Page 70 of Passing Notes
Iwas running behind schedule. Instead of dropping off the kids with Morgan in the parking lot, I’d had to drag them all around that damn festival trying to find her, and I had the feeling I’d somehow pissed Clara off when I’d introduced her to Morgan’s douchey fiancé.
Making small talk with Morgan was never my idea of a good time, and adding in her fiancé? No thank you. It had wrecked my mood.
To be fair, I had no reason to dislike Malcolm; he just gave me a dirtbag vibe. But bad vibes weren’t enough to act like a dick to him, and the kids had no complaints, so I always kept things cool and cordial whenever I was around him which, luckily, was not often.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and sent Clara a text to apologize for acting like a grouchy ass at the festival.
After leaving the kids with Morgan, I’d stopped at the Piggly Wiggly for wine and dinner ingredients. How the place was that busy when half the town was at the festival was beyond me.
I was late for my football game, still had to get the steaks in the marinade, and now someone was banging on my damn door.
My brother’s voice rang out. “Hey, Nick. I know you’re in there. It’s Sam, open up!”
I stalked to the front door determined to get rid of him. I was in no mood for whatever family bullshit he was most likely coming to harangue me with. I’d done my familial duties for the day in dropping off the kids with Morgan, but now I was running late. I was supposed to be at the Smoky Mountain Inn in a few minutes for football and I needed it. I was tense, and a good game always helped me unwind—that, or a long nap. Honestly, I was torn between the two.
Clara and I were having dinner together tonight, and I was exhausted. I wanted to play some ball, come home and shower, have dinner with Clara, then spend the rest of the night buried inside of her—in that order. Sam and his bullshit did not fit into my plans for the day.
I threw open the door. “I don’t have time for this?—”
He looked like shit. Messy, unkempt. Not at all like the polished, impeccable man he’d become after taking the job with our stepfather.
“We have to talk.” He shoved around me and headed for the kitchen. “I need a drink—” He spotted the grocery bags, the bottle of wine on the counter, the candles and cloth napkins piled on the stacked plates ready to be set on the table. “Am I interrupting something? Are you getting ready for a date?”
“I think that’s obvious,” I ground out.
“You’re seeing someone? Is she here? Mom is going to lose her shit. She’s obsessed with the idea of you remarrying Morgan. She won’t listen to reason.”
“That’s not my problem, Sam. What do you want?”
“I was supposed to come here and drag you to the Bandit Lake house to make nice with the family, but I’m here to apologize to you.”
“For what? I don’t have time for?—”
“For a lot of things, Nick. So many things. Ivy and I are divorcing. She took the kids to her parents’ place to stay and I?—”
“I’m sorry. But?—”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about Dad lately. I’ve been going over all the mistakes I’ve made since he died and I—” He wandered back to the living room and sat down hard on my couch as a sob shook his shoulders.
I sat next to him and patted his back. “Hey, it’ll be okay.” When we were kids, I would have hugged him, but we didn’t have that kind of relationship anymore. “Divorce isn’t the end of the world. I should know, right?”
“I quit working for Phil.” Our stepfather was a decent person and we got along okay, even though our basic life philosophies didn’t quite mesh. Our mother was the real problem in the family.
I decided to take a few minutes to talk to Sam, then get rid of him.
“How did he take it?” I asked.
“He was disappointed, but he understood. Mom, on the other hand, was horrified and completely furious with me. Apparently, I’m destroying our family.”
“You know that’s not true.”
My phone went off with a text message. Clara’s name flashed on the screen before I snatched it off the coffee table.
“I have to answer this. I’m sorry.”
“Clara? Hill?” My reaction must have given something away because he went pale. “Fuck...” He breathed and dropped his face into his palms.
My eyes narrowed as I set the phone down. “Yes, Clara Hill. Why?”
