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 blow out a breath.
I need time. I need a few days to think.
“Kids,” I say, watching the road.
“Yeah?” Michael says.
I turn to Maddie. “We’ll bring you a chili dog when we come home.”
My daughter wraps her arms around my neck, nearly making me crash the truck into a ditch.
“This is a great decision, Daddy. You’re going to be so happy you did this.” Maddie presses a hard kiss on my cheek. “Thank you.”
With a shake of my head and a small smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes, I resign myself to reality.
At least being away will give me a few days to get my head sorted . . . and figure out where things went wrong.
And how to save my marriage.
“Put your seat belt back on, Mads,” I say.
Looks like I need to buckle up too.
CHAPTER FOUR
LAUREN
Ican’t hear you, Mads. Stop moving the phone around,” I say, yawning.
“Sorry. Is that better?”
“Yes.” I glance at the clock. “Why are you up so early?”
She laughs. “It’s nine o’clock, Mother. It’s not early.”
“Speak for yourself. I didn’t get to sleep until four this morning.”
“Sucks for you. Anyway, can you come and get me in an hour or so?”
What?
I climb out of bed and rub my eyes. The house was too quiet last night to sleep. With Michael gone with Jack, and Maddie texting halfway through the party that she was going home with Elodie, the silence was loud. Too loud. I finally got up at midnight and worked until after three. Then I lay in bed for another hour before I could doze off.
My brain was active, bouncing back and forth between the past and present. It’s probably because Jack was home during daylight hours yesterday. Because for a moment with Billie, things had felt almost normal—or what normal used to be, anyway.
Nostalgia was a bitch in the lonely, dark hours of the night, and it took everything in me to fight it. To not drown in its depths. To remember that I’d pulled myself out of that state of mind for a reason.
“Mom?” Maddie asks, shaking me out of my reverie.
“An hour? I just got up—literally. I haven’t even had coffee yet.”
She sighs like only a teenager can. “I need to get home.”
I slip on a pair of Jack’s shorts under his T-shirt that I sleep in and make my way down the hall.
“What do you have to do that’s so pressing?” I ask, pausing to adjust the thermostat. It’s freezing in here. Who turned the air-conditioning so high? “You’ll just get home and complain about being bored.”
“No, I won’t. I promise. There’s a bunch of stuff I want to do today.”
Early-morning sunlight filters through the curtains and casts a pretty glow over the kitchen. It’s been my favorite room of the house since the moment I walked in with the real estate agent almost twenty years ago. I could envision myself standing at the sink, laughing with Jack. It was easy to imagine this space filled with warmth and traditions—and love.
I get a cup of coffee brewing and find my hazelnut creamer behind the juice.
“Let me get some coffee in me and jump in the shower,” I say. “I have glitter stuck to my palms from last night.”
“So, an hour? An hour and a half?”
I blow out a breath. “I’ll be there by eleven.”
“Perfect. Love you, Mama.”
“Love you, Mads. Bye.”
“Bye.”
The line goes dead.
I shake my head, making quick work of my caffeine in a cup. Then I take a seat at the table. I sip my coffee and watch the traffic out the window.
The stress I’ve carried on my shoulders since Jack left yesterday begins to subside.
It’s funny how I used to not get a second to breathe. I would’ve paid someone for ten minutes to take a shower alone. Now, the moments I do get to myself are tricky. They’re an echo chamber of memories—and that’s not always a good thing.
“No, Lauren, that’s not what I’m worried about.”
“What does that mean, Jack?” I ask aloud. “What are you worried about?”
I take another sip of my coffee.
I can’t help but wonder sometimes what might’ve happened if I hadn’t made the conscious decision to disconnect from Jack. I had to—I know I did. I had to start living a life instead of playing a role in his. But I can’t deny that by backing away from trying to mold our relationship into what I wanted, I probably put the final nail in the coffin.
It’s a double-edged sword. If I had kept putting my life—everything from cleaning the gutters, to my health, to finding my personal joy—on the back burner until Jack was ready, maybe my marriage would be on better terms. At least, it’s possible I could’ve put my head in the sand and pretended to be happy. Obliviousness can be bliss. But while that might’ve infused my relationship with Jack with a shot of energy, it would’ve drained me.