I sigh and rub my forehead. “Look, I thought about your idea?—”
She holds a hand up. “Never mind. Forget I even asked. It was stupid of me to think you would help.”
Another butt end in the solar plexus.
“I understand,” she goes on. “Now you have a new girlfriend, you don’t want to hang out with my family. I totally get it. That would be weird for her.”
New girlfriend? Oh right. Emma. Who I’m having dinner with tomorrow. Not exactly a girlfriend, and she definitely has nothing to do with decisions I make about anything.
But Ayla thinks that’s why I’m not going to pretend we’re still married.
“She has nothing to do with this,” I say. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to lie to your family.”
“That’s me,” she says lightly. “Full of bad ideas.”
My jaw clenches. “That’s not what I meant.”
“No, it’s fine! I know you think you know best about everything, including me.”
I stare at her for several long beats, then say, “What?”
She rolls her eyes. “You heard me. Think about it. You’ve always criticized me and judged me. You need to accept people as they are and respect their boundaries.”
My eyebrows pull down as I continue to gaze at her, baffled. Boundaries? Respect? What? “What are you talking about?”
“You think you know best for everyone,” she says. “You impose your own agenda on people. You want them to do what you think they should do.”
Okay, she’s getting worked up. I shift uncomfortably on my stool. Yes, I like to solve problems and fix things. But it’s not about imposing an “agenda”.
“Calm down, Ayla.”
Oh shit. I know as soon as the words leave my mouth the mistake I’ve made.
She gasps. Her eyes fly open wide. “Oh my God. Seriously? Calm down? I’m expressing myself! Telling you how I feel! You’re brushing me off like I’m hysterical or something!”
I close my eyes. “No. That’s not what I meant. I’m sorry.”
Fuck.This is what was happening all the time. This is why we separated. I wanted to fix things. She wanted to… not fix things. We didn’t understand each other. “You weren’t telling me how you feel,” I attempt to clarify. “You were telling me what an asshole I am.”
Her eyes widen again. “Thatishow I feel! I feel like you’re an asshole!”
I almost laugh out loud. I mean, I don’t like being called an asshole, but the way she says it is funny, and for a moment, I think she’s going to laugh, too.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have called you that.”
I sigh. “Where is this shindig happening?”
Looking wary, she says, “Hawkwood Lodge. In the Catskills.”
“Okay. That’s about a hundred miles from here?”
“Yeah.”
I played a few seasons in Binghamton, New York for the Storm’s farm team, and that’s not far from the Catskills.
“It’s a beautiful place,” she adds with growing enthusiasm. “There’s a lot to do. The kids will love it, and adults, too. There’s skiing and skating, snowshoeing, tobogganing. Apparently, there’s an outdoor heated pool and a hot tub. And a spa.”
“Are you gonna get Nonna on the toboggan run?”
