Page 127 of Nothing But It All
“Stuff.”
“Stuff?”
He grins and stands tall.“Stuff.”He walks around me and toward the cabin.
“Jack, that’s not fair.”
“Stuff,”he says again without breaking stride.
If I didn’t love him so much, I’d hate him.
I walk to the cabin, which is all lit up from the inside. Laughter and voices drift through the screen door and the open windows. Scents ofcake and spices float along the breeze, and suddenly, I feel like I might cry. But instead of crying for someone else, or crying out of relief or heartbreak, this time, it’s for me. For my happiness.
Things between Jack and me aren’t perfect. Hell, we argued today. But the truth is that they may never be. They probably won’t be. But I’d much rather have imperfection with him than perfection with someone else.
He’s always there when it truly counts. He’s willing to do whatever it takes, even if that means carrying me on his back for a mile through the forest or following his gut when he suspected something was wrong with Harvey. He never stops loving us, even if he gets sidetracked sometimes.But I do too.
I can’t shake the look on Jack’s face when I suggested Harvey move in with us. How happy he was—how much he trusts my judgment. He’s never tried to control me or tell me what to do. And he’s always believed in me as a wife and mother, supporting me in my decisions ... even if he didn’t bother to weigh in on them. He hasn’t second-guessed me. Ever.
I’m staying in this marriage not because he’s the perfect partner or because I’m trapped in a life with him. Neither is true. I’m staying because what he brings to my life, and what I hope that I bring to his, is better than anything else out there. And when we work together, it’s pretty close to bliss.
Maddie sits at the table in front of the window. Her smile isn’t quite as bright as it was yesterday, but it’ll return. And Michael and Ava will certainly have moments when they aren’t as sweet as they are tonight. They might not even be together tomorrow. Then there’s Harvey and Mrs. Shaw and whatever they are. They’re fun and flirty and make each other laugh.
We’re four different stages of love—all beautiful, all difficult, allreal.
“You coming or what?” Jack asks from the porch.
I wipe my eyes and join him by the front door.
“Thank you,” he says, rubbing his thumb along my jawline.
“For what?”
He shrugs. “For any number of things. Patience. Forgiveness. Patience. Resiliency. Patience.”
I chuckle. “I’m noticing a theme here.”
He chuckles too. “You amaze me, do you know that?”
“Well, yeah. I am pretty amazing.”
He grins. “I can’t believe you asked my dad to move in with us. Have you thought about that? Did you mean it because ...” He whistles between his teeth. “That might be a lot.”
“Is that okay? I know that’s probably one of those things I’ve been telling you that you need to ask your spouse about before you do it. But I did it.”
He laughs.
“But you got a dog!” I laugh. “So there’s that. Now we’re even.”
“So you’re equating my father to a puppy?”
I lean forward. “They’re eerily similar. I’ll have to clean up after them both. They both growl at me, need to be fed, and can be really damn loud.”
Jack’s forehead wrinkles as he laughs. His eyes are filled with light. “I just never want to hear you say a word about me rescuing a puppy again. You just rescued a senile old man.”
Laughter bursts from my lips.
“Excuse me,” Michael says with a stack of clothes in his hands. “Just need to sneak by here to give these to Pops. Don’t need to hear or see anything else.”
