Page 87 of Legal

Turned out I was wrong again. It did happen overnight.

I dragged the lawnmower into the garage, every muscle sore and screaming at me, my clothes drenched and stuck against my body. I’d just spent the last six hours in the hot sun cutting my grass with a push mower instead of the rider I normally used for my two-acre yard. Trekking back and forth over the uneven ground, hauling up and down ditches, maneuvering around dozens of trees until I thought my arms would fall off was the most sensible thing I could have done.

I took a long swig from my water bottle, wiping the hair from my face. I felt grimy as all hell and needed a shower asap. I noticed the blinking alert of a text out of the corner of my eye; I set the bottle down and trudged over to my phone. I was going to sleep hard tonight.

I smiled, typing out my reply:Still great, Perry. Thanks for checking. Love you.

Nothing like sweating out a hundred and seventy pounds of man to kick-start my day right.

I placed the phone alongside my bottle and swept up the grass mess that had spilled out of the mower. My stomach made a loud, angry noise. I really needed to fill it with something or else it’d never leave me alone. I’d skipped out on the family lunch earlier, citing too much yard work. Perry stopped over afterward and brought me the leftovers. I had a monster-sized bowl of homemade ravioli in my fridge, and even that didn’t sound appetizing.

Well, I’d have to find something to munch on or else I ran the risk of being force-fed. She was a little too over-concerned for no reason. I was bouncing back much quicker than I thought I would. But even after staying with me all night and part of the morning, Perry still decided I needed to be checked up on regularly.

As I was closing up the garage, Mike pulled in with no puffy pillows in the car. I raised my head to the sky and inhaled deeply. If he was looking for more Candace advice, I was all tapped out. All I wanted to do was swallow down a handful of crackers, take a long-ass shower, and go to bed early.

“Glad I caught you at a good time.” He slammed the car door shut and headed toward me.

“Actually, not. I just finished the yard and was about to take a shower.”

“Oh, okay. I can wait.”

“I’m really tired, Mike. I’ve had a long day.” I didn’t have the energy to squabble.

“Just a few minutes, Jillian. Ten tops. I can tell you about Daniel too.” I scrunched up my face, and even that was hard work. Why the hell did those muscles ache? I wasn’t chopping the grass with my teeth. “Don’t worry. There’s nothing wrong.”

“All right, fine. You can wait, but I’m taking that shower first, and it might be long.”

“No problem. Take your time.”

I felt like I had to practically crawl up my front steps to get inside. I shouldn’t be that exhausted; I was in decent enough shape. But it was a good exhausted. A necessary exhausted. Maybe I should do it every day. I just had to make sure I ate and slept more than three hours first.

I made a pit stop in the kitchen and poured a glass of iced tea. That one lone bottle of Spotted Cow looked damn tasty, and I almost grabbed it instead. What I really needed to do was pour it down the drain. I slammed the fridge shut and went into the bathroom.

Forty-five minutes later, I came out degreased and ready to get this over with. Mike had helped himself to my tea and was flipping through channels, feet up on the coffee table. “You don’t mind, do you?” He held up his glass.

“No, but you can take your feet down.”

He put them where they belonged and said, “Hey, is that Frank’s ravioli in there?” I nodded. “I’m starving. Do you think…?”

I sighed. “Go ahead.” I went into the pantry and grabbed a bag of pretzels, figuring I could use the salt. I sat in the living room, waiting for him to heat up his food. “So, what about Daniel?” I yelled into the kitchen.

The microwave beeped, and he came out a minute later. “He’s taking a weekend trip to Rome.”

“Yes, Mike. I know that already.” I watched him shovel noodles and sauce into his pie hole, barely tasting it. It was probably all soggy. Frank’s food wasn’t meant to be reheated that way. “He’s also planning something to Zurich next,” I said.

“What’re doing tomorrow?” he asked, his mouth stuffed.

“Working.”

“On Labor Day?”

I shrugged. “Sure, why not? Wait, was that all you wanted to say about Daniel?”

“Yeah, I thought you’d be interested to know.” I rubbed my temples. Would he ever realize that when it came to our son, I probably knew more than him? “And about that other thing I wanted to talk about….”

“Let me guess—Candace?”

He set the bowl down and chugged the rest of his iced tea. “I took your advice. I told her that I wasn’t ready for marriage and babies, if I’d ever be again.”

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