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“Are they aware of the situation? Can you give me their phone number, Mrs. Greyer?”
“Uh, no, I don’t think so. Hold on. Let me think. 512-555-2311.”
“Okay, we’re letting them know to stand down. Now, do you see the squad car coming up on your right?”
“Yes.”
“I want you to follow it and pull over when he does, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I’m going to stay on until you’re parked safely, okay?”
“Okay. We’re pulling over.”
“Good. Now, I want you to pay careful attention to his directions, all right?”
“Okay. The officer’s here at my window.” Addie sighed, hung up the phone, and reached for the boys.
Eight
Patrick arrived at the cabin to find Michele waiting at the table with dinner ready. Michele reminded him a little bit of his mother, but in all of the good ways, of course. She was always ready to just jump in and handle whatever it was that needed to be handled, and she rarely asked anything of him until now.
Driving in, he couldn’t help but notice how run-down the place looked since they had been there last, a few years or so ago. It was one of the first places Michele took him so they could spend time together. It was so hard back at home, because while they worked together and it was expected for them to be seen around town together, they couldn’t really actually be together. So after that first trip, Michele surprised Patrick by buying the place, and they’d since spent many weekends here together “working.” Addie questioned him about it a few times but seemed content when he downplayed it as a fishing trip with the guys. She’d always been so busy with the kids anyway.
Michele stood, interrupting his thoughts. Eyeing the fancy spread, he winked. “Don’t you want to try out the bed first?”
Michele took a step forward and kissed his cheek. “Hello to you too.”
Patrick took off his coat and laid it over the chair. As Michele handed him a glass of red wine, he noticed there was something a little off about her; although, he couldn’t quite gauge what it was. “This looks nice,” Patrick noted, motioning towards the table.
Michele frowned, glancing at her watch. “Yeah, well, I’ve been waiting a while, and dinner’s already getting cold. So let’s eat.”
Patrick pulled out her chair and sat. “I didn’t think you planned to return to the States so soon, but I’m really glad you’re here.”
“I don’t want to talk about work, Patrick.”
“Okay.”
“How’s the family?” Michele questioned.
Patrick raised his eyebrows. “Oh, you know, same ol’ same ol’. The boys are getting bigger by the minute.”
Michele pushed back from the table. “Any plans on leaving anytime soon, Patrick? Or is this always how it’s going to be? You know, just a weekend thing.”
“Come on, Michele. Let’s just eat. We can discuss all of that later.”
Michele pulled the tablecloth out from underneath the meal, throwing everything on the floor. “FUCK YOU, Patrick. Is this what I am to you? A fucking side dish? Something you can just use whenever you want?”
Patrick stood, wine soaking his pants. “Jesus. What has gotten into you? Let’s just calm down, okay?”
Michele picked up at dishtowel and threw it at his face. “CALM DOWN? YOU WANT ME TO CALM DOWN? Well, I want you to fucking say something. Say anything. But for goodness’ sake, say SOMETHING.”
Patrick frowned and toweled off. “I am, and I’m saying, ‘Calm down, Michele.’ Whatever this—this little episode—is about we can work it out.”
“Can we? Can we really just work it all out? Michele retorted.
“Let’s go shower. It appears we both could use one,” Patrick pleaded, tossing the dishtowel in with the mess on the floor.
