Chapter 29
CHAPTER 29
S HANNON
My phone vibrates on my lap, and I glance down discreetly to see Tillie has texted me.
Tillie: Did you remember to bring the measuring tape for the measuring contest this time?
Having learned never to read a text from Tillie in these meetings without preparing myself first, I’m able to hold in any laughter this time. I do have to bite my lower lip to keep from smiling, though.
Me: I seriously might die here. Please tell me when we leave, we won’t hold horrible, boring meetings like this.
Tillie: God, no. I’d rather stab myself in the ears than ever have to listen to this kind of droning again.
Will, seated next to me, clears his throat, and I glance over at him. His gaze moves down to my phone, then back up to me. He leans in uncomfortably close.
“Everything okay, Shannon?”
I flip my phone over on my lap so the screen is not visible.
“Yeah, sure. Sorry about that.”
I shoot Tillie a glare, and she’s smirking at me. Troublemaker.
Being forced to stop texting, my mind wanders to last night. I was exhausted when I got home from my final test, but seeing everything the kids put together for me—obviously with Troy’s help—immediately perked me up. Even though I only had to spend two nights away from home, I hated being gone.
I think about the gorgeous box Troy made me. Maybe I’ll use it as a jewelry box. Or something else, it doesn’t matter. What matters is he’s worked to master the technique so he could make it for me, five years after that trip to Charleston. It does something to my insides. It was one of our first big vacations as a family. Olivia was seven, Oliver was five, and Chelsea was a baby. It was a memorable trip, but anyone who’s gone to the beach with three young children knows it’s a mountain of work. Still, I wouldn’t change it for the world.
A few days in, when we needed a break from the sun, we went to the aquarium in Charleston. Afterward, we went to an amazing outdoor market. That’s where I first saw and fell in love with these boxes. They require certain maneuvers—twists, taps, turns—to open them instead of using a key. They felt more intimate. Only the owner—and maybe the person who made it or gifted it—would know how to open it. I loved the boxes, but they were expensive, and as a young family having spent a lot on a vacation, I refused to let Troy buy me one. I promised him when we were in a better place financially and we came back, I would get one. But life got in the way, and we never went back there.
Honestly, the entirety of last evening was perfect, except for when I came downstairs after putting the kids to bed. I found a spotless kitchen, one of my cherished pottery mugs, and a bottle of wine already opened, sitting next to it.
But Troy was gone.
I was hoping to ask him to meet me for a drink so we could talk about everything that has happened with us physically, but also so I could open up about the confusing feelings I’ve been having toward him. I’ve been hesitant to share any of my emotions because I don’t want to risk giving him false hope. If what I’m feeling is just a reaction to everything changing in our lives, it wouldn’t be fair to risk hurting him.
But... what if it’s not?