Page 83 of Finding the Pieces

“It means that you have spent months trying to decode some mystery quick fix to legitimate marital and mental health struggles. I think we can agree, there is no such thing as a quick fix. So instead, we’re going to listen while you get out whatever is stuck in that brain of yours.”

“Is it really all I talk about?”

“Uh, were younotaware of this?” Aiden asks. “How’s work? You’ve barely mentioned how things have been going this school year.”

“You’re normally excited about summer break by this time,” Chris says. “Are you and Ellie planning a family trip or anything?”

“Have you found any new bands lately? I keep sending you recs and you don’t respond,” Dylan says.

“Did you see Mom and Dad placed first in the local novice ballroom competition they entered? They’re practically begging us to take a class with them,” Jake says. “Which you would know if you’d participate in our group chat.”

“Okay.” I put my hands up in surrender. “Okay.” I chuckle. “I guess it was easy to get wrapped up in the puzzle. Point taken.”

“Good,” Jake says. “Because we won’t ever be able to get to the big stuff, little brother, if you aren’t even talking to us about the normal stuff.”

“When did you get smart?” I ask, ruffling his hair.

He shoves my shoulder, distancing himself and fixing his hair. “Please, I took all the smart genes for myself before you came along. Everyone knows that.”

His answering grin is oddly comforting, even though this entire thing is awkward for me.

Time and energy are both in short supply in our house. It’s easier for me, and I think Ellie, too, to focus on the next thing thatneedsto be done, forgetting that there’s more to life than what fits perfectly into a schedule.

It’s also easier for us to focus on what other people need. Her trying to be the perfect wife and mom, me trying to be the perfect husband and father, neither of us ever feeling like we’re succeeding. Always falling short of this impossible standard we’ve seemingly set for ourselves.

So, I do what my brother and friends ask. I talk about…myself.

I talk about how my students this year are some of my brightest yet. How they all show genuine interest in history and its impact on today’s world. I leave work feeling inspired because of them and their refreshing and insightful perspective.

I explain that Ellie and I decided to skip out on planning a trip this summer because we want to save up and take Luca to Disney World next year when he’s a little older. I’ve already started researching because planning a trip there feels like a test for a parent on how to maximize your time and budget and still see all your kid’s favorite characters. But you can bet your ass we’ll have matching shirts and get Mickey ears.

I apologize to Dylan, explaining that I haven’t sent him any new bands, because I’m hyperfixated on the one he sent me three months ago.

I confirm that I saw the picture of Mom and Dad holding their trophy but forgot to respond—like an asshole. I can’t remember exactly what happened, but I want to say I was getting Luca into his car seat when I got the text, and then I checked it before we pulled out the parking lot. But a nonmoving car and a kid in a car seat is a dangerous recipe for a tantrum, so I put my phone down quickly, forgetting to send my parents acongratulationstext completely, and therefore never accepted or declined their invite to try out a dance class. I promise him that I will.

But the end of our trip, I do feel better. A little guilty hogging everyone’s time and attention with them focused solely on me, but mostly a sense of gratitude.

Maybe I can learn a thing or two from Ellie. She’s been open to trying things differently. It’s time I do the same.

Chapter forty-four

Ellie

Itug at the hem of my swim cover that keeps riding up over my ass while we carry our beach gear over the hot sand. I probably should have run to the store to grab a new one, since this is a pre-baby body purchase, but when you have short notice like I did for this weekend, you have to prioritize, and a new swim cover didn’t make the cut.

It’s a gorgeous day. Hot as fuck? Sure, I’m already sweating, but still, gorgeous.

“Holy shit, Dee. What did you pack in Johnny’s cooler?” Bec grunts, using both arms to hold the cooler at her side, heaving it along and letting it drop in the sand with anumph. “This feels like a good spot to set up, plus it’s as far as I can possibly carry this thing. If you all want to move closer to the water, I’m going to need a hand with this.”

“Jonah’scooler,” Dee corrects.

Bec rolls her eyes, squats, and opens the cooler. She freezes, then stares up at Dee in amused disbelief. “You brought an entire cooler offrozenmargaritasto the beach? I assumed you’d throw in some seltzers, maybe a few wine coolers and beers, and call it a day.

“Hey, you put me in charge of the drinks. You didn’t specify how to do my job. Now you have to deal with the consequences of that decision.” She elbows Carissa and nods her head at her. “Only good consequences, I swear.”

“I thought I heard the blender this morning,” Evie says. “Are those limes? And salt? Nice touch.” She bumps Dee’s hip with her own and pulls the plastic cups out of the beach bag on her shoulder. “I’ll play bartender. Who wants one?”

We spend about twenty minutes perfecting our beach setup for the day. Towels, sunblock,Jonah’scooler of frozen lemon-lime deliciousness, Abby’s mini Bluetooth speaker, and umbrellas and chairs set up in a U shape so we can all chat.

---