Page 47 of My Almost Ex

Marla laughs coming into the room, my dad’s hands on her sides as though he doesn’t want her to get away. Rylan groans and looks away. I can’t imagine living with those two. They’re like teenagers.

“I heard you picked her up from the inn today?” Marla continues picking stuff up from around the room and putting it in the laundry basket.

My dad sits on the edge of the couch Fisher just vacated. How does he get out of spring cleaning day?

“She’s at the cabin,” I say.

Marla stops and turns to look at me. “Alone?”

All of them look at me, even Fisher at the door.

“Yeah,” I say.

“Adam.” My dad sounds disappointed in me.

“She’s an adult.”

“With memory loss. We swore to Susan that we would look after her,” he says.

“I didn’t swear anything to Susan.” I stand, not needing a lecture on how to handle my soon-to-be ex-wife.

“Put Susan aside for a moment,” Marla says. “Do we even know if Lucy remembers how to use a stove? I’m certain she probably doesn’t know what to do when she’s taking out the trash and a bear or some other animal approaches.”

“I left her a gun in the side table in the living room.”

“Adam!” Dad shouts.

“What?”

He looks at Marla and they have some private conversation with their eyes that results in Marla pulling out her cell phone and walking out the front door.

“Hey, Greene fam.” Cam kisses Marla’s cheek and walks into the house. He stops cold and looks around. “Oh, what’s the drama?” He rubs his hands together.

Cameron’s an only child, so he thrives on the drama of our large family.

“Let’s go.” Fisher grabs his coat.

“Where are you going?” my dad asks. “It’s spring cleaning day.”

“I have an appointment,” Fisher says. “And Liam is booked for months.”

“Sit your ass down.” My dad points at the couch. “Liam has a family. I’m sure he understands obligations.”

“I’m twenty-fucking-nine, Dad. You don’t run my schedule,” he says.

Dad looks outside, and when he sees she’s still on the phone, he turns back to us. “Marla asks nothing of you boys. Do you know how often the girls come over? All the time. You guys live here, never come by our place, act like you can barely make the Sunday dinners. She’s cleaning your whole house today. You damn well can help.”

Fisher looks at Cam, who blows out a breath.

“If I agree to go to Sunday dinner, can I leave today?” Fisher asks, desperate to get out of this.

“No.”

Cam pats Fisher on the shoulder. “Come on, Fish, it’ll be fun.”

“And who cleans your house?” Fisher grumbles.

“The housekeeper, of course. That’s why I like to be here. I get to roll up my sleeves,” Cam jokes, although he does have a housekeeper. That’s what happens when your family owns the majority of the fishing boats that come and go out of the port.

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