Chapter 9
LINCOLN
“Dammit!” I yell, pounding my steering wheel with both fists when the bells start ringing, the lights start flashing and the red and white striped gates start lowering at the railway crossing up ahead.
I’d been hoping to make it past the tracks before the mid-afternoon freight train rolled into town.
But after the day from hell I’ve had, here I am, at a complete standstill in the endless line of cars stuck behind the train.
I’d forgotten how life in small town Fairy Bush revolves around the stupid railway tracks.
I should have called it quits on that pointless business meeting much sooner. I need to pick up Cameron from school. Then I need to get home, make dinner, help with homework and get some work finished before bedtime. Now that I don’t have a babysitter anymore, every moment counts.
Realizing that I have no chance of getting to the other side of town before the elementary school pickup time, I shoot a desperate text message into my family group chat.
Me: Can anyone help me out? I’ve got to get Cameron from school in the next fifteen minutes and I’m stuck at the damn train crossing
Within a minute or two, the replies start rolling in.
Easton: Sorry, bro. I’m at an away game tonight, remember? About to kick some Mountaineers ass in a few hours. Wish me luck
Last hockey season, an ankle injury put Easton out of the game for several months. That’s how he ended up hiding out here in Fairy Bush, healing up, moping around and falling in love with Alba.
But now, he’s finally back on the ice as a defenseman for the Sin Valley Saints, and he’s as enthusiastic about the sport as he used to be during his rookie year.
I’m glad that my brother is passionate about his life, but in moments like right now, it just shines a spotlight on how very chaotic my own life is.
Another incoming message makes my phone ding.
Oliver: Out of town for work
End of story.
We all know better than to ask our youngest brother what that means. He’s in private security now that he’s left the military, that much I know. But as far as the specifics of what’s going on in his world? Oliver is super secretive about, well, everything.
At this point, I think I’m kind of scared to know what my youngest brother is actually up to in life.
Rocco’s message comes in next.
Rocco: Sorry, bro. I’d love to hang out with Cam but I’m back at work today too
Rocco also works for the Sin Valley Saints. He’s been a part of the team’s crew of personal trainers for the past few years. He started spending more time here in Fairy Bush back when Easton was stationed out here, recovering from his ankle injury. But officially, Rocco’s life is in Sin Valley.
Oliver: I thought you had a nanny. What happened to her?
I create a voice note, explaining to the guys that I got ditched by yet another caregiver.
Rocco: Man, what the hell have you been doing to chase all those women away? Am I going to have to give you a crash course in how to deal with the ladies? Because this is getting concerning!
I hate that he’s sort of right. Charming women has been pretty low on my list of priorities in recent times.
I’m more than a little rusty when it comes to dealing with the opposite sex.
That was obvious the other night at Jules’s house.
I may have given her an orgasm that made her toes curl, but now, she seems to be back to wanting to strangle me with her bare hands.
Another message comes in.
Oliver: When was the last time you went on a date anyway?
Internally, I grunt.
Me: Last weekend
Fooling around with Jules counts as a date, right? Close enough, I decide.
Rocco: Liar.
Easton: You should be meeting new people. Not bailing on every social interaction just to spend all your nights at your desk. Don’t think I didn’t notice that you snuck out of my housewarming party to go home early and work.
I snuck out of your housewarming party to go bury my face between Jules’s legs. But I’m content to let my brothers just think I was working that night.
Rocco: You should just get out there. Live a little.
I snort.
Lincoln: Yeah. Sure.
The last time I ‘put myself out there’, it ended with me nutting in my boxers then duck-waddling across Jules’s house at the crack of dawn while some random woman sat on the couch, gawking at my bare ass. I have no intention to ‘put myself out there’ again any time soon.
And I am so done with this conversation.
When a text message from Mom finally pops into the group chat, I breathe a sigh of relief .
Mom: Hey guys. Alba’s working late tonight so I’m on my way to pick up Jagger from school. I can get Cam as well. We’ll all have dinner together and you can pick him up later, Linc. Sounds like you could use an hour or two to yourself.
Gosh—my mother is a literal angel.
I message her back, letting her know that I’m eternally grateful for her help. I promise to swing by to get my son in a few hours.
But even though today’s childcare crisis has been averted, I can’t help but feel like a shitty dad. I mean, having a reliable system for picking my kid up from school is the bare minimum of functioning as a parent.
All those years, Cynthia made the parenting thing seem effortless. Not just school drop-offs and pick-ups. Play dates and doctor’s appointments and extracurriculars and sick days—she seamlessly managed it all.
Yet here I am, struggling, barely keeping my head above water. I’m starting to realize how much of my ex-wife’s labor I took for granted. Not a great feeling.
Maybe my potential business partners are right. Maybe everything they said about me over lunch is true. Maybe I do lack stability. Maybe I’m failing at life.
In this moment, I’m starting to see why those men would want their newest business partner to be married. Maybe what they’re requiring of me isn’t unreasonable after all.
My spiraling thought loops bring me back to that conversation I had with Jules earlier. My crazy suggestion replays in my head.
You and I don’t like each other. Maybe we should get married. It might just solve some of our problems.
Having a clean image has always been important to me. What if it’s not just about crisp business suits and expensive haircuts? What if being a married man could be a part of that image? Even if the marriage is just for show.
I give my head a hard shake to rid myself of that thought. It’s crazy and Jules was right to shut me down the minute I suggested it.
She’d be the last woman I would even consider marrying anyway. Case in point, she just quit her job today—in the most dramatic fashion possible. She’s spontaneous. She’s impulsive. Her temper is explosive. She proved that yet again today with the way she stormed out of that restaurant.
Jules is definitely not Ms.-Right-For-Me.
Yet, I can’t help but remember that desperate look on her face when she spoke about getting shut out of her trust fund. I don’t know the specifics of her financial situation, but now that she’s jobless, I’m sure she needs her family money now more than ever.
Jules is a big girl. She can figure out her cashflow problems by herself. Not sure why a part of me wants to be her solution, though.
Up ahead, the train continues to chug along, not giving a fuck that it’s currently taking a shit on my plans for the rest of the day.
With a sigh, I decide that I might as well do something productive while I wait.
Remembering that I have a few items that have been sitting idly in my online shopping cart, I open the app on my phone.
As I’m scrolling past the endless limited-time deals and gift recommendations on the homepage, a ring catches my attention. It’s sterling silver with one hell of a cubic zirconia stone sitting between two smaller side stones. It’s priced at twenty percent off and it comes with two-hour shipping.
I chuckle to myself, imagining the deadly look Jules would give me if I were ever to present that ring to her.
But my desperate life circumstances flash through my mind again.
Is this marriage thing such a crazy idea?
After all, people get married for convenience all the time.
Don’t they? And marrying Jules right now would certainly be convenient.
I double-check the purchases I’ve placed in my shopping cart. But right as I’m about to hit the ‘checkout’ button, I find myself navigating back to that stupid, cheap engagement ring on the homepage.
You and I don’t like each other. Maybe we should get married. It might just solve some of our problems.
I quit thinking. I quit relying on logic. Because the truth is, Jules and I both need this.
Next thing I know, the engagement ring is in my cart and I’m pressing the ‘checkout’ button.
I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me.