Page 71 of Just My Ex

“Oh! I see.” He chuckles and tousles her hair, then turns back to us. “Quinn, I was pleasantly surprised to hear you were coming this weekend.”

“Of course.” She throws her hands wide. “Put us to work! We have family photos to sort.”

Thomas’s jaw clenches. “We’ll get to that. But first, have a seat.” He sits next to Mom.

And … I’ve caught myself staring at Quinn again—her ease in tough situations never fails to impress me.

“I didn’t expect you to be home this early on a Friday afternoon, Dad,” Alec says. He’s smiling, but this is hard for him, too.

“He’s been working from home a couple of days a week,” Mom says, beaming and patting his knee. “And guys? I’m really grateful you came to help out. When Oliver told me the plan to have you come every other weekend, I felt grateful. I appreciate it more than you know. You’re all so busy.”

“We are, but this is important,” Oakley says. “Besides, the resort building business has kind of leveled out, don’t you think, Alec?” She waits as Alec nods. “Everyone’s settling into their roles,” she says. “Sebastian called it the second phase of Tate International, solidifying what they’ve built instead of continuing to build more and more resorts.”

Mom nods. “I think Sebastian not getting the Deca Arete award has, ironically, helped him step out of the rat race a little, to reprioritize, don’t you think?”

“Definitely,” Alec says. “And I like my job. I’ve gotten to help our other locations with their recreation departments, too.”

“He’s not the CEO of Fun for nothing,” Oakley says.

Alec shakes his head, and we laugh. As the conversation continues, it feels almost normal.

I’d heard about this. Stella mentioned that while I’ve been working around the globe, my family, most notably my parents, have settled into something almost normal there in Longdale.

And I can feel Alec’s eyes on me, almost like there’s a sense of solidarity between us. Like, with our father in the room, we’d better hurry and align ourselves together so he has less of a chance of picking us apart.

Always, though, no matter Alec’s anger at me for not being present for the family, there’s a pulsing reminder that my father is still Thomas Tate, a mostly absent, angry father.

Part of me regrets helping him at Oliver’s wedding, but there’s nothing to be done about it now. Except try to survive this weekend and help my mom.

And not think about how Quinn and Navie are going back to California soon.

My parents’ house has a few guestrooms, one of which is my old bedroom. Once all their sons were out of the house, they started converting our bedrooms into other things, like a yoga studio for my mom. Sebastian’s and Oliver’s rooms were combined, their walls knocked down so that the new theater room covers over half of the basement.

My father receives a call and leaves the room, so Mom tells us where we’re staying for the weekend.

“Henry and Quinn, we’ve got you set up in your old bedroom and Gabriel’s old room. There’s a Jack and Jill bathroom, but it should give you plenty of privacy since …” she trails off and offers a perplexed smile ofSince I have no idea what’s going on between you two.

She turns to Alec and Oakley to tell them that they also get guest rooms near each other, on the same side of the house, close to us.

Let’s just throw the kids all together in one wing of the house and force them to get along.

I grab the luggage and we head to the bedroom where we’re staying.

It’s been painted. Now, instead of the avocado green some designer had chosen for me as a kid, it’s a cool, light blue. And my striped curtains have been switched out for some white shades.

Navie’s busy unpacking her toys and setting them out on the bed.

“Henry’s childhood bedroom.” Quinn smiles as she sets her bag down.

“No. It looks nothing like how it was.” I wonder what my mom did with my stuff. When I left and joined the Army, I barely took anything. Once I’d come back, everything was gone, the room remodeled.

Quinn nods and looks around the room. “It’s so sterile. I can’t imagine a kid living in here.”

“Like I said, I didn’t. I don’t recognize it and it doesn’t feel the same.”

“Does that … bother you at all?”

“Maybe a little.”

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