Page 102 of Lost in Love
He laughs and lets go of my hand. With his eyes on the road, I stare at his profile and the way the side of his face glows from the dashboard lights. “I did fall off the bed of Justice’s truck at the cemetery. Maybe I bruised my brain in the process.”
I swallow slowly. “The cemetery?”
His breath catches. “Yeah.”
“You went?”
He nods, leaving it at that.
My heart races with my thoughts. I’m hurt that he went without me, that he couldn’t do it with his family, but went with Justice. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why’d you go with him but you couldn’t with us?”
For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. Maybe he’s thinking about his answer, or maybe he honestly doesn’t know. I’m surprised by the crack in his voice and the tremble that follows when he says, “I couldn’t be there with you.”
I gasp, tears surfacing. “Why?”
His jaw tightens, as does his grip on the steering wheel. He shifts his weight in the seat, leaning toward me. “It’s nothing against you, honey. I just… I couldn’t even… I didn’t know how to deal with it. It scared me, seeing her grave, because it was a reality. She’s there and not with us. That’s why I avoided it for so long.” He looks over at me, his eyes glossy. “I couldn’t do it with you because I knew you would cry and I didn’t want to look in your eyes again and not be able to bring her back.” He’s crying, I’m crying, and I hate that every single conversation lately ends like this.
Nodding, I look out the window, my vision blurred by the tears falling.
He reaches for my hand again. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
I squeeze his hand in reassurance. “It’s okay. You did what you needed to do. I’m just glad you went to see her before we left again.”
“I’m glad I did.”
* * *
By four in the morning,the kids are wide awake and starving. And also, annoying the fuck out of us with their singing and constant need to ask where we are and how much longer. The singing is the worst.
Noah doesn’t seem pleased their eyes are open. “Why are they awake so early?”
“We are driving. The road noise probably woke them up.”
“I hungry!” Sevi yells from the back, kicking Oliver’s seat. “Let’s eat pantakes.”
“Pantakes?” Noah mouths, shaking his head. “Does he mean pancakes?”
I nod, smiling. “He does.”
“Tits!” Fin yells next, and we all crack up laughing. She has one word mastered and uses it for everything.
We stop for breakfast but the only place open that early is McDonald’s. Noah has the bright idea to let the kids eat in the car. Kids eating in cars never ends well. You tell them, “be careful,” and “don’t spill that,” and they do. Every single time. So the floor of my SUV has orange juice, pieces of sausage, and probably enough syrup to fill an entire bottle back up.
“It’s a good thing I know a mechanic. Maybe he can detail my car for me.”
“Or we trade it in,” he says around a mouthful of sausage McMuffin. “These are the kinds of trips where you just take it to the dealership and ask for the ‘as is’ price.”
“I swear if you don’t stop, I’m going to choke you!” Oliver screams at Hazel while she continues her never-ending version of “Baby Shark” that she’s now modified to “Baby Cat” and “Baby Bird.” Really, anything with a baby is made into a song.
I whip my head around, pointing a finger at my son. “Oliver, knock it off. Don’t threaten her.”
He keeps his hands pressed to his ears, glaring at me. “Make her stop!”
Beside me, Noah groans. “Who thought that song would be a good idea?”
