Chapter Sixteen
Jess
Mackie pops her head in at five. “You need anything?”
Through blurry, tired eyes I can see she’s changed her clothes.
“No,” I say, stretching my back. “I’m going to take the rest of this home.” I give her a once-over. “You look pretty.”
“Why, thank you,” she says, doing a ridiculous little curtsy. “Everyone at my mom’s retirement home won’t know what hit them.”
I laugh. “Get it, girl.” Then I make a shooing motion. “Go before you’re late.”
She nods, putting on her coat. “Don’t forget daycare closes at seven today.”
“Go,” I say quickly instead of admitting that yes, I absolutely did forget.
The door clicks shut behind her.
I rub the center of my back and glance around the office.
Why am I doing this in this uncomfortable chair when I could be doing it at home on my comfy couch?
Well, it’s because at home, I’ll have to entertain the children I barely see and play with the dogs I’ve apparently forgotten exist, because incidentally I have to do everything myself now.
Okay, that’s not entirely fair.
I have a newfound respect for Logan for doing this endless crap for years. But he did have the privilege of me handling the home front for him.
I’m pretty sure he never sat at his desk wondering what to make for dinner or if feeding the kids chicken nuggets makes him a bad mom.
“Ah, fuck,” I mutter to myself.
I might have to feed the dogs nuggets too.
We don’t keep kibble in the house because I lost my childhood dog to an intestinal blockage from bad kibble, and I will never risk my babies like that again.
Normally I’d make them chicken and rice, but I haven’t had time to cook stock or prep anything.
So yeah.
I might have to get over my kibble phobia tonight. Just another thing to add to the list.
My phone buzzes about ten minutes later.
Picked up the kids. Taking them to Darren’s.
I blink at the screen.
Of course.
Another message follows almost immediately.
You should come. Bronwyn is back.
“Sure,” I mutter sarcastically to myself.
Bronwyn, who didn’t even like me back when I was just Simone’s annoying friend.
I’m sure she’ll absolutely adore me now that I’m Simone’s brother-in-law’s cheating wife.
Because that’s what I am to Simone now. The title that apparently replaced “best friend.”
My friend disappeared somewhere between not answering my texts and pretending not to be home when I stopped by their house.
And I don’t get it.
Friends are supposed to support you when you mess up, not line up to judge you right along with everyone else.
Our friendship survived decades. I didn’t judge her when she dumped Darren after his accident. No, I let her vent, then I helped her get him back.
But sure, hide in plain sight when I come by. I’d been too hurt to even use my key.
I stare at the message thread, thumb hovering over the screen.
Part of me wants to ignore it out of spite.
Another part knows Logan inviting me is an olive branch I probably shouldn’t waste.
With a sigh, I type back.
I’ll try to make it.
Then I toss my phone into my bag and start gathering the rest of my work.
I could go to Darren’s, where the only people who’d actually be happy to see me are the boys and, oddly enough, Darren.
You’d think Logan’s brother would want to spit at me on the street after what I did, but he’s been shockingly mature about the whole thing.
So yeah. I could go there.
Or I could go home, spend some time with my furry babies, and make them dinner.
I don’t even bother pretending it’s a tough choice.
Home wins.
Grabbing my things, I head for the elevator.
On the way home, I stop at the store and pick up chicken bones and a six-pack of beer. I’m more of a wine girl, but right now a cold, hard beer sounds like heaven.
Once I’m home, I put on some music and rinse the bones before setting them to boil on the stove. I get the rice going next to it.
I know people like to add vitamins and supplements and all kinds of extras to homemade dog food, but I’ve found that basic chicken stock and rice with soft bones does just fine. Plus, I give them one of those giant chew bones every few weeks that supposedly has all the good stuff anyway.
Both dogs are healthy and happy. That’s what matters.
After giving them both plenty of attention and love, because I’ve been a terrible dog mom lately, I settle onto the sofa with a beer and spread the paperwork out around me.
I’m on my third beer by the time I finish everything.
After feeding the dogs, I let them out into the backyard and settle into the patio chair with a cup of decaf.
I must’ve dozed off watching Ty run after Bell when she steals his twisty rope. Because the next thing I know, someone is gently shaking my shoulder.
“Jess.”
I blink up at Logan.
“Hey,” I say, sitting up slowly. “When’d you get back?” My voice comes out scratchy and thick.
“We just got back.”
“Oh.” I glance toward the house automatically, like the boys might magically appear.
Logan must see me looking cause he says, “They fell asleep in the car. I put them to bed.”
“Oh.” My chest sinks a little. “I missed them.”
“You know you could’ve come if you wanted to see them,” he says.
I rub my eyes and stand, picking up my empty cup as I follow him inside. “I had work.”
“Yeah?” he replies dryly. “I saw the empty bottles.”
I stare at his tense back.
“Forgive me for doing something for myself,” I mutter.
He scoffs and starts turning off the lights as he moves through the house.
I’m not in the mood for food, so I don’t mention that I haven’t had dinner. Instead, I start locking up behind him.
“I’m just saying,” he adds, not looking at me, “Simone asked about you.”
That gets my attention.
“What’d she say?”
“She asked if you were coming.”
I huff softly. “I’m guessing she wasn’t exactly disappointed when I didn’t.”
He stops and turns slightly. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing,” I say quickly.
Before he can push further, I slip down the hallway to the boys’ room.
The nightlight casts a soft glow across their faces.
I brush a kiss against each forehead.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, though I’m not entirely sure who I’m apologizing to anymore.
When I step back into the hallway, Logan is still there.
Waiting.
Logan
“What did you mean?” I ask, crossing my arms.
She exhales sharply. “Logan, I’m not in the mood right now. And aren’t we not supposed to talk?”
She walks past me toward our bedroom.
I follow her in and close the door behind us.
“I want to know what you meant,” I say, more forcefully this time.
She takes a deep breath, her hand pausing on one of the hundred decorative pillows covering our bed.
“Well, I want to know a lot of things,” she snaps, throwing the pillow onto the vanity chair. “But you don’t see me asking.”
“I’m still working on it,” I say, not even pretending I don’t know what she means.
“Well, so is Simone,” she shoots back.
I frown. “What?”
“Simone hasn’t forgiven me,” she clarifies. “For lying.”
“You lied to me,” I say, confused by where this is going.
“Tell her that,” Jess mutters.
And that’s when I see it.
She’s trying really hard to act like it doesn’t bother her. But I know Jess. Simone is like a sister to her. And this? This hurts.
“I’ll talk to her,” I say immediately.
“Don’t,” she says quickly. “It’s between her and me. I don’t need you fighting my battles. Especially not about this.”
Her voice is firm, but there’s something fragile underneath it.
For a second, I don’t know what to say.
Because this is different.
This isn’t about us. This is about her losing someone she loves.
And as much as I’m still angry… I don’t like seeing her punished for something that’s ours. Simone has no right to be angry, especially on my behalf.
Biting my tongue, I walk over and start helping her unmake the bed.
“How’s therapy going?” I ask.
Jess freezes for half a second.
This is the first time I’ve asked her something that isn’t about logistics.
“It’s… uh, good,” she says slowly. “Claudia keeps tracing everything back to my childhood, though. I mean… what is that?” She laughs softly.
I nod. “Dr. Brett does the same. It’s kind of why I’ve been avoiding him lately.”
“Why?” she asks.
I hesitate. “He… wants me to confront my dad. Or, I don’t know, confront isn’t the right word. Just… talk.”
Jess nods slowly. She knows what about.
The whole thing between my parents and Manuel was a huge deal around our wedding. Manuel wanted to come. Mom obviously said no. Dad said it was our decision.
Which, of course, meant not inviting the man my father inadvertently left my mother for.
“And you won’t?” Jess asks carefully.
I look at her. “You think I should?”
She shrugs, then seems to rethink it. “I don’t know. I was hesitant about therapy too. But Claudia’s helped me with issues I didn’t even know I had.”
She smooths the comforter absently.
“I mean, she’s the reason I’ve been so patient.”
She says it lightly. But pointedly.
I decide to ignore that part.
“What would I even say to my father?” I ask instead. “I mean… I had a good childhood.”
Jess bites her lip and stares at the bed we’re both just patting at now, pretending to fix wrinkles because we’re not ready for the conversation to end.
I brace myself, half-expecting the fragile peace between us to crack.
But when she looks up at me, her expression is steady.
“I want you to say all the things young you imagined saying.”
“I didn’t imagine-” I start.
The look she gives me cuts me off.
“We all do it,” she says softly. “You know. Pretend to confront someone. Tell yourself you’re practicing. Even though you know you’ll never actually do it.”
I don’t respond.
“I did it,” she adds with a small shrug. “I used to pretend I was talking to my parents. Saying everything I wanted to say but couldn’t.”
“How’d you deal with it?” I ask.
She smiles faintly. “Well… since my parents aren’t exactly in my life anymore, I wrote a letter. I poured everything into it.”
“And?”
“I might send it. I might not,” she says. “But getting it all out? That helped.”
“Dr. Brett wanted me to write one too.” I admit, “I told him I’d rather talk face to face.”
“And?” she asks.
“And I haven’t been back since.”
The words sound worse out loud.
I turn before she can respond and walk into the bathroom to get ready for bed.
Half hoping she’ll be asleep by the time I come back out, I take my sweet time brushing my teeth.
No luck.
Jess is sitting up on her side of the bed, tablet in hand.
I slide into bed and wait for her to say something. She doesn’t. She just keeps tapping away.
“What are you doing?” I finally ask when she doesn’t even glance my way.
“What?” She looks up, startled, then realizes how close my face is to hers. “Oh. I’m looking into this software Jeremy mentioned. The one he used for automated invoices.”
Fucking Jeremy.
I scowl but don’t say it out loud.
Jess doesn’t notice my reaction. “I was thinking about hiring someone to handle invoicing, but then I remembered Jeremy talking about this app. I can’t find it though, so I’ll just call him-”
She reaches for her phone.
“No,” I snap.
She blinks.
“I mean, it’s late,” I add quickly not wanting her to think this is something it definitely isn’t.
“Oh.” She checks the time. “Right. I’ll call him tomorrow.”
“Don’t,” I say.
She frowns. “Why?”
“I’ll help you.”
She shakes her head. “No. You did all this alone before. It’s not your fault I can’t keep up.”
Her voice sounds small. Insecure. That’s not something I’m used to hearing from Jess.
“I wasn’t alone,” I say quietly. “You helped. And besides, there’s more work now. I was actually thinking about promoting Arnon.”
Her head snaps toward me. “What?”
“I can hire a new assistant.” I reply, shaking my head. “He’s way too qualified to be getting my coffee anyway.”
“Hm,” Jess says softly.
Following my lead, she slides down under the covers too.
Neither of us says anything else.
And it’s not long before I fall asleep wondering why her calling Jeremy bugged me so much.