Chapters (38)
- one
- two
- three
- four
- five
- six
- seven
- eight
- nine
- ten
- eleven
- twelve
- thirteen
- fourteen
- fifteen
- sixteen
- seventeen
- eighteen
- nineteen
- twenty
- twenty-one
- twenty-two
- twenty-three
- twenty-four
- twenty-five
- twenty-six
- twenty-seven
- twenty-eight
- twenty-nine
- thirty
- thirty-one
- thirty-two
- thirty-three
- thirty-four
- thirty-five
- thirty-six
- thirty-seven
- epilogue
It was depressing to see the dark, rain-streaked windows when I got home that night. Deanna had given me a reason to look forward to the end of the day, and Halle was a terrible conversationalist. I hoisted the bag of groceries from the passenger seat and prepared to dodge raindrops, then I lost my grip on the bag and spilled its contents all over the pavement. I scrambled to gather bruised apples and soggy ice cream sandwiches. I had to get on my knees in an inch-deep puddle to retrieve a can of soup under the car. I stayed there, unable to summon the energy to laugh at myself or cry. I lifted my face to the ink-swirled sky and muttered, “I give up.”
“Don’t do that just yet. Hang in there long enough to talk to me.” Rick appeared from nowhere, holding a runaway apple. Water dripped from the brim of his trooper hat. “I know you don’t want to, but you need to talk to me, Ronni.”
He pulled me to my feet and added, “Please.” I nodded.
Rick grabbed the groceries and threw them in the general direction of the grass strip in front of my apartment. He drew me to his chest and we stood in the rain for a minute, oblivious to anything but our heartbeats.
He held me at arms’ length and wiped tears and rain from my face. “I love you,” he said. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Ronni.”
“What about Victoria?”
“She and the boys are still at the lakehouse.”
I sighed and shook my head. “The next thing you’ll say is ‘it’s complicated’. I can’t be with you when I’m constantly guilty because you aren’t together as a family, Rick.”
“You never gave me a chance to explain, Ronni, but I don’t have any intention of going back to Vicky. The boys know that. I think they understand we’re better off apart. Vicky and I fight constantly.”
She sounded so much less threatening as “Vicky.” I liked that. But her words kept echoing in my head, like little splinters of glass. “You’re right. We do need to talk.”
“Come on,” he said. “I’m not going to stand in the rain for this conversation.” He tugged at my left hand and I fished for the door key with my right.
I got a few bath towels for us to mop our faces with and threw them on the couch. We sat awkwardly, Halle watching from the kitchen and swishing her tail like she was reminding me to be angry.
“Okay,” I began, “Tell me everything.”