“That’s what I said,” Davi says. “They’re meant to be. You don’t just break up when you’re meant to be.”
“People break up for all sorts of reasons,” I say as I dig into another bag, pulling out a box of cereal and a wedge of Parmesan. “Meant to be or not.”
Everett makes a sound behind me. It could have been a cough, a clearing of the throat, something entirely unrelated to what I said. In all likelihood, it was, but in my mind, there is no world in which it wasn’t a scoff. I pivot on my heel to look at him where he’s placing apples in a fruit bowl on the counter.
“Why doyouthink people break up, Everett?” I say.
“Hmm?” he says, casually, like he didn’t hear me.
“We’re trying to figure out what exactly happened between Laurel and Stephen,” I say, gesturing to where Davi and Gabe are standing on the opposite side of the island, watching us. “So what’s your take on why people split up?”
Everett turns fully toward me, hips sinking back against the counter behind him, hands sliding casually into the pockets of his jeans. He shrugs his shoulders, the movement hitching his sleeves a quarter-inch higher on his arms, revealing more of his tanned biceps. My eyes snap back to his face.
“I think that sometimes it just doesn’t work anymore,” he says. “Maybe they just got tired of it.”
“Tired of it,” I repeat. “So you think that if you get bored you should just leave?”
“I think if you’re bored in the first place, it’s probably not the right relationship for you,” Everett says.
“Tired of what, then?” I ask. “Of being with someone? Of being married?”
Everett draws in a deep breath, eyes glancing across the surface of the island behind me. I think he might not answer, soI turn to the counter again, tugging another bag toward me a little too forcefully.
“Tired of the work of it,” he says, finally. I bristle, an aggravated pinch running down my spine.
“Shocker,” I mutter, yanking a jug of orange juice out of the bag.
“Excuse me?” Everett says. I can hear it in his tone: irritation, something I so rarely used to hear from him before. Even then, it was always about something else outside of us. Something at work, bad weather. His dad, usually. Except, of course, the last time. When anger seemed like the only thing left between us.
“Nothing,” I say. “Just that four months seems to be about your cutoff in a relationship, so I don’t know how valuable your take is.”
“Youaskedme what my take is,” he points out. “And besides, what’s your cutoff? Two weeks?”
“At least I don’t call them relationships,” I say, looking back at him.
“Which means you probably aren’t qualified to comment on one either.”
“Okay, whoa,” Davi says, from behind us. I turn to see him waving a hand, Gabe watching silently next to him. “White flag, or whatever.”
“Only one ofuscan wave the white flag,” I say.
“Then, I don’t know,” Davi says. He motions at Gabe. “Whatever you and Mia say to the heathens when they won’t shut up.”
“We usually tell ourchildren,Rileyand Chloe,to use their words better,” Gabe says with an annoyed glance at Davi. “And we don’t use the wordsshut upin any context.”
“Whatever,” Davi says. He sighs and looks at us. “Can we use our words, Everett and Sutton?”
“What, we’re children now?” I snap.
Gabe winces slightly. “A response like that would usually mean reflection time in their rooms.”
Davi’s face goes flat. “What the fuck is reflection time.”
“It’s like a time-out, but that language is too harsh now,” Gabe says, voice low as if Riley and Chloe are in the room with us, learning all of his secrets. Davi holds up his hands.
“I’m never getting married, I’m never parenting,” he says. He points between us. “You two. Reflect. I’m going to the beach with Laurel.”
“But look!” Gabe insists as he stands up and follows Davi. “You’re a natural already!”
