Brett grins. “That’s great advice for softball. Probably not so great for ending a marriage.”
“So you think I should try to patch things up with Zack?”
“I’m not saying that. I just think that you owe it to yourselves and your marriage—or at least to the memory you’ll have of your marriage in the future—to sit down face-to-face and talk. You’ll never regret having an honest conversation, but you might regret not having one.”
His words resonate deep inside, in the place I recognizeunwanted truths—a place I’ve ignored for too long. “Peace of mind and closure sound pretty good,” I say.
“You only get those by living out your values.”
Hell—my values have been centered on achievements and milestones, on trying to look and feel successful. I’ve been so focused on pushing toward the next goal, and then the next, that I haven’t seriously considered what success really means.
Whataremy values? Underneath all the external stuff, what really matters? What kind of person, deep down, do I want to be?
Someone who treats others the way I want to be treated, I realize. Someone who follows the Golden Rule.
I mentally apply it to my situation with Zack, and my spirits plummet still further. If the shoe were on the other foot, I would have hated being served divorce papers at work without any real notice. Chagrin spreads through me.
Values. What a damned inconvenient thing to learn at this point in my life!
“Hell,” I mutter. “I think you might be right.”
“Of course I am.”
“How did you get so smart?”
“Oh, I’ve always been the guy with all the answers.” He gives a self-deprecating grin. “If you don’t believe me, just ask Sue Anne.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
Quinn
Monday, July 8
IS DADDY COMINGover tonight?” Lily asks as soon as I pick her and Alicia up at preschool. It’s a question she asks every day.
“As a matter of fact, he is. He’s going to grill us dinner.”
“Hamburgers?” she asks, her face hopeful.
“Nope. Chicken, corn on the cob, and zucchini.”
“Yay!” Lily says. “Sounds yummy!”
I grin. I could tell her Zack is fixing snake innards and wombat gizzards and she’d probably be thrilled. Lily has rapidly turned into a real Daddy’s girl.
I worry a little about it. Zack and I have still never addressed the question of how often he should see Lily; instead, we’ve fallen into a pattern where it almost feels like we’re playing house. Ever since he moved into Brooke’s home last week, he calls every day to check on us and comes by nearly as often. He plays with Lily outside and gives me time to rest, because pregnancy fatigue hits me hard in the early evening. He entertains Lily with yo-yo tricks and is teaching her the basics on a toddler-friendly yo-yo, which no doubt makes Brooke smile in heaven. He usually eats dinner with us; sometimes, like tonight, he cooks.
He helps out around the house, too. He runs errands and sweeps the kitchen, and last weekend he replaced the glass-paneled French doors in the downstairs office with solid wood ones to turn it into a bedroom for Margaret.
He’s become such a regular part of our lives that Lily remarkson his absence when he’s not there to tuck her in bed. The other night when Zack was on one side of her and I was on the other, she said, “I love it when you’re here, Daddy, because I like being Lucky Pierre.”
I thought Zack would fall off the bed. “Where on earth did you hear that?”
“From a boy at school. He said it’s what his daddy calls someone in the middle.”
“Oh. I see.” He tried hard not to laugh and failed. His attempt to hide it by pretending to cough made me laugh, which made him laugh harder, which made Ruffles start barking. Lily laughed, too, although she had no idea what was funny.
The more time Lily and I spend with Zack, the more attached we’re both becoming to him. I’m concerned that Lily is getting too accustomed to his frequent visits.
