Page 60 of The Weekend Crashers
Belinda doesn’t know what to say. They’re so far apart on this issue, it scares her.
He reaches for her hand, enclosing it in both of his own. Their eyes meet across the table, and she wants to find reassurance in their connection. She tries. He pulls one hand free and then the other, and he looks something up on his phone. He turns to show her the screen. It’s a brownstone in Center City.
“Look at this beauty. Our retirement.”
She doesn’t want to retire. And she doesn’t understand why, after all this time, he wants to go back to Philadelphia. It had been a huge adjustment to leave all those years ago, and under painful circumstances. She convinced herself, long before it was true, that country living suited her. And now it did. And what—he’s changed his mind? He wants to walk away from everything they’ve built together for the past three decades. But what choice does she have? Either she leaves the inn, or she leaves her marriage.
And she decided long ago that she’s never leaving her marriage.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The sun set and the temperature fell along with it. But it’s still a beautiful night under the stars, with a three-quarter moon shining in a cloudless sky.
The campout, a late addition to the weekend itinerary, was Barclay’s idea—a nostalgic nod to all the times he’d taken Cole and Scott camping when they were kids. Making it doubly disappointing that Cole bailed out.
Aidan still hasn’t told the rest of the group, hoping Cole will change his mind. Maggie was right: They couldn’t indulge Cole’s bad mood. Time to lead by example.
He also hasn’t yet told the guys that the ladies are joining them. Maybe he’ll get shit for it, but ultimately, he doesn’t care. Maggie and Piper have been a little silver lining in what otherwise has a been a disappointing weekend.
“So where’s my grandson?” Barclay says.
Barclay insisted on helping Aidan pitch the tent. It’s sturdy, high-quality, and essentially idiotproof. Aidan can manage himself, but with Cole missing, he’s the only one not paired up.
“He’ll be here later,” Aidan says. “Probably.”
“What do you mean, probably?”
Aidan hesitates before saying, “You know he and Scott aren’t getting along.”
“Well, you need to put a stop to that.”
“They’re adults, Dad.”
It’s a good time to tell him about Maggie and Piper—to change the subject. He does, and Barclay raises an eyebrow.
“Something going on that I should know about?” His tone is light, teasing. But it makes Aidan uncomfortable.
“Wasn’t my idea,” he grumbles.
“Pretty little lady, that Piper,” he says. “I’m glad to see Cole moving on to greener pastures.”
“They’re just friends.”
“Friends that go camping on a Saturday night,” Barclay deadpans.
Maggie appears, lugging a suitcase and wearing impractical footwear—black leather boots with a heel. She’s bundled in a faux-fur coat and a thick knit cap with a pom-pom on top. It’s chilly out, but not that chilly.
“We’re not sleeping out in the elements,” Barclay says. “These tents are insulated.”
“Hello to you too, Barclay,” she says, unruffled. Her dark hair peeks out from the cap, framing her heart-shaped face.
“Where’s Piper?” Aidan says.
“Oh—she can’t make it. She has a headache.”
Aidan feels Barclay’s eyes on him, and he doesn’t meet his gaze.
“So... just you?”
