Page 117 of The Best Laid Plans


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I set my phone on the counter. “Nothing to get caught up on, Tans.”

“What an absolute crock of shit.”

“Mom,” Ford said.

“Kid, I’m exhausted. I don’t have the mental capacity for a bad-word filter, okay?”

He rolled his eyes, flopping onto the couch when it was obvious I wouldn’t be starting our video game immediately.

“I’m not in the mood for an I-told-you-so speech,” I told her.

Tansy held up her hands. “I won’t.”

I exhaled slowly, then spilled the entire story, not skimming over anything. It had been years since I’d strung together that many words in a row, and it felt good to have someone to talk to about everything that had happened with Charlotte since she’d shown me that fucking PowerPoint presentation.

When I told her Charlotte still wanted to come to the event at the Big House, Tansy’s face morphed into a triumphant smile. I jabbed a finger in the air. “Don’t.”

She swallowed it down, but her eyes were screaming at me—that annoying sisterly look that made me think I’d just made her entire year. “I didn’t say a word.”

“Nothing can come from this, Tans.”

Her face lost the triumph. The excitement. “Why not?”

“Charlotte was very clear about what this is. I agreed from the outset.”

“What if the things she wants have changed?” Tansy sat up straighter. “I don’t think it’s up to you to decide. Besides, I can turn that around on you too. You deserve more than a fling with an expiration date, and don’t you dare tell me that’s all you’re capable of.”

“I didn’t say it’s what I wanted.” I held her unflinching gaze. “I’ve never been that guy until I agreed to this, and maybe that’s part of the problem. I have family here. I’m trying to find a house here. This is the place where I decided to put down roots. I never should have started anything with her.”

My sister shook her head. “You are the most loyal man I have ever known. And you’re also a giant fucking idiot.”

“Mom.”

“Sorry, Ford,” Tansy yelled. “But he is.”

I gave her a long look. “She has a job that will take her ... all over, if that’s what she wants. The thing she loves to do isn’t centered in one place. She can go anywhere.”

Tansy’s hand slid over mine, and she pinned me in place with a ruthlessly honest gaze. “She’s not Angela.”

I tried to tug my hand away, and she refused to let go.

“She’snotAngela,” she repeated.

My heart went cold at the comparison. At the thought of Charlotte ever looking at me with the kind of contempt that my ex-wife had. At the thought of Charlotte ever feeling like what she wanted didn’t matter.

That I’d ever cause her that kind of pain.

And even though I knew what Tansy was getting at, I couldn’t poke that bruise. Not right now.

I forced a swallow and pulled my hand out from underneath my sister’s. “Once this renovation is done, there’s absolutely no reason for me to stay in Michigan. Even if all I do is keep that house ready until Mira is old enough, like Chris told me all those years ago. He wantedit for his family, his kids.” My throat was raw as I said it. “There’s no purpose for me there. No reason for me to stay.”

Saying the words felt an awful lot like someone was about to saw my arm off. There was no precision or finesse to this particular amputation, just the stunning, breath-stealing loss of something that had taken over my life.

“Do you want to stay?” Tansy asked quietly.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does.”

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