Page 121 of This Time Around
“I’ll get it!” she yelled, halfway to the door before Jack had a chance to finish chewing his too-large bite of mac and cheese. He wasn’t expecting company, and his stomach did a stupid flip at the thought that it could be Allie.
But that seemed impossible. He’d put up the birdhouse four days ago, sneaking over when he knew she’d be at work and Skye had class. For the first couple days, he’d waited. Allie wasn’t the most observant person in the world, so maybe she needed time to notice.
But after four days, it seemed clear she was still angry. Angry or hurt, probably both. She had every right to be. She’d spilled her guts and he’d shot her down. She’d shown him how to see the best in things, and he’d insisted on pointing out the worst. She’d tried to reach out to him and he’d ignored her like a big, grudge-holding ass. Was a birdhouse really going to fix all that?”
“Daddy?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“There’s no one at the door, but there’s an envelope with your name on it.”
“Can you bring it here?”
She trotted across the living room and deposited it on the table in front of him. Goosebumps pebbled his arms the second he saw his name scrawled on the pink paper in Allie’s swoopy, cursive script.
“What is it?” Paige asked.
“I’m not sure.” He grabbed his butter knife and slit it open, heart thudding in his ears. A single piece of paper fell into his lap. Jack picked it up with fingers that felt numb and useless.
“What does it say?” Paige leaned close, and Jack angled the card away from her to shield the words. He didn’t know what to expect, what he might have to explain to Paige after all this. He needed to see the message for himself first.
But as he took in the words, a slow smile spread over his face. He read them twice, just to enjoy the lovely lilt of her cursive across the pale pink paper.
“I’m super thankful,” he read aloud. “Go look in the tank(ful).”
Paige frowned. “What does that mean? Like a fish tank? We don’t have a fish tank.”
Jack stood up. His heart raced, with his brain just a few steps behind. Tank? Like a piece of military equipment? Tank top? Toilet tank? She wouldn’t have risked sneaking into the house for a treasure hunt, so it had to be something outside?—
“Gas tank,” he said, and hurried out the front door.
Sure enough, there was another small envelope taped to the inside of the fuel door covering his car’s gas tank. This one was white with little roses along the top and his name was scrawled in the same loopy script across the front. He yanked it off and ripped it open faster this time, tearing the corner of a rose-flecked card.
“‘You’re pretty adorable,’” he read. “‘Go look by the doorbell.’”
Paige cocked her head to the side and leaned over his elbow to read the words for herself. “I’m not sure that really rhymes,” she said, but Jack was already running back toward the front porch.
He spotted the pale yellow envelope tucked up under a shingle, which is probably why he hadn’t seen it before. He snatched it with shaking hands and tore it open to read the words aloud.
“‘I love you still. So damn much, Jack. Go look in the rosebush.’”
“That really doesn’t rhyme,” Paige said. “She could have tried windowsill.”
A familiar laugh rang out from the edge of the house, and Jack looked up to see Allie stepping out from behind the rosebush. She wore a green sundress and a killer smile. Her hair fell loose around her shoulders, and the setting sun made a halo behind her.
“I could have used you an hour ago, Paige.” She smiled at his daughter, then slid her gaze to Jack’s. He felt the full force of it deep in his gut. “I’m not much of a poet, as you may recall.”
“It’s perfect,” he said, hardly daring to move. He couldn’t believe she was standing here in front of his house looking pale and nervous and so damn beautiful he couldn’t breathe. “You’re perfect.”
Her laugh was sharper this time. “Definitely not. But at least I can admit that. I can admit it and work on it and try to do better each time.”
“I can do that, too,” he said, taking a step toward her. “I’m sorry, Allie.”
“So am I.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t recognize that people need to handle things in their own way,” he said. “That there’s a time for the coldest, hardest, truest version of a story, and a time a for the one that just lets you get up in the morning and put your clothes on and brush your teeth and go about your day until you can deal with the other version.”
Allie shook her head, and he watched her throat move as she swallowed. “I’m sorry, too,” she murmured, tears glittering in her eyes. “For a lot of things. But mostly for not trusting you with the truth. For not trusting myself with it. I’ve been working on that.”
