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“Thanks,” she says, obliviously checking her phone. “Oh, wow, you called me a lot. So… Jace is at Kelly’s?”
He grunts out a yes.
“Geez. What a ray of sunshine you are.” She lets out a laugh.
This is like the calm before the storm. It’s only going to get worse. So I turn around in my seat and say, gently, “Your brother’s a little upset because he was at my place last night. He got a call in the morning from your son, who couldn’t get in touch with you. He’d been home alone last night.”
She stares, her smile fading to concern. “Oh,” she says, sheepish.
“Yeah,” Brooks fills in, imitating her. “Oh.”
I put a hand on his arm before he can lay into her. By then, we’re at the coffee shop. Since Kelly’s taking care of Jace, I suggest we go inside and talk. The two of them look at me like they have nothing to say, but eventually, they agree.
We get our coffees and sit in a quiet corner. The two of them sit as far away from each other as possible, silently staring into their coffees, with me in the center. I bet if I weren’t there, they’d come out punching.
I look between them, hoping one of them would be adult enough to break the ice, but it doesn’t happen. Something tells me the ice is too thick.
Finally, I can’t take it anymore. “Look. You each thought the other one was home to watch Jace. This is just a misunderstanding.”
“We have a lot of those,” Brooks says under his breath, shifting in his seat, still not looking at her.
Without warning, Ellie covers her face with her hands and begins to cry.
He watches her, unmoved. I glare at him, and he lets out a sigh. “Okay, okay. It’s fine. I guess I should’ve told you I was leaving. I thought you were asleep.”
Ellie doesn’t say anything. She simply sobs quietly. I put a hand on her shoulder. “You’re a good mom. You never would’ve left him, had you known.”
“Never,” she says, sniffling. “I think about how scared he must’ve been when he woke up alone. Oh god. Kelly said he’s okay?”
She finally looks to Brooks, who nods, and the next time he speaks, his voice is softer. “Yeah. He’s okay.”
They start to talk about taking him someplace fun this weekend to make up for it, and I smile. I think we might have just thawed the next cold war.
30
I’ve never seen Jace smile so big.
It’s a perfect summer day, with a cool breeze blowing off the ocean and copious amounts of cloudless sunshine. We’re spending the Sunday at Funtown Splashtown, one of Maine’s few amusement parks. It’s our peace offering for the royal screw-up Ellie and I made Friday night. I think Jace forgot all about it the second his mom walked through the door, but I still felt like some retribution was in order.
Now Jace is riding a little boat on Cactus Canyon doing nothing but going around in circles, but he’s pretending like he’s the captain of this pirate ship and having a grand old time. “Ahoy maties!” he calls to us.
“Ahoy!” we call back from our shaded seats on a nearby bench.
I look down at my phone, and the message Tenley sent me.
Tenley: I hope you two are still talking, and that wasn’t a show for my benefit.
I frown at the message. When we came off the BLIND LOVE app, I thought we’d just continue our flirty banter via text. Not so much.
Brooks: Relax. We are talking. We’re at the park with Jace right now.
Tenley: The three of you? That’s great!
Hmm. I’ve tried to sway her to other things, but she seems intent on discussing my relationship with Ellie, as if I’m just one of her cases from the women’s center.
I can only think it means one thing—regret.
But I decide to test her anyway.
Brooks: So when can I get you under me again?
Nothing at first, and then the message switches from “delivered” to “read.” Then, the ellipsis. It disappears and appears a few times before her response shows up:
Tenley: Not sure. Busy.
Okay. There’s definitely regret at play here.
Before I can think of a response, Ellie jumps up and starts taking pictures of Jace, on the ride. “Jace! Jace, baby! Smile!” She snaps the pictures and stares at her phone. “That’s a good one. He’s so cute.”
She walks back to me in her sunglasses and obscenely short shorts, grinning maniacally, oblivious to all the looks she’s getting from fathers with their kids. Collapsing on the bench next to me, she shows me the photo. She’s right. That’s one cute kid.
“Thanks,” she says quietly, as we’re both staring at it. “For bringing us here. I know the tickets cost a fortune.”
I wave her off. “Every kid needs to come to Funtown at least once in their childhood.”
