Page 37 of With a Cherry On Top

“Isn’t it?”

“Of course not.” His voice is steady, certain. “Divorce doesn’t make you drink. Unhappiness doesn’t make you drink. Alcoholism does.”

“But she might have never developed a problem if?—”

“If she’d never been unhappy?” he offers before a grimace. “Maybe not. But that’s a part of life, Aaron. It’s not something you can control.” He fidgets with the beer label. “You know, toward the end of our relationship, when it was mostly fights...I remember her partying a lot. I was never really concerned—at that age, everyone drank—but now...it makes me think.”

I drum my fingers against the table. At least this got Logan talking a little more than usual. I should try to push him while I have the chance, right?

“Logan, look. Can we?—”

“You been by Mom’s lately?” he cuts me off, looking away uncomfortably.

I pause. “Yeah. Last week. Why?”

“She came with us to the girls’ pediatrician appointment yesterday, and...” He shrugs. “She seemed off, I guess.”

“Off how?”

Another shrug, but this one is tighter, less casual. “I don’t know. She went to put on her cardigan and was taking forever. When I went to check on her, she was...there. Staring down at it. She almost looked confused, or...I don’t know. Then she got weird about it, like she didn’t want me making a thing of it. Said she was tired.”

Confused? Mom?

Mom’s never been confused a day in her life.

“Maybe she was distracted, or...” I wave a hand around. “Worried about the appointment.”

He nods, though he doesn’t look convinced. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”

Sure I’m right. If Mom wasn’t fine, she would tell us.

But now that he’s brought it up...there was that tremor in her hands. I didn’t get the chance to ask, but Darren mentioned she kept dropping kitchen utensils. Does that count as confusion?

He studies me for a moment, then says, “To answer your question—no, I don’t wonder. I’m much happier with Primrose than I ever was with Josie. So I don’t wonder—ever.”

I raise my water in mock salute. “Glad to be of service then.”

His lips twitch, but his gaze doesn’t waver. “What I mean is...” He pulls his beer closer, fingers tracing the condensation. “Maybe there’s a woman out there who you’ll be happier with than you were with Josie. Who’ll make you stop wondering and silence all those questions. A woman who’ll consume your mind.”

I swallow, my throat suddenly dry.

A particular freckled face flashes before my eyes. The face of a stranger, but one who for some reasonisconsuming my mind.

One who has no business being there.

CHAPTER 8

Duck Confits and Ego Trips

By the time I close Sadie’s door for the fifth time tonight, my whole body feels heavy with exhaustion. It’s nearly two a.m., and I should get some sleep. Instead, I find myself grabbing my laptop and migrating to the bedroom.

The house is quiet, save for the muted hum of the occasional car passing by. I settle onto the bed and open the laptop, the dark screen waiting.

I shouldn’t. Ireallyshouldn’t. But I tap the trackpad, heartbeat quickening.

The screen flickers to life and my fingers hover over the keyboard, hesitation curling in my gut. My inbox is full of unread emails, including one from Ian that Ishouldanswer.

I don’t.

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