Page 33 of Learning at 40

I chuckle. She’s the one I thought needed improvement in this area, but I realize there’s a lot I could learn from her.

“Would tomorrow be too soon to spend a day with you? Me and the boys?” I sheepishly ask, not wanting to break her promise to my sons but inserting myself into the plans.

“Tomorrow sounds like a date,” she teases, pulling back to look me in the face. “And bring your story with you.”

She winks, and I’m captured. I’m going to confess all my dark secrets, and then she’s no longer going to adore me as I’d hoped.

12

[River]

It’s barely nine in the morning when a sharp whoop and a loud holler pull my attention to my backyard. Running across the lawn are two T-shirt-clad pirates, complete with eye patches, bandanas, and pirate hats. One carries the telescope. Another holds a plastic sword.

Oh boy.

I exit into the yard through the sliding glass doors and find a sheepish father rounding the house, scratching at the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry it’s early. They’ve been up for hours. I held them back as long as I could.”

“It’s fine,” I say with a wave. “Coffee?”

Zack shakes his head. “I’ve already had two cups.”

“Be right back then,” I say, pointing at the house and then pause. “Want to come in?”

Zack turns to look at the back of the house before glancing at me. “Another time.” He points toward the tree house. “I better watch them.”

As I enter the house to make myself a cup of tea, I watch Zack stand below my tree, gazing up at his boys tipping over the low walls of the tree fort. Trevor holds the telescope outward as if scanning the lake. Oliver drops through the entrance and scrambles down the new ladder. A swing was added as the platform was extended, and Oliver climbs onto it. He pumps his little legs while Zack slips his hands into his pockets and watches his son.

I don’t suspect he’s speaking to them. He’s such a strange man when it comes to his boys. I don’t understand why he isn’t more affectionate with them. Then again, some people just aren’t. Quincy admitted he was a distant father. A disciplining man. He let his wife be the soft one in their parenting. His children are even older than me, and I’m grateful I’m not technically related to them.

I continue to hold on to the hope that Zack can be different.

Returning to the yard with my tea, I stretch out on the chaise. The day will be warm, and I’m dressed in shorts and a tank top. This is my day off, and I plan to devote the entire day to the Weller men.

“Kept my clothes on for you,” I tease, and Zack turns around. Slowly, he makes his way to the lounger and crawls up next to me.

“I wish you would take them off.”

“Now?” I flirt, tilting my head and giving him a teasing smile.

“Definitely not now,” he says, pouting in that way he does.

“So, no friends-cation activities today.” From my understanding of things, the group is gathered in both memorial to their friend and a new tradition that began a year ago. It sounds like roughly the time I moved into the house. Their days are packed with activities for the crew that includes adults and kids ranging from teenagers down to an infant.

“The only rule is dinner together every night. Ben didn’t want us to feel confined to schedules, but he also didn’t want us each going our separate ways, especially Mason, who has a tendency to wander and shack up with random women.”

“And Zack would never do that,” I tease, shaking my head, knowing enough about this man that random isn’t his style. However, I am curious if he’s been with anyone since his divorce.

“Zack doesn’t do that,” he admits. “I’ve already told you, the last one-night stand I had turned into my wife.”

“And how long have you been divorced?” It’s the perfect opening to learn more about father and sons.

“Since March.” Zack squints up at his boys. “It was this time last year that I learned of Jeanine’s affair. It’d been going on for a while with some young intern in her office. She said she couldn’t come on vacation with us here because she had a business trip in France. Paris. Conveniently romantic for business. Turns out, she took her own vacation with the boy toy.”

“And you’re not bitter,” I sarcastically tease, although I’m being harsh. No one wants to be cheated on.

“I’m not. Not really. It’s hard to be bitter about her because then I’d have to say I had feelings for her, which I didn’t. I’m only bitter that I lost out on time and love with someone else.”