Page 22 of Nothing But It All
“Because you don’t remember what it’s like to be a fourteen-year-old girl.”
I lift a brow. “Do we need to talk about the birds and bees again?”
“I don’t know.Do you want to ruin this trip?” She waits a beat before sighing happily and swaying to a song that I can’t hear. “I love music. It speaks to my soul.”
“Good for you.”
“Can I ask you something? What was your and Dad’s song?”
Oh, Maddie. Please don’t.
“I bet it was super romantic, wasn’t it? You’re the kind of mom that probably had cheesy lyrics about loving someone forever.” Her eyes flicker with mischief. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
I grin. “It was actually ‘Livin’ on a Prayer,’ by Bon Jovi, Miss Smarty Pants.”
She makes a face and plays on her phone. She stares at me as I drive around a fallen tree branch.
“This explains a lot,” she says, scoffing.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Mother, this song isn’t a love song.”
“Child, it’s one of the greatest songs ever recorded.”
“Okay.”She falls back in her seat. “Does it make you sad to think about you and Dad and the happy days?”
The hope in her voice stabs me in the heart. That she knows these days aren’t happy is salt in the wound.
I regrip the steering wheel. “Who says me and Daddy aren’t happy?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Body language. That you’re never together. That you bailed on our family trip this year.”
Shit.
“I can’t imagine not being happy with Daniel. Especially after decades, like you and Dad. I mean, how do you just stop holding his hand or hearing about his afternoon? Isn’t that sad?”
“I’m sure Daniel’s afternoons areabsolutely riveting.”
She lifts a brow in her boyfriend’s defense. “I’m sure they’re more riveting than yours, since you sit home alone and make scrapbooks for strangers.”
“Those scrapbooks are going to pay for your college tuition.”
“If you say so.”
My lips part to volley back—to tell her to mind her business. To remind her that I’m the one giving up myriveting lifeso she can have hers. But I stop before I plant any ideas in her head about Jack.
He might not be a dream husband, but he loves his kids. That’s my problem, not hers.
“Did your brother ever text you back before we left the house?” I ask instead. “Make sure he knows we set the alarm, in case he goes backfor anything. I don’t need the police rolling up and us not being able to be reached.”
Maddie runs a hand through the air. “Oh yeah. He said they’re having a great time. The truck is loaded to the roof with ... equipment. You know, tents and coolers and stuff.”
I give her a look.Why is she acting so weird?
“Mads—”
“Look, Mom!”
