Page 72 of Nothing But It All
Crap.“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“No, it’s okay. Even if you did.”
I sit back in my chair and watch my husband rearrange his sandwich.
We can’t keep doing this. If we want this to work out—and he says he does, and at the bottom of my heart, I do, too—this can’t happen every time we have a conversation.
My breath stalls while my heart thumps, rattling my rib cage. I want to open my mouth and tell him I’ll forget the past and we can go on from here and pretend like the last few years didn’t happen.
But that wouldn’t be fair—to me, to the kids, or to him. Wealldeserve better.
Fear streaks through me, warning me that I could end up right where I started when I got to Story Brook. But it’s just as terrifying to think that I might have walked away from Jack when it didn’t have to happen.
And maybe it doesn’t.
“Jack?”
He looks up.
I swallow so roughly that my ears pop. “We have no hope if we’re going to hold grudges.”
He wrinkles his forehead. “What do you mean?”
“When I said that about mowing and snow shoveling, I honestly didn’t mean it as a passive-aggressive slight toward you. It’s just the truth.”
He nods, evidently uncertain where I’m headed with this.
“If we’re going to try to fix this—”
“We are.”
I smile as a bubble of hope rises inside me. “Then we can’t be ready to find fault in each other. We can’t expect the worst.”
“Okay. That makes sense. So, you mean that when I come home,because I’m going to come home, I shouldn’t expect you to be pissed automatically.”
“Right. And when it’s time for dinner, I shouldn’t automatically assume you won’t show up.”
He grins. “Right.”
He reaches across the table and takes my hand. His palm is warm and calloused. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt it like this. His thumb strokes the top of my palm.
“I’ll ask about the shop more,” I say.
“And I’ll ask all the questions about scrapbooking.”
“I’ll remember you’re capable of taking the trash out, even if it piles up on the floor.”
He grins. “And I’ll make you go to lunch with me, even if you don’t want to.”
I’ll want to.
I’m starting to speak when the door opens, and Snaps streaks through the cabin.
“Pops is asleep,” Maddie says. “Snapsy kept licking his face and trying to bite the end of his nose, so I thought we should come back.”
The puppy darts under the table and tugs on the edge of my sandal.This fucking dog.I kick gently into the air, hoping that’ll dissuade him.
It doesn’t.
