Merritt shut her laptop without clicking it. She would not be writing tonight after all.
Chapter Twenty-Five
That Sunday morning, Whit was doing a rare thing: he was still in bed, with a book. He had spent the day before with his sister, brother-in-law, and daughter, visiting a pumpkin patch before it closed for the season and then watching both of the goodHome Alones. He and Merritt had texted intermittently, but she was busy most of the day helping her mom do yard and housework. In the evening, he and Evie had planned the following day—it would be her last morning with them, and so she would wake up early and make Annie breakfast. Now Annie and Édouard were playing one last round of his card game while Evie finished packing her things. Meaning Whit could have a slow morning for once, in his pajamas with coffee and a book.
Evie came in and leaned against his dresser.
“I need something to read for my flight.”
Whit told her to check his study, and she was back in a few minutes with a stack. She set them on the dresser and gestured to them like aPrice Is Rightmodel.
“Which one will I like?”
Evie did this often, deferring to Whit’s judgment on books just as he often deferred to her judgment on clothes and TV shows and, back when he and Helen traveled, places worth visiting. He always loved being asked about books. He could almost physically feel something click into life in his brain as he leaned forward to examine the stack more closely—until he saw the one at the bottom.
Serious Games.He’d totally forgotten buying it. The momentthey had returned from picking up Annie at school on the day of Evie’s arrival, he’d quickly stowed these books on the large shelf in his study.
“Um,” he said through the sudden throbbing in his neck.
Evie seemed to clock his gaze and turned back to the books, misreading his apprehensions.
“Some of these were still in a shopping bag—do you want to hold on to them? I can just get one at the airport—”
“Don’t,” Whit said, shaking himself into normalcy. “They’re always so picked over. Sorry, I just forgot I had those. Take whatever you want.”
“Okay,” she said, clearly choosing not to press Whit on his strange reaction. Then he watched in mild horror as she drew her finger down the stack of spines to land on the one with a royal blue cover.
He thought about stopping her. But then he’d have to explain. And anyway, it’d be good to be rid of it.
“Is this one okay?” Evie asked, understandably hesitant.
“That’s great, yeah,” he said, too eagerly. “I hope you like it.”
There were many tears at lunchtime as Annie said goodbye to Evie and Édouard, hugging them both and crying into their shirts. Evie was never the type to get emotional, but her husband certainly was, and she and Whit exchanged several pained, slightly impatient glances as a kneeling Édouard held both of Annie’s hands and cried through utterances of “ma puce” and “mon petit chou.” Finally, they were out the door, dropping off Annie at her friend Liza’s on their way to the airport.
Once they were parked in the departures lane, Édouard went in first to begin checking their bags, while Evie lingered with Whit on the sidewalk.
Whit took a deep breath, leaning on the still-open passenger door.
“Well. Thank you.”
Evie shrugged. “Anytime.”
“No, seriously. Sincerely. Thank you. You helped get me out of my rut, and Annie loved having you here. And you cleaned the house and hosted Thanksgiving and picked Annie up from school, and a million other things I can’t ever repay you for.”
Evie paused from pretending to wave to an applauding crowd in order to offer him a judgmental glare.
“Siblings don’trepayeach other.”
“Some do. Probably.”
“Well, not us. And anyway, I’m not so sure I’m the one who got you out of that rut.”
Whit looked at the oncoming cars and remained silent.
“No, seriously,” she said. “Don’t mess it up, okay?”
He shrugged dramatically.
