“Fun times ahead.” Brad raises his bottle in a salute.
“For sure.”
“So, what’s up with Cathal?”
“He’s intellectually gifted, or so the psychologist says. It’s why he’s been increasingly frustrated at school. He’s way ahead of all his classmates and finding it hard to relate to them. The coursework is not stimulating enough, and he’s full of this restless energy that has nowhere to go.” I wouldn’t ordinarily say this to people, because I’m sure it would come off as bragging, but Brad is family, and I can tell him anything. “He can explain the inner workings of a motorcycle, in minute detail, if you ask. He knows the name of every solar system, and he can give you an explicit biography of every character in the Artemis Fowl series in alphabetical order. He absorbs information. Soaks it up like a sponge.”
“I’m not surprised to hear that. I remember how amazing his vocabulary was at two, and at three, you could hold an intelligent conversation with him. He always has his nose in a book, and it’s clear he observes the world around him and retains the information. It makes sense when you think about it.”
A pregnant pause descends, shattered in seconds by shrieks and giggles from the pool. “I can’t imagine what it must be like to have a brain that is constantly spinning and craving knowledge,” I say. “It’s no wonder he’s been lashing out and frustrated.”
“What can you do?”
“We have to adapt how we treat him, in subtle ways. We want to encourage and support his development while still ensuring he has boundaries. We’re talking to the school about moving him up a grade or two, and I’m trying to convince Faye to let him join our local motocross team, but she’s worried about the risks.”
“It’s not an easy sport to embrace, but you were a natural, and he’s clearly interested.”
“That doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll be any good. He hasn’t shown a prowess for any sport so far. He freaking sucks at Little League, but I can’t fault his determination to better himself. Maybe he won’t enjoy motocross, but he deserves the opportunity to at least try.”
“Faye will come around. She lives for those kids.”
“She does, and I know she will. I’m going to take her to the track one Saturday so she can see what’s involved. I know the guy who owns the place—I used to race against him—and he manages the junior team. I’m hoping to grab him for a quick talk. I think he’ll help to set Faye’s mind at ease.”
“How are things with you two?” Removing his glasses, he rubs the bridge of his nose.
“Great. Couldn’t be better. Faye has decided to give up work and spend time at home with the kids. I think that’s going to make a huge difference in our lives.”
“That’s awesome, man. Maybe you can cut back on some of that crazy overtime you’ve been doing.”
“That’s not the norm. We have been busier than usual, thanks to the enhanced visibility from the award. But I hired a couple of extra people, and I have a solid team. I spoke to Sel last week about doing more remote working from home, and she was all for it. It means we can escape to the cabin or the beach house for long weekends or during school breaks.”
Brad sighs. “I’m envious. That sounds amazing.”
“What aren’t you saying?” I ask, eyeballing him.
He swallows hard, taking a long swig of his beer, before facing me with troubled eyes. “I’m worried about my marriage. Honestly, if something doesn’t change, I’m not sure we’re gonna make it.”
7
BRAD
Anguish is a heavy layer coating the back of my throat as I put a voice to my fears. Kyler won’t judge, and I need to confide in someone. But we can’t have this conversation in earshot of the kids when the women could return at any second. So, I ask my buddy to park it until later.
“I was thinking we could ask the guys to sleep over,” I tell my wife as I’m removing meat from the refrigerator later. “I know you want to have your girl time with Faye, and Ky and I were thinking of heading out for a few beers.”
“That sounds like a plan,” Rachel says, sidestepping me as she reaches for the salad ingredients.
“I’ll mention it to Ky outside.”
“Okay.” Rach closes the fridge with one hip, waves of glossy dark hair tumbling around her face. After years of wearing her hair red, she returned to her natural dark-brown roots at the start of the summer. The day before we were due to fly to Ireland for the awards ceremony, she returned home having chopped her long locks in half. Now, her hair sits just below her chin, and she has never looked more gorgeous or seemed more out of my reach.
“What?” she asks, and I realize I’ve just been standing here staring at her.
“You look beautiful.” I cup one side of her face. “I love your hair like this, and your dress is pretty.”
“It’s from my new summer line,” she supplies. “You know I love to test every item myself. This is one of my favorites. I love the simplicity of the design and how comfortable it is.”
It’s a basic white summer dress with thin straps and a scalloped lace hem, but I can tell the material is high quality and the cut is exquisite. It helps that my gorgeous wife has a body to die for. She could wear a sack and make it look good. On the average woman, this dress would probably look plain. Rachel elevates it to something special. “I’m betting it’s a best seller.”
