Page 22 of Finding the Pieces

“It might be rude, but at least I’m honest,” he retorts.

“You kind of look like you did a few weeks ago. No sleep for the mini-Moretti?” Gabrielle asks.

Ungrateful. That’s what this class is. I gift them the ultimate prize as a student…a movie day. No expectations, no discussion, no homework. A no-strings-attached, all-too-preciousmovie day—all because I’m a fucking zombie—andthisis my reward? A good old-fashioned roast, compliments of my third-period freshmen class.

“How about a thank-you for the free period?” I ask, taking a sip of jet fuel—sorry, I mean coffee. Mabel is the sixty-three-year-old school secretary, and basically the boss of all us teachers. She only knows how to make her coffee like this, a shot of adrenaline in a ceramic mug. I’ve clung to her breakroom brew every morning since Luca was born like the gift of life that it is.

Unfortunately for me, even the strongest cup of coffee can’t clear up the gray clouds hanging over me today. Because I wasn’t just up late with a toddler who wouldn’t sleep; I was up late fucking up my marriage.

I just keep making things worse.

Of course, I didn’t mean the stupid shit I said. I was burned out, touched out, and fucking exhausted. The thought of risking my last chance at sleep only to adjust the baby monitor camera felt insane to me in the moment. Now, with some distance and some caffeine, I can recognize that while Ellie’s anxiety doesn’t always make sense to me, it’s very real to her, and I was the opposite of a supportive partner last night.

No, I made things infinitely worse.

I’m not perfect, never claimed to be, but now I have some serious damage control to do. I’m already trying to figure out where I’ll be stopping on my way home to pick up flowers and something with a whole lot of chocolate for Ellie when my class decides to offer more…feedback.

“Uh-oh. You messed up, didn’t you?” Bethany chimes in.

“Crap, you’re right. Look at him. Remorse is written all over his face,” Jerry adds smugly, like my pain and suffering are hilarious.

“Hey. Movie. Focus,” I call out, gesturing to the screen and dropping my head into my hands as my elbows rest on my desk.

“Relationship problems. Clear as day. Look at him practically pouting,” Joey agrees with all the seriousness of a surgeon being asked for a second opinion on a serious case of the husband fuckups.

“I’ve lost all control. Subjects are becoming too aware,” I mumble into my palms, loud enough for Jerry to hear, little shit.

They’re actually a great class—a fun and intelligent group of kids—but I don’t need their above-average observation skills today.

“Whatever you did, you need to buy her something nice,” Hunter says confidently, making his sister roll her eyes.

“You can’t undo stupid with gifts,” she says in a reprimand.

“Hey,” I say defensively. Who says I was stupid?” Tiffany gives me a knowing look and laughs. Fucking laughs. “Okay. So, if I was stupid,hypothetically, what would you recommend?”

Am I asking fourteen-year-olds for advice? Shit, I guess I am.

“Apologize, take her to dinner, and spend some time together. Show her she’s appreciated,” Tiffany says.

“Yeah, and do something special that tells her you’re thinking about her when you’re not with her,” Gabrielle adds.

The guys look at each other, dumbfounded. Yeah, we still have some work to do to catch up my half of the population when it comes to relationship competence. I mean, look at me…Exhibit A.

“I’ll take these recommendations under advisement. Now…movie,” I say, gesturing back to the screen. My class might be invasive, but even in my fuzzy state of mind, I know they’re not wrong. A night out would do Mom and Dad some good. Let’s see if I can work some magic.

Chapter eleven

Dom

It took some planning, but we finally made it happen. It had been weeks. Months? Shit, I don’t know, but too fucking long since Ellie and I had a night to ourselves. An honest to god date night.

Babysitters? Check.

Nice restaurant? Check.

Good food and drinks? Check and check.

We finally took a second to breathe and enjoy each other’s company and a meal that wasn’t interrupted by our son screaming for one of us to scoop his food faster or flinging it onto the floor.

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