Rewrite the Stars by Christina Consolino (classic fiction TXT) 📗

Her face held no hint of anything that might make me pull away from her, anything that said she had found Theo attractive and by having her here, I’d be doing more harm to our family. Nothing in her soulful eyes and genuine smile gave me pause, but my belly still roiled with unease.

“Thanks for doing the dishes. And we appreciate you being available on such short notice.”

She paused at the door before pushing the screen open and heading out onto the porch. “You’re welcome. I’ll see you in the morning. Have a great night.”

“You too.”

Lena’s thin form meandered up the street. I closed the door and locked the deadbolt, then closed the blinds and adjusted the thermostat. Theo had tilted his head back against the couch cushion, but he followed my movements. The exhausted look on his face worried me.

“Long day?” The couch still radiated heat from Lena’s body. I snuggled in against the fabric—anything to chase away the coldness that had overtaken me the last few minutes.

“Yes, but it was good. Lena didn’t say it, but she might have been uncomfortable at first. I’m not sure why. Because I was around? But the kids enjoyed playing at the beach, despite the cooler temps. You should have seen the castle they built. They even dipped their feet into the water.” He chuckled, probably at the memory of the kids in the water. “Actually, so did I, and it wasn’t too bad. I was concentrating so hard on the cold water and anything else that might be wrong with me fell to the wayside.” Again, a smile passed across his face.

I leaned my head against the back of the couch but kept my sight on Theo. “Huh. I hope the weather holds then. I’m going to assume the kids are all asleep?” Theo nodded his head in affirmation. Later, I’d be sure to stop in and smooch the sweet darlings, in case Lena and Theo forgot anything, like the perpetual water glass by Charlie’s bedside or the extra stuffed animal standing guard on the dresser next to Delia.

The thought of the kids tucked into their small beds made me consider my sleep habits. Despite the early hour, the stress of the long drive on Saturday mixed with a full Sunday and too much jolting of my heart that morning had made me exhausted.

“Are you heading up?” I asked Theo. Visions of fluffy pillows, a warm comforter, and a good book danced in my mind.

“No, not yet,” Theo said and laid his hand on mine. The look in his eyes seemed full of questions, ones I didn’t want to know about and didn’t care to answer. If I shut my eyes, I could pretend I was more exhausted than I was. “It’s just, we’re supposed to be divorcing, but...”

A trace of nostalgia echoed in Theo’s voice, so I opened my eyes and peeked at him. His tired face, full of a sadness I understood, irritated me. We were here, at Walloon Lake, our “happy place.” Talking about an impending divorce seemed so tasteless, something I wanted to avoid. We’d covered all the “buts” already, many times over. And despite the odd circumstances, he had a good life. A safe life. His face should have shown some positivity, at least contentment. Did he even recognize something was off?

The energy within me didn’t exist to draw out whatever was on his mind. Everything surrounding our conversation radiated “awkward,” sitting with my soon-to-be ex in a place that held such fond memories for me, but knowing my life was riddled with unrest, that the memories made from this year forward would be different, for both of us. My hand fell away from his in the process of standing up.

“Holler if you need something. I’ll be reading for a while.” Smoothing the hair on Theo’s head with my fingers felt right and for a moment, he leaned into my palm.

“All right, Sadie. Sweet dreams.”

I turned away before Theo caught the teardrops perched on my lower lids.

Chapter 21: Theo

“Any thoughts about having a fitness center in the area? As in, right in the village?” I asked Mike, the owner of the general store. Tuesday morning and I wanted to get a jump on things. Leaving the kids with Lena for an hour—Sadie would be heading to the library, again—I’d walked up to the village area to gauge the interest of the year-rounders. Walloon Lake Village had a lot to offer its visitors and residents by way of food, drink, and entertainment—both indoor and outdoor—but a fitness center didn’t round out the list.

“Here? In town? You know there’s one up in Petoskey, right? And that...that thing. A spa or whatever the ladies like to go to? It’s up on Michigan Street, I think, plus there’s the salon next door.”

I jotted down the three places he mentioned on my data collection clipboard. “Yes, here. In the village. My boss is scoping out new sites, and he wondered if a fitness center might do well in this area.”

“If you can get to it in the winter.” Mike smiled.

“Yeah, there’s that. But people get here in the winter, don’t they?” A blast of cool air pushed against my back as a customer entered the store.

“Touché. But in the summer, well, there’s the lake. The trails. We’re all so used to driving over to Petoskey or Charlevoix when we want something a little bigger. Sometimes it’s pretty clear we’re not so good about change here.”

Change? Who was good about it? Wasn’t that part of my inherent problem?

“And yet, five years ago, you might not have used the word ‘touché’ in everyday conversation, right?” Mike shook his head at my words and tapped a roll of quarters against the counter as I continued. “You’ve had a lot of change here. The new restaurants, the hotel, the pop-up shops. I’ll keep asking around, but thanks for giving me your opinion.”

“You’re welcome.