Page 91 of A Love That Broke Us
THEN—A YEAR AND A HALF AGO
JANUARY
Megan’s updatingChristy and me about the kids while I pick at the bread in the middle of the table. I tear a piece off, slather it in an absurd amount of butter, and take a bite.
Oh God, that’s good.
I’m only half-listening.
My mind’s split in two—here, and with Jensen. He’s been… I don’t know. Different. I can’t quite explain it. He’s stressed, irritable, tired, withdrawn, late. Just off.
It’s sporadic, too. I never know which version of him I’m going to get. He’ll seem completely normal for a few days, and then—bam, something shifts. Last week, he said he forgot something at the office and disappeared for three hours. On a Saturday.
“Hello? Earth to Alley.” Megan waves a hand in front of my face, her voice pulling me from my thoughts. I blink, jerking my gaze toward her.
“Sorry.” I say as both their faces come into focus. Christy’s watching me closely, and Megan’s trying not to laugh.
“Where’d you go?” Megan asks, raising a brow.
I push the thoughts away. “Nowhere. Sorry. What’d you say?”
She nods toward Christy. “Mom asked if you and Jensen are coming to family dinner next week.”
“Yeah, we’ll be there. Can I bring anything?” I turn to Christy, doing my best to sound normal.
“Nope. I’ve got it covered. Just bring yourselves.” Her eyes narrow slightly, her voice softening. “You okay? You’ve been quiet today.”
I wave it off. “Oh, it’s nothing. I was just thinking about a friend at work.” I swallow, forcing a small, sad smile. “She had to get a biopsy on a mole. She’s been really worried while she waits to hear back.”
Cindyiswaiting for results, but I don’t know why I just lied. Maybe because there’s nothingtechnicallywrong. Or maybe because I don’t want them thinking less of Jensen—or me. Voicing concerns about our relationship to his mom and sister doesn’t feel right. What would I even say?Things just feel off, and I don’t know why?
Besides, Jensen’s amazing. Things are still great ninety-five percent of the time. We’re probably just hitting a bump. Doesn’t that just make us… normal?
“Oh, that’s too bad. I hope everything turns out okay,” Christy says gently. She means it. She’s one of the most thoughtful, genuine people I know. It’s no wonder Jensen turned out the way he did—well, all of them, really. They’re all so great. I love every single one of them.
Our server comes by to refill drinks, and Megan launches into details about the surprise Disney trip she and Kevin are taking the kids on for Easter. I pull off another piece of bread and dip it into the ball of butter, practically scooping the whole thing.
We do monthly brunches the last Sunday of the month. Amber’s out sick today, so it’s just the three of us. It’s always the same place: The Porcupine, Christy’s favorite, where designer purses sit upright in their own chairs like honored guests.
It’s a little fancy for my taste, but the food and coffee are incredible. In the summer, the outdoor patio is to die for—huge hanging flower pots, crisp white linens, strung lights. It’s gorgeous, and one of my favorite ways to start the day. Jensen and I go often when it’s warm, just us or with Matt and some of our other friends.
“Al, do you and Jensen have any trips planned? I know you mentioned Miami a few weeks ago. Did you book anything?” Megan asks.
I set down the piece of bread I’ve clearly been using to manage my feelings. “No. Not yet. We talked about April or May, but haven’t booked anything. So far, just the Berkshires next week. Everyone’s still going, right?”
“I think so.” Megan takes a sip of her Bloody Mary. “I’m so excited to be going over Superbowl weekend. Maybe Jensen can teach Kevin how to make better bets. I swear that man will bet away the kids’ college funds. He can’t win to save his life, even if it’s a fifty-fifty shot.”
I laugh, grateful for the distraction. Jensen definitely has the good luck charm on his side. “Oh my God, poor Kev. I still can’t get over the fact he was up five grand at Jensen’s bachelor party, and then lost it all on red.”
Megan scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Don’t remind me. Seriously, what an idiot. I love him, but—God.”
“Well, I can’t believe that after all these years your father and Istillaren’t invited to the Berkshires weekend,” Christy teases. We all know she doesn’t really mean it. She secretly loves that the kids have something just for them—that they’re all close like this.
“I know, Mom. You give us shit every year. But we all know you don’t really want to come. One, you hate skiing. Two, do you really want to be cooped up with all your kids, drunker than skunks, talking about stuff you definitely don’t want to know about? And three, we can’t talk shit about you guys if you’re there.” Megan sticks out her tongue and laughs, and Christy playfully smacks her arm.
I laugh along with them, my mood officially lifted. The server brings our checks, and Christy grabs it, of course. She does every time, and while I feel bad, I’m also not complaining.
We chat for another fifteen minutes before finally making our way outside. It’s a cold January day, and I have zero interest in walking, even though it’s not far. I’m looking forward to spending the rest of the day with Jensen. It’s football Sunday, Conference Championship weekend. He and Matt will be glued to the game, a few beers deep, and the charcuterie I left for them will most likely be destroyed.
