Chapter 12 Vanessa #2
I have no friends at the school, thanks to my relationship with Jack.
I do have friends here, great ones, but I’m being stupid and making them feel bad, refusing to do anything we used to do together.
It’s my fault, I know. I’m so stupid sometimes, but I can’t seem to help it.
When I get back home, Trish is still puttering around the kitchen.
She’s made a big pile of all the snack food.
She put bags of chips, which they call crisps here, fruit snacks, and little bags of popcorn all in the center of the counter.
“What are you doing now?” I ask, snappier than I should be.
“I read an article this morning.” She’s beaming.
“I’m going to take a little drive in a bit, and I’m buying some healthier snacks.
Dried fruit without all the added sugar, bags of nuts, and I found some recipes online for making your own dried chips in an air-fryer.
” Her whole face is bright. “I think if we can get the kids used to these, they’ll be much happier and healthier, too.
” Her eyebrows shoot up. “We could make extras and take them to Natalie for her kids.”
I want to tell her no.
Natalie would shut her down if this was her mother-in-law. She’d tell Trish that she’s the mom, and that she can make those decisions for her kids, and that a bag of chips now and again is fine. I can hear her saying it.
But that’s not me.
So I just force a smile and bob my head, and I say, “Wow, well, if you’re excited for that, that’s great. Maybe we just hide those snacks until we know whether the new ones will work, but what a great plan.”
Because I’m a total ninny.
And my sweet, little old mother-in-law is now in charge of my whole life. She must think I’m a really inept mother to have a whole pantry full of unhealthy snacks for my kids. I manage to keep from crying until I’ve reached my room and quietly closed the door.
Before I can start my accounting work, I notice Jack has texted.
How’s the morning going?
He knows the school showcase didn’t go very well, even if I didn’t tell him any particulars. I think he feels a little guilty, which certainly isn’t my goal.
I think about ignoring him. I don’t feel much like talking, and I doubt he’ll be able to do anything about it. But in the end, I’m too upset to keep it all inside, and I’m kind of upset with the people I’d usually tell.
Not great. Tried to make breakfast for Sam and Nat, and they were riding.
Then I asked them to lunch, and they’re going shopping.
Without me.
That’s not really fair to them, but it’s how I felt.
Again.
I’m so sorry. That’s terrible.
And to make things even more annoying, Trish is rearranging my entire kitchen, and she’s throwing out good food because of some kind of stupid granola videos she’s seen, making me feel like a terrible mother.
You’re an excellent mother.
And you’re a wonderful friend.
And a great daughter-in-law. It’s just a lot to deal with all at once.
I’m sorry.
I feel a little better, even though Jack doesn’t know any of the particulars. Sometimes you just need someone who’s on your side, even when you’re wrong.
After I finish reconciling the daily and weekly reports, I should go check on Trish.
I should also start dinner so it’ll be ready on time.
If I don’t, she’ll probably watch some video on raw octopus steaks and we’ll all be stuck chewing rubber blobs for an hour.
I should do a lot of things, including tidying up the house and moving laundry over to the dryer.
But I don’t.
In fact, I don’t even leave my room. I shower, and I get ready for the day, and instead of coming out, I stay right here, wishing I had a bag of contraband chips I could eat.
I dive right into the projection for the hotel for the next four months, which I’m sure Natalie will not find encouraging, and I wonder at what point I’ll have to finally emerge from my room.
I’m not sure why I’m such a whiner. I’m not sure why I’m in such a funk, but I can’t seem to break out of it.
I’m trying to find a show to binge—that was all that made me feel better for close to a year after Jason died—when I hear a strange tapping on my window.
At first, I assume it’s a bird. But then I hear a sort of mumbling sound along with it that a bird definitely could not make.
I cross my room to the window and find myself face-to-face with Jack. He’s beaming. He lifts up a bag. “I come bearing food.”
It takes me a full minute and a half to figure out how to unlatch the very old, not-quite-plumb window. “What on earth are you doing here?” My stomach growls, undercutting my somewhat severe tone.
Did I sound too pathetic in my texts? Did I fail to cover up the evidence of what a mess I really am?
Jack hops through the window with just one hand, like he’s had way too much experience doing that, and he sets the bag on my nightstand. “So this is your bedroom.” He looks around with a half-smile.
I whack his shoulder. “Seriously, Jack, what’s going on?”
He spins, grabs my waist with one hand, and kisses me with enthusiasm.
He kisses me past my questions, and past my doubts.
He kisses me like it’s all he’s wanted to do all day, like it’s all he wants to do all night.
While he’s kissing me, all my fears and all my concerns shoot right out of my brain.
The kiss deepens, his hand brushing my hair back from my face and caressing my cheek.
“Vanessa,” he whispers, pulling back just enough that I can breathe again.
“What?”
He smiles so close to my face that I can barely see it. “You were having a bad day, and my job, as part of the boyfriend contract, is to fix that. I took a half day off, and here I am.”
“But—you have practice later.”
“Three hours,” he whispers again. “I have three hours until then.” And then he kisses me again.
When he finally releases me, he’s breathing as heavily I am.
“That’s enough time to eat, kiss a little more or maybe a lot more, and watch a show as long as it’s not too long.
” He points at the bed, and then he snags the remote from where it’s sitting next to the bag.
“I brought your favorite sandwich, and your favorite soup, and I brought some of my mom’s apple cake. ”
Hearing him mention his mom isn’t that encouraging. She hasn’t wrecked my day today, but I’m stressed every time I think about her. “Look, it’s a really nice idea, but—”
He kisses me again.
“Jack.” I whap his amazing, sculpted chest when he finally stops. “You can’t kiss me every time I object.”
He frowns. “Why not?”
“Because—”
He kisses me again.
“This isn’t—”
Again.
This time, when he releases me, I’m smiling, even if it’s a beleaguered smile. “That’s more like it.” He swings around me and sits on the bed, pulling me over onto his lap. “Now what would you rather do first. Eat? Or watch a show?”
“Can we start with the apple cake?”
He’s grinning. “Of course.”
His mom may suck, but her apple cake doesn’t, and neither does Jack. Not in the slightest. I had almost forgotten that when you have someone you really love by your side, everything that’s hard gets a little bit better. Even thinking the word love makes me nervous.
But I can’t help it.
I think it might be true.