Page 21 of Perfectly Grumpy

“We need some time to work things out,” Mom says, her voice strained. “We’ve tried, Tate.Really.”

“Have you tried counseling or family therapy?” I ask. “Most couples would consider thirty years of marriage significant.”

“We’re not quitting,” Dad says, his voice low. “It’s about stepping back and figuring things out. A trial period.”

“A trial period based on what?” I ask, my logical mind trying to grasp on to something concrete. “Because from where I’m sitting, this sounds like an impulsive decision.” I lean back in the driver’s seat outside Rose & Thorn, my stomach sinking.

“I’m sorry, Tate. We didn’t think you’d want to be caught in the middle,” Mom says gently, like that makes it better. Like avoiding the fallout makes it easier to watch everything collapse.

I exhale slowly, trying to keep my voice even. “You’re right, I don’t.”

The only plan I had this summer was to come home. Work on my book. And just like that, home becomes a variable instead of a constant. I hate variables.

There’s another pause. Then Mom tries to sound upbeat. “Maybe this is the summer for you to do something different.”

Right. As if I can snap my fingers and rearrange my entire summer without proper planning. “I need to go,” I say.

“Tate—” Mom starts, but I’ve already hit End.

I place my phone in my bag and rest my forehead against the steering wheel.

My parents are separating.

I don’t even know how to process that. They were the system I relied on, the constant in my equation, the ones who made me believe that long-term relationships could be stable and predictable.

If love doesn’t last—if even the most solid couple I know can fall apart—then what exactlycanyou count on?

I hate when the equation doesn’t balance. I’m wired for routine, for things that make sense.

But now? Nothing does.

I have no home.

No summer plan.

And no idea what I’m supposed to do next.

NINE

lauren

After a long day of back-to-back meetings at the Crushers office, all I want is a hot shower, my silky pajamas, and to lose myself in an episode of HGTV. I microwave some leftover lo mein, flop onto the couch, and take exactly one bite before my phone dings on the coffee table.

Olivia

Why didn’t you tell me about the new guy?

Me

What are you talking about?

Olivia

The guy you were on a date with at the coffee shop. Aren’t you the one on social media all the time?

Clearly, my sister still has no clue what I actually do for a living. She thinks I spend all day picking Instagram filters and writing clever captions. And I don’t post about myself—because nobody’s out there reposting stories about Lauren Williamson. I’m just the woman behind the curtain, pulling off the smoke and mirrors so someone else can takethe spotlight.

Olivia

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