“Yep,” she replies.
“I’ve never flown in a private jet before. Looking forward to it.”
Elizabeth narrows her eyes at me before replying, “I’ll walk you out.”
Taking my glass with me, I head into the kitchen. “If you glare any harder at that piece of paper, it’s going to spontaneously combust.”
Charlotte slumps forward in her stool and makes a frustrated growl. “I’ve been staring at this freaking word problem for a half hour. I hate calculus.”
She’s taking calculus in the tenth grade? Smart, just like her mother.
Coming around the counter island, I sit down and slide the worksheet over. “The trick to word problems is to break them down into steps. Underline the information you need to solve the problem and cross out the stuff that doesn’t matter. Drawing pictures also helps.” I borrow her pen and do a rough sketch. “If Laura is driving down a road, and it becomes impassable at point A…”
I don’t give her the answer, just prompt her with questions she has to figure out on her own in order to work through the problem.
Biting the tip of her tongue, she starts scribbling letters, brackets, and formulas on the sketch. “So I need to use the distance formula to find out how far she travels from point A to B if her walking speed is four miles per hour, then plug that into the time function if she jogsxmiles at five miles per hour from points B to C.” When she’s done, she looks up at me expectantly. “Did I get it right?”
I bump her shoulder. “Yep.”
“Yes!” She does a happy shimmy in her seat and fist pumps the air. “Thanks so much!”
Slight movement in my peripheral draws my attention. Elizabeth is leaning against the jamb, watching from the entryway.
She crooks her finger at me. “Can I speak with you, please?”
“Uh-oh. She’s using her ‘mom’ voice,” Charlotte whispers.
“Is that good or bad?” I whisper back.
“It usually means you’re in trouble.”
About Jay or the jet? Regardless of which one it is, I just want whatever argument we’re going to have to be over with quickly so I can spend the rest of the night with her, preferably in bed.
“Wish me luck.” I lightly ruffle Charlotte’s hair.
She crosses her fingers. “Good luck.”
Elizabeth is quiet as I follow her down the hall and into the bedroom. Once inside, she closes the door and engages the lock. Turning around, she stands motionless and looks at me, but I can’t get a read on her mood.
“If this is about the jet?—”
“It’s not about the jet.”
“Or Jay.”
“It’s not about Jayson.” She walks into the closet and comes back out, holding something I hadn’t wanted her to find yet. The letters. “I find it infuriating how I keep finding hidden letters everywhere in this house.”
Well, shit.
I hate the tears I see gathering in her eyes. “Elizabeth?—”
“Shut up,” she snaps and sets the small chest down on the chair.
Facing me, she looks at me in a way she has never looked at me before. It’s a look I have no clue how to decipher, but the emotion behind it almost brings me to my knees.
“Kitten, please?—”
But that’s all I have a chance to say before she brings my world to a crashing halt.
