“I’m not in the business of chances or ultimatums. Not when it’s this serious. I’m not going to nag you or chase after a life I am supposed to have, or my kids are supposed to have. I’m getting the life we deserve, with or without you. You keep that promise, or I promise you, D.J. and I are out of here that day. That first whiff. As fast as this Escort Wagon can drive me.”
“I love you, J.J., and our family. So much.”
“Yeah? Words. We’ll see if you can back it up. And that’s it. I’m not going to yell at you or parent you. I love you, too. But I’m mama to that one, not you. Got it? And that’s it. We’re done talking about it. And I promise you this, too, here’s the second gift. I’m not holding this against you. It’s done.”
That was the other thing that would break them, a grudge. If she held this over his head forever, he may as well keep drinking because they’d not have any peace.
Dean took the medicine she doled.
He got out of the car and walked to his truck.
They drove to McDonald’s, mother and son. D.J. enjoyed his drive-through breakfast. And J.J. worked on fixing her attitude, on letting go of the anger she’d held tight to since she’d found out she was pregnant again.
J.J. knew it was going to be hard not to harangue Dean. But any chance they had of a happy marriage depended on both of them living up to their promises that morning in the Wagon Wheel Saloon parking lot.
Present Day
J.J. told some of the story to Libby. Libby listened.
“I know you had bumpy patches in the beginning. You said as much. Did he keep the promise?”
J.J. thought about it.
“We were married nearly thirty years. And that was the beginning. We’d have a million scenarios and promises and knock down drag-outs between then and now.”
“Gotcha.”
J.J. didn’t elaborate. There were moments when J.J. didn’t think her marriage would last. And others where it was J.J.’s attitude and actions that deserved a come to Jesus moment.
It was a life, it was decades of partnership, it was messy. But it was all gone now.
Ugh. Dean.
“Well, you did it,” J.J. conceded. “I didn’t think you could do it. But you did it. Sending D.J. a howler won’t cut it.”
“I thought you weren’t in the business of healing someone else’s addiction?”
“I said I wasn’t there to police my husband. But my son? You can bet your Ann Taylor sweater set that I’m going to harangue him.”
“So, you’re coming back to Irish Hills?” Libby enthused.
“For now. I’ve got a son to kick in the butt and a house to close on.”
“Oh, we’ll find you a new one, don’t you worry.”
“Stop, this is temporary. This is a fire I’m putting out. I’m not joining your cult of lady business-owner do-gooders. I’m still—I hate to say this—I’m in mourning. It sounds so old or something, but I’m not ready to move on. I am still firmly married to Dean Tucker even though he’s rudely decided to take his leave early.” J.J. blinked away tears. Dean should be the one kicking their son’s backside. That would be helpful right now.
“Think of it as moving forward,” Libby said gently, “not moving on, and it doesn’t mean forgetting Dean.”
“You’re selling me. Stop selling me. I’m immune.”
Libby smiled. J.J. knew it was a victory smile.
ChapterFour
J.J.
J.J. shouldn’t be scared.Why in the world am I scared?But she was. Libby drove her home, and as they approached town, she felt her stomach tighten.
