—that’s not lost on me. He’s never asked me to go with him to work events. That’s a step in the right direction. But I’ve spent the past few days explaining that his time away from the family puts a heavier load on my shoulders.
Doesn’t he get it? Is he really that out of touch?
I stare at him, confused. I’ll break it down for you. “If it’s the week after we get home, I’ll have to unpack all this stuff. Do laundry. Go to the grocery store. Go through the mail. Figure out what we’re going to do with your dog.”
He swallows hard.
“Michael has wrestling camp,” I say, mentally sorting my day planner. “We still need to prep for that. Someone is coming to look at the sprinkler system because it hasn’t worked all summer, and our grass in the front yard is getting crunchy. The HOA has already sent us a notice about that. Maddie is not only going through her first breakup, but she’s supposed to fundraise two days a week, starting when we get home, to raise money for their cheer trip to Florida.”
“Oh.”
Does he think I’m done? “I have a doctor’s appointment on the twenty-second. Maddie sees the dermatologist on the twenty-fifth.”
“What for?” he asks, brows pulled together.
“She has a weird mole on her back that I want looked at. I’m sure it’s fine, but I’ll feel better if someone with a medical certification tells me that.”