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’ll leave this until he gets back, then.” She tosses a stray piece of cardboard on the pile. “What are you doing tonight? Want to grab a drink and some dinner?”
“Can’t. Maddie has a cheer party tonight, and Michael has been begging to go to this party that’s apparently held in a cornfield. By his level of enthusiasm, I’m pretty sure he shouldn’t go.”
Billie’s eyes go wide. “Oh. Right. The annual Montgomery summer party is about this time of year.”
“I didn’t grow up here, remember? What does that mean?”
She sits again. I drop into my office chair and let my legs dangle over the arm.
“The Montgomery parties are legendary,” she says.
I cock my head to the side. “So, my son shouldn’t attend.”
“Correct. But don’t you dare tell him I told you that.”
“Great. We’ll fight about this tonight.” I sigh, wishing for a split second that Jack were around to help with this stuff. “If I had the time back that I spent arguing—or ‘negotiating,’ as they like to call it—with my children, I could be a lot more productive.”
“Speaking of negotiations, did you tell them you aren’t going to Story Brook this year?”
I groan.
My stomach tightens as I replay the conversation with the kids a couple of days ago about our annual trip to Story Brook. The disappointment etched on their faces. The unbelievability of the levity in my voice as I explained that their dad’s shop and my scrapbooking business were both exceedingly busy, and we wouldn’t be able to go to the cabin this summer.
It was better than telling them that Jack and I had had a fight, ending with us agreeing not to go. How could we ever spend two weeks in a small cabin without killing each other? These days, we barely last five hours. I refuse to put us through that.
“They took it fairly well,” I say. “Better than I expected. They were disappointed and initially had a lot of big emotions about it, but Michael calmed Maddie down, and . . . it was okay. They understood.”
Somehow.
“They’re growing up,” she says. “They can’t be oblivious to what’s going on with you guys. I know you try to hide it, but you’re a terrible liar.”
“I am a terrible liar, and they are growing up. But I’m not sure they aren’t in the dark. I mean, Jack’s never here, and when he is, he’s doing his thing and I’m doing mine. We aren’t even passing ships in the night. We’re more like trains operating on different continents.”
My eyes close briefly as I fight off a wave of sickness.
I hate that this is what we’ve become—that the only way we’re happy is when we’re apart.
“So, are you just going to keep living like this?” she asks, brows pulled together.
“I don’t think Jack gives a shit if we’re married or not. Hell, he sleeps in his office at the shop half the week. The other half, he sleeps in front of the TV or in the guest room.” I shrug. “The kids are the only reason I stay with him. Mom guilt is a real thing.”
“It’s a stupid thing.”
“You’ll understand when you have kids someday.”
She gives me a look. “Why should you feel guilty?”
“It’s like . . . how can I put my happiness over theirs? Doesn’t that make me a bad mom? Can’t I just wait until they’re out of high school?”
“No, you can’t. What are you teaching them? You’re telling them it’s okay to be unhappy? Would you want either of them sacrificing their happiness for someone else?”
“No.”
“Exactly. So stop with that guilt nonsense.” She pauses until she’s satisfied that her words have had time to sink in. Then she continues. “How did Jack’s dad take the news of you not going to Story Brook?”
“Also, fairly well, from what Jack told me.” I shrug. “Harvey hasn’t been feeling the greatest, so he said he was good with staying home.” My heart sinks. “I hate disappointing him, though. I love that old fart.”
Billie’s smile is lopsided.
My spirit wobbles too.
Harvey Reed and I have grown close in the twenty years that I’ve been married to his son. He says I remind him of his Myra—a woman I never had the opportunity to know. She’s where Jack gets his love of fruit and beef jerky and his predisposition to wake up looking gorgeous, if Harvey is to be believed. What did Jack inherit from his father? His ability to compartmentalize too well, if I’m to be believed.
“Does Harvey know you’re thinking about divorce?” Billie asks quietly.
Hearing her say “divorce” causes my heart to stutter.
“No,” I say, taking a deep breath. “Harvey doesn’t know anything is wrong at all. We’ve been careful to hide it. I think the kids instinctively know not to share anything with him, if they are suspicious that something’s amiss between me and Jack.”