Page 25 of Unexpectingly Happily Ever After

″You didn’t tell me that.”

″I was fairly certain that I did.”

″You should have said eighteen-fifteen. Or six-fifteen pm.”

The argument between Brit and I goes on for quite some time, with Brit demanding that I change the flight. I’m sure it would be easy enough to do, but it’s the principle of the thing. She should have told me the right time for the flight.

In the end, J.B. convinces me to keep the flight the way it is.

“Go early, check into the room, and then go sit by the pool. Or go shopping. This trip is supposed to be a break for you, and God knows you’ll need to rest up before you have forty-eight hours with Brit.”

″I think it’s more like sixty,” I say nervously.

Chapter Nine

Dreaming of your children hurt or injured is a minor occurrence and should be disregarded as a mother’s subconsciousness cannot be trusted.

A Young Woman’s Guide to Raising Obedient Children

Dr. Francine Pascal Reid, (1943)

Since I have to be at the airport at such an ungodly hour, I say goodbye to the kids the night before I leave. Lugging my suitcase behind me, I try and make it out of the room without waking J.B., but accidentally slam it into the dresser on the way to the door.

His sharp intake tells me I’ve failed in my attempt not to wake him. “Casey?”

″Sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t want to wake you. Go back to sleep.”

He sits up, his hair mussed from sleep. “Were you going without saying goodbye?”

″There was a goodbye last night. It was long, and there were tears. If I do that again, I don’t think I’ll be able to leave.”

A chuckle from the bed. “Get over here.”

Like I can say no to that. I crawl onto the bed beside him and let him wrap me in his arms, breathing in the sleep smell of him. He still smells good, other than his breath. I try not to breathe through my nose.

″We’ll be fine here,” he assures me.

″I know.”

″And you’ll have a good time.”

″Okay.”

″Have you called for an Uber yet?”

″When I get my stuff downstairs.”

J.B. shifts and pulls away. Already I miss him. “I’ll help you, or you might wake everyone up.”

″It was only a little bang.” I pick up my big Coach purse that works as a carry-on bag and let J.B. carry my suitcase down the stairs.

I pause outside the kids’ doors. Last night all three insisted on sleeping in the same room, with Ben on a makeshift bed on the floor. The tears threaten again as I give the door a little wave.

J.B. waits at the door with me until I see the headlights of the car. I notice how dark it is outside. I used to love getting up at this time of the night to feed the kids. It was always so quiet, without the cars or buses. I always felt like I was the only one in the city awake.

″It’s always darkest just before dawn,” I say to J.B., quoting an old Laura Ingalls Wilder saying.

″Have fun in the dark, then,” J.B. says, wrapping me in a hug.

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