Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 66767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
I fight to keep my silence, but the words slip out anyway. “That’s all well and good until you realize you can’t tell when it’s scary or hard.”
Tatum sets a mug with a ceramic squid in the bottom on the counter and turns to face me. “What do you mean?”
I clear my throat, hating that I’m dumping on her, but unable to help myself. Lack of sleep has eroded my usual control. “It’s come to my attention that I’m not always on the same page as everyone else. Things escape my notice. Things like social cues and emotions and the fact that everyone thought I was cheating on Lane with Wren before we divorced.”
Tatum’s jaw drops. “What? Who thought that?”
I shrug. “Several prominent members of society and my first cousin. To name a few. I overhead them talking last night.”
Understanding flickers in her eyes. “I see.”
“Do you?” I exhale a soft, humorless laugh as I pull the first two pancakes from the griddle and pour on two more, carefully placing the Oreos in the center, where the batter is thickest. “At least that’s one of us. I don’t feel like I understand anything, anymore.” Except that I miss Wren like a vital organ, and it’s been less than twelve hours since she crawled out the guest bedroom window. But I don’t say that part aloud.
“You got stuck in a sneaky fear spiral,” she says, as if I should know exactly what that means. “You heard those people talking, a part of you started to wonder if they were right, and all your other fears piled on to drag you down into the pit. And once you’re in the pit, the only decisions are bad decisions. Never make decisions when you’re in the pit. Not even what color lipstick to wear, let alone whether or not to dump the love of your life.”
“I didn’t dump her,” I say. “I dumped me.”
Tatum’s gaze softens. “I’m pretty sure it didn’t feel that way to her.”
I stand up straighter, nerves humming. “Have you spoken to her?”
“No,” she says, shaking her head. “But I’m planning to go over to your place and help her pack as soon as breakfast is over. Unless…”
I arch a brow and flip the pancakes, once again hitting the timing perfectly. If only I were as good at love and relationships as I am at cooking breakfast.
“Unless?” I finally echo as she stands there staring at me, clearly expecting me to read her mind as well as she reads everyone else’s. But that’s not who I am, a fact that brings the conversation full circle and should perfectly encapsulate why I had to do what I did last night. For Wren’s own good and future happiness.
Tatum slaps my bicep hard enough for it to hurt a little. “Unless you go over there and make it better first. Go over there, Barrett! Beg for her forgiveness, promise to do whatever it takes to mend your relationship before it’s too late.”
“It’s already too late,” I whisper.
“It’s not. She loves you. You love her. And just as importantly, you have so much in common. You’re two sides of the same coin, so alike, but different enough to make something beautiful together. Let her help you make up for what you lack and vice versa, that’s part of what it means to be a team. And don’t you dare let a bunch of mean-spirited gossips ruin this for you guys. That would truly be a tragedy.”
“She’s right,” Drew says, appearing in the kitchen archway, sans Sarah Beth, who, judging from the footfalls upstairs, is up to something in her room. “Tatum makes up for what I lack all the time. I’ve become such a better parent since we’ve been a team.”
“And I can finally balance my bank account, set a budget, and understand health insurance is something I need, even though it’s ridiculously expensive,” Tatum says, adding with a smile, “I’m also becoming quite the ice fisherwoman. I was sad to see the lake melt this year.”
Drew wraps his arms around her from behind, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “A sexy ice fisherwoman.”
She laughs as she leans into him. “Only you would think watching a woman learn to gut a fish is sexy.”
“Not any woman. Just you. You’re sexy all the time,” Drew says, shifting his gaze from his fiancée to my face, his smile vanishing. “And you’re being too hard on yourself. Maybe you should quit therapy. Maybe getting in touch with your emotions isn’t for you. Not if it ruins this thing with Wren.”
“No,” Tatum says. “You just need to keep moving forward. You’re growing and changing, and that’s never easy, but you’re going to be a better man on the other side. The kind of man Wren needs. One who knows he doesn’t have to hold the world together and who can let the people who love him know he’s struggling and ask for help.” She motions upstairs. “Look, you’re doing it already. Old Barrett would have slept in his truck before asking for help last night. Or ever.”