“I know, sweetheart. But I promise the alarm system is a good thing. I’ll get better at using it,” I say, holding up a finger as soon as the operator answers my call.
“Payne County Sheriff’s Office. How may I direct your call?”
I recognize the voice on the other line, which is a bit mortifying. It’s bad enough to set off a false alarm, but to have someone you knew during your awkward teenager years in charge of it is the cherry on top.
Jade Zildesky was the prom queen my grad year. And she was a genius. She had a full ride to Texas Tech, but like me, she left school early to raise kids. She got divorced last year, or so I heard through the very loud Sweetwater grapevine.
“Hi, umm . . . I had a false alarm. Is there a chance you can cancel the alert before a squad car shows up?”
“Lindsey Blackwood?”
Fuck. She recognizes my voice.
“Hey, Jade. Yep!” I let out a breathy chuckle as I start to pace around the kitchen table. “Can you help a girl out?”
I bite my nail while she tells me to hold on, and after nearly a minute, she pops back onto the line to let me know the alert was canceled.
“Bless you,” I say.
“No sweat! Hey, I didn’t realize you were back in town? Weren’t you living out in those fancy homes on the county island?”
I sure was. Felt kind of smug about it, too. Until I found out my ex snuck his girlfriend over when I wasn’t home.
“Yeah, Brandon is still there. I’m . . . here.”
There’s a long, quiet pause while Jade likely pieces together the clues, and eventually she says, “Got it.”
“It gets easier, just so you know,” she follows up.
I plop down in one of the kitchen chairs while I rock Holly’s carrier with my toe. She’s getting heavy in that thing. I think it’s time to move her into something bigger. It all happens so fast.
“That’s good to hear. Because it’s pretty damn hard right now,” I say through a soft laugh.
“I’m sorry,” Jade says.
I straighten my spine and shake my head.
“I mean, not because of the ex. Believe me, there wasnothinghard about that.” I realize after a pregnant pause that sheprobably thinks I was making a dick joke, so I laugh. She joins me, then says she understands that part, too.
We make plans to get together sometime, an idea that will probably never come to fruition but feels nice to say, then I end the call and unpack the ingredients for shepherd’s pie. Apparently, this town has been talking about my cooking skills, and Brooks has been listening. I’m actually in the mood to make something good from scratch, and it’s been a while since I’ve pulled my grandmother’s cornbread recipe out of the tin. Of course, now I need to find the tin.
I start my search for the once the groceries are all tucked I way. I want everything ready so I can cook later. I’m half buried in a cabinet when I hear the front door swing open along with the three beeps from the alarm. My heart skips, and I crack the back of my skull on the edge of the sink as I sit up.
“Ohh, that must have hurt,” Brooks says, shutting the door and punching in the code in seconds before darting into the kitchen to inspect the back of my head.
“I think I’m fine,” I say. Meanwhile, he cradles my head as if it’s a priceless Fabergé egg.
I swivel my neck to meet his eyes, and when his gaze hits mine, it’s quickly followed by his perfect smile.
“Hi.” He leans into me, but I flinch, moving back and banging my head on the cabinet’s edge.
“Ohh, you need to leave this room. He helps me to my feet.
“The boys are washing their hands. We can’t . . .” I shake my head, and he grimaces but nods.
I hate the rules, too. It would be so much easier if we could just act like a couple all the time. But there are too many things at risk, and too many people with opinions I don’t want to hear.
“Fair warning. The boys have decided they want to play tee ball in the fall. And they would like you to coach,” I say to him on my way back to the chair I pulled out from the table earlier. Isit down and begin pulling my things together for my mediation meeting with Brandon. We’ve completed two sessions of co-parenting class, in which I learned how challenging it’s going to be to co-parent with a narcissist. This afternoon, we hash out our differences in the parenting plan each of us submitted. The distance Brandon and I are apart with our ideas is canyon-esque.
