Page 61 of Single Mom's Guide to Love

But don’t, because you’ll get crumbs everywhere and I just mopped.

I had heard about stress cleaning, but I didn’t think it was a thing. Then again, I’d never been stressed so much that I was pushed to the brink of deep-cleaning my house.

I’d like to blame this on my ex, his new wife, and the man I’m working for. They all have a role in CleanFest.

Usually when I get nervous, or worried, or want to focus on something else, I work. The only problem is that work for me right now is Logan, and after our Thanksgiving together, I thought it was best if we put some space between us.

So that meant I was stuck in my house all weekend. I booked a few jobs for after I’m done with Logan’s house, one in a suburb of Florida and one in Raleigh. I double-checked that everything for Logan’s that needed to be ordered was in fact placed anden route. I organized my inbox, updated my website, and went through a ton of old photos that were just taking space on my computer.

All of that took six hours.

Hence began the deep clean of my house. And it worked as well as it could've. I’ve been away from Jayce for extended periods of time, and farther distances. But in those cases, I knew who he was with and the caretaking was under my control. Now my son is with his father, whom I do trust, and his new stepmother, who I don’t trust to tie his shoe.

She’s the reason my baseboards are spotless.

I check the clock again to see that it’s 7:45p.m. Josh promised me they’d be home at eight so Jayce wasn’t getting to bed too late, since it is a school night. And because of the long weekend, he was going to forfeit his Monday, which was a nice move on his part.

As I’m looking for one more thing to organize or tidy up to get through the next fifteen minutes, my angel of a sister calls me.

A phone call with Quinn is the perfect distraction.

“You make it home?” I ask when I pick up, knowing Quinn’s flight back to Arizona should’ve landed about an hour ago.

“Just sat down,” she said. “They back yet?”

I check the driveway again to see if they magically pulled in over the last fifteen seconds. “No. Any minute now.”

After sliding in the tidbit of information on Thanksgiving night that Josh and Vivian got married, I gave my family the debrief at our Thanksgiving dinner, away from Jayce of course. Jaws were on the floor. Foul language was used. Theories were drawn up as to why this marriage was suddenly happening. Those ranged from they actually loved each other to one of them needed to get married in order to accept an inheritance.

And I swear, if Josh has a secret inheritance I didn’t know about, and I paid him alimony for the first three years of our divorce, we’re going to have words. And a court date.

“I still don’t get it,” Quinn says. “From the little you’ve told me about Vivian, and the Instagram stalking that Stella did, she doesn’t seem like the kind of woman who wants to elope because she just loves Josh so much. This woman screams "I want a big, showy wedding!”

“I was shocked too,” I say. “But hey, maybe they’re just two soulmates and couldn’t bear to spend another day without being legally bonded together for life?”

It only takes a second for the two of us to bust up in a fit of laughter.

“Oh, that was good,” Quinn says. “Your humor doesn’t get enough credit in the family.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should. Especially since I’ve always been the funny sister.”

I know why she says that, and I know why she thinks it, but I wish Quinn knew that she was so much more than just the funny Banks sibling. Then again, she’s the true middle child of the five of us, so using humor, and sometimes pushing that humor over the line, is on brand.

“So when do we get to see you again?” I ask.

Since Quinn moved to Arizona after college, she’s made it a habit to only come back a few times a year. Mostly for holidays. A few unexpected trips. And we understand. It’s a long flight, it’s not cheap, and she has a life out there that she’s made for herself. And when it comes to the holidays, if she’s home for Thanksgiving, then she’s not making it in for Christmas, or vice versa. Which means it could be another year until I see my sister.

“Little over three weeks, silly,” she says. “I’ll be home for Christmas.”

“Really? You’re coming home again?”

“Yeah? Why not?”

“Because you never have.”

“Oh,” she says, and am I catching Quinn Banks actually searching for an answer? This is new territory. “I just thought it would be nice. You know, Lainey’s first Christmas and all.”

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