“The usual stuff will do just fine. Thank you.”
I pick up a basket that’s definitely seen better days, and fill it with bread, bacon, eggs, a pack of granola bars, some boxes of mac-and-cheese, and a box of frozen hamburger patties along with the fixings to go along with them. I pull a case of beer from the cooler and make my way back to the counter.
Bart, I assume, snickers as he rings me up on a cash register that may be older than he is. “Looks like you’re ready for a good ol’ bachelor weekend.” He narrows his eyes. “Kind of early in the season for any good fishing though.”
“I’m not here to fish.”
He narrows his eyes. “You come up here to write a book or something?”
I snort. “Not writing a book. Just needed to get away.”
“Ahhh.” He nods. “Gal trouble. I get it. Had some of that back in my day.” He points to a picture of a woman on the wall. “Gerty done left this earth thirteen years ago. But, Lord could we get on each other’s last nerve.” He laughs. “Makin’ up, that’s the fun part. Just don’t stay away so long that makin’ up is off the table.”
“Your wife was very beautiful,” I say politely.
He laughs like a man who’s a two-pack-a-day smoker. “Didn’t never marry. If I had, she’d have been the one. But a guy like me wasn’t never marriage material.” He knocks a fist on his skull. “Serving overseas when I was young messed me up in a bad way. Wasn’t about to put that on anyone, ya know?”
He puts my food into a large paper bag and slides it across the counter.
“Thanks, Bart, is it?”
He cackles. “Bart was my daddy.” He slaps the counter. “Built this place with his own two hands back in nineteen forty-five, right after he got back from the war.” He holds out a hand. “Name’s Butch.”
“Trevor.” I shake.
“Didn’t have the heart to change the name.” He looks back at the photo. “And since I got no one to hand it down to, I’ll be running this place until I got both feet in the grave. Hell, I got nothin’ better to do. Don’t have no one or nothin’ save a few other old-timers who come by for a game of backgammon on occasion.” He cocks his head. “You got any ankle biters?”
Instinctively, I shake my head, even though something inside me knows it’s wrong. Because Idohave a kid. Or I will in about six months.
“You still got time, by the look of things. I tell you, there ain’t nothing better than the thought of handing something down to your own kin. Between you and me, I was always hoping for a son to run this place. Alas, it just wasn’t in the cards for me.”
He picks up an ancient remote control and aims it at an old, small, boxy television on the counter behind him. “‘Bout time forWheel of Fortune. Good to meet you, Trevor. If you still find yourself with gal trouble come next week, Tuesday is when I get most of my deliveries. Fresh fruit and veggies. Even a small selection of steak.”
I pick up the bag and the case of beer. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Back outside, I load my purchases in the trunk.Gal trouble.If only that was the extent of it. If we’d just had a fight over something stupid I’d done or some frivolous purchase she’d made. This goes far beyond the reaches of normal girl trouble.
She got pregnant without telling me. Using money she secretly borrowed against a business Chuck and Dawn leftme. Okay, so they left it to both of us. But still, who the fuck does that? It tells me more about our relationship than any photo albums could. Did she controleverything?The business. Our finances.Me?
Was I just some shmuck in love who went along with everything she did? Or maybe it was just her way of getting back at a man who chose his career over her.
Those questions burn in my head as I approach the fishing cabin. I park in the gravel driveway off to the right, happy to see a charcoal grill out front.Hmm. I might have to go back for charcoal and lighter fluid if they don’t have any lying around.
Then I slip the key into the lock and walk into what I can only describe as the best bachelor pad I could envision. I have to laugh as I look around the place. Fishing poles line the walls. Various knives are secured on a magnetized strip by the stove. There’s a pair of antlers attached to one wall. On another, a large fish is mounted on a backboard. I’m sure the damn thing would wiggle and sing if I pushed the button below it.
There’s one small bedroom. One tiny bathroom. A couch that I surmise turns into a bed, and a blow-up mattress that’s sagging in the corner, almost out of air.
A four-seat dining table sits near a wall of cabinets. The appliances look as old as Butch, but when I open the refrigerator I’m happy to see the light come on. And it’s partially full with things like butter, sauces, sodas, and bricks of cheese—all things I neglected to pick up at Bart’s.
A smile crosses my face when I go through the cabinets and find enough liquor to serve a small army. Finally, after a long day, I find a rocks glass, fill it with a more than generous pour of Buffalo Trace, and retire to the porch to watch the sun set over the lake.
It’s hard to enjoy anything, however, when I think of the colossal mess my life has become.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Ava
Icontemplated not even coming tonight. Socializing with friends is not exactly what I want to be doing when my life is in shambles. But when I come around the corner of the building and see Regan, Maddie, and Amber all sitting at our picnic table, each with a stroller by their side, I know I made the right decision. This is my tribe. The women who will be there for me if Trevor won’t. The ones who will arrange playdates, give me advice, tips, and parenting strategies.
