Page 126 of The Fix-Up

After a long moment, Gil sat down next to me. “We’ve been avoiding this.”

“Yeah.”

“The six months end next week.”

“I know,” I snapped. I took a deep breath. “Sorry.”

He said nothing in response.

Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore. “Just say it. Whatever it is you need to say. I won’t break.” Liar, liar, pants on fire. I was going to bake so many muffins in the coming week.

“MaybeIwill,” he said under his breath. His gaze landed on me finally. “Peter made a really good offer. Like seven figures.”

That was an incredible amount of money, even split in half. I could make a lot of muffins with that. I could move to another small town, find a café or diner for sale, maybe even build my own. But staying in Two Harts and watching my whole life get partitioned out for a strip mall? That, I didn’t think I could do.

“I thought maybe you’d changed your mind. You were worried about Mikey leaving Austin, but he’s been here for a week now. He’s doing great. We’re doing great.”

Gil stood and paced, his shoes clacking on the wooden floor of the gazebo. “For now, he is. But I have to work. What happens then? Are you going to take him with you to the café every day?”

I climbed to my feet. “I don’t know exactly. Maybe…maybe you could get a teaching job here in Two Harts and…but we could figure it out together.”

He slammed a hand down on a wooden post, the sound surprisingly loud. I jumped in response. “It’s not that easy. Mikey is all I have.”

“No, he’s not.” I took a step closer, my voice growing louder. “You have me. You have Oliver. You have Teddy and the whole damn town of Two Harts. You are not some island. You have people right here.”

“Do I?” he asked, his voice just as loud. “This has been a nice vacation, but you’ve never seen Mikey have a meltdown. You’ve never seen what it’s like when he gets angry. You don’t know what it’s like when I’m exhausted or when I’m not so patient.” He yanked at his hair. “You see all the good things. Why do you think you ended up with such losers before? You only saw the good things.”

It felt like he’d slapped me. Tears stung the backs of my eyes, but I refused to cry. Not now. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I was that person, but I’m not now. Trust me, I have my faults. And you have yours, too. But you’re not even trying. Everything’s been decided in that dumb head of yours. At least I’m willing to compromise.” I stepped close, so close that my chest brushed his when I took a breath. “Well, fine. You know what? Go home then. We’ll sell everything. You win.”

Our eyes locked. My anger simmered at the surface. Both of our heads jerked to the side at the sound of a cry. But nothing was there. Or whatever it was had left already. Probably just an animal.

“I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do,” he said in a low voice. A thread of despair laced his words.

I shook my head. “Let me know when you figure it out.”

FIFTY-FIVE

Love is Mommy and Daddy.

—ALLIE, AGE 7

A pounding on my bedroom door ripped me from sleep. “Eleanor, wake up.”

Gil burst through the door before I even had a chance to get out of bed. He flipped the light on, his eyes wild. “Is he in here?”

I stumbled out of bed, tripping on my sheet in the process, and righted myself before falling headfirst into my nightstand. “Is who here?”

“Mikey. He’s gone again.”

“What?”

He shoved a piece of paper at me. It was a note written in large, oversized child-like script. Some of the words were misspelled:

I am not staeing hear withowt Gilly.

I turned the paper over. “What is this?”

“I found the note on his bed. His backpack is gone, too.”

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