Don’t Make Me Turn This Life Around by Pagán, Camille (top novels of all time txt) 📗

me when I thought about Toby and Max, and all the family gatherings that would never be the same if Charlie and Paul split up. “Maybe if I had been honest with you, you never would have sought out Andy.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Libby, as much as I wanted to be able to open up to you, my actions and our divorce—well, that all comes back to me and Charlie. I really needed my partner to be there for me, and he couldn’t be, because he was working all the time. Like, he makes my hours look sane. And because he has a couple months off when he’s not working, he seems to think that’s okay.”

I knew Charlie’s schedule could be grueling when he was shooting the show. But because he and Paul had always seemed so solid together, I’d never considered that it had the ability to wear away at their marriage.

“I’m sorry,” I said. And I was. It was heartbreaking to see him so crestfallen. “Did you say that to Charlie?”

He frowned. “I guess not. At a certain point in marriage, you figure your needs should be met without having to post a billboard outside your bedroom window.”

“As much as I want to tell you I understand, that’s basically backfired on me. But it’s not too late for you to talk, you know,” I said. “Do you still love him?”

“Andy? I never loved him,” he scoffed.

For such a smart person, my brother could be incredibly dense sometimes. “Charlie, you dodo.”

“Oh. Yes, obviously. I always will.”

“So, do you really want a divorce?”

He hesitated, then said, “Yes and no? I know you want me to focus on the ‘no’ part of that answer and vow to save my marriage, but I need you to give me the room to work this out. Even if the outcome isn’t what you’re hoping for.”

He was right—I didn’t want them to get divorced. But he was also right that I owed it to him to let him figure it out. “Okay,” I told him. “I can do that.”

“That means more to me than you know,” he said with a small smile. Then he narrowed his eyes. “Hey, when you said you were feeling dead inside—”

“More like not alive,” I clarified.

“Fair enough. Either way, is that why you haven’t wanted to bury Dad?”

I glanced out at the ocean, thinking about what Milagros had said about him being with me, even if I hadn’t realized it. “I think so, yeah. I knew it was going to make me feel awful, and I was telling myself that I could somehow avoid that by looking on the bright side. But pretending only made it worse, you know?”

Paul leaned forward and hugged me. “Of course I do, Mad Libs. I was just waiting for you to figure that out.”

TWENTY-NINE

“I wish we didn’t have to leave today,” I said, leaning into the overstuffed pillows lining the back of the bed. Our room was actually a suite with a small living area, where the girls were still asleep, and a balcony overlooking the ocean.

“Me, too, but maybe we can come back over the holidays,” said Shiloh from behind the newspaper he’d picked up in the lobby. Pedro was dozing at his feet, looking like there was nowhere in the world he’d rather be. I knew it was irrational to wish we could take him with us—he probably needed ten more shots and a mountain of paperwork just to get on a plane, and anyway, he belonged to Puerto Rico, if not Milagros. Nonetheless, I couldn’t help but imagine him wandering around our apartment or playing fetch with the girls in Prospect Park.

“I’d like that,” I said. “Well, provided the weather cooperates.”

“Definitely. Speaking of which . . .” He peered at me over the edge of the paper.

“I’m waiting.”

“The power’s back in Vieques! There’s a story about it on the first page.”

I exhaled. “What a huge relief.”

“For sure. And it’ll certainly make life easier for Hector,” said Shiloh. In the hospital the day before, he’d told us that Flor’s parents were ready to return to Vieques, and that he intended to bring them back on her boat as soon as he was able. Pedro would also be making the trip with them. “And Milagros, when she’s ready to go home.”

“We should get up and ready if we want a chance to say goodbye to her before we leave.”

“You want to wake the girls?” he asked, glancing toward the pull-out sofa where they were both snoring lightly.

I smiled at him. “No. Do you?”

“Not even a little bit. Hey, Libs?”

I cocked my head and waited for him to continue.

“I liked what you said to Charlotte yesterday. To both of them. I’m sure it wasn’t easy, but Charlotte needs to hear that however unfair it is that she has diabetes, she has to take it seriously.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I just wish it hadn’t taken a couple of life-threatening moments to get to that point.”

“I know. But what you said to Isa was important, too—it was probably good for her to know we know she’s been on the back burner, and that we’re going to try to remedy that.”

“We’re?”

“We’re a team, remember?” He stood from the small table where he’d been sitting and strode over to the bed. Then he leaned in and kissed me. It was the best kind of messy, lingering kiss, and when he pulled away, we were both smiling.

“I love you, you know,” he said to me.

“I do,” I said. “I love you, too.”

“We’re going to get through this,” he added.

“What’s ‘this’?” I almost asked him about the phone call, but the girls had started to stir, and it felt like a conversation that was best had when they weren’t around. Especially because I intended to bring up our erotic embargo.

He gave me another smile, smaller this time but still reassuring. “This stage of life. It’s hard now, but it won’t always be.”

“Then it’ll get hard again,” I