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Failure is not the falling down, but the staying down. Mary Pickford
A dark part of me takes immense pride in the fact I know exactly how to piss off my husband.
I’m not sure when the dimple on his chin became repulsive to me. Only that it is. The way he parts his hair to the side with a little swoop that doesn’t even move when it’s windy used to make him appear suave and put together to me. Now it looks fake.
The way he adds my name to the end of every sentence feels like he’s trying to scold me. Joke’s on him. I won’t be scolded.
“For what you’ve done to me? I am indifferent to you. For what you’ve done to her? I hate you.
Fool me once, never again. That’s the new saying.”
But I don’t dignify his jabs with a single glance back. Instead, I flip him the finger over my shoulder and take satisfaction in knowing he’s wrong. That he’s not as smart as he thinks he is. And I’m not either. I feel very small and very stupid right now.
I love my sister. I just have a fucked-up way of showing it.
They might not speak it, but I hear it loud and clear all the same. A doctor who got her position at the hospital through family connections and marriage. A woman who is unapproachable, cold, and unhappy. A wife who is pathetic enough to ignore her husband’s betrayal.
Most sisters would have some cute nickname programmed in their phone. Perhaps I’d call her Sum if we were friends. As it is now, I might as well include her middle name in the contact listing.
I might be a doctor, but Summer has always been a healer.
“Yeah.” My fingers pulse on the steering wheel. “Yeah. Wine. Good.” I sound like a fucking cavewoman.
I kept thinking of divorce as a failure. But leaving tonight didn’t feel like failing. It felt like relief. Like someone has been standing on my chest and I finally got my shit together enough to push them off. My muscles are tired from pushing, and I’ve got some bumps and bruises from the fight. Leaving hurt, but I can finally breathe through the pain.
He’s sexy without even trying. Even the weather doesn’t seem to bother him. I bet he rolls out of bed after sleeping in yesterday’s socks and just shoves them back in those worn leather boots. I bet his hands are rough. I bet he smells like leather. And after the man I’ve spent the last several years with, I’m unable to tear my eyes away from the rugged appeal of the man before me.
the very last thing I need in my life is someone who makes me feel like there’s not enough oxygen in my lungs when I’ve only just caught my breath.
Put me on a big boat with no land anywhere in sight? Hard pass. I saw an Oprah episode about people who go missing on those, and I’m too young and pretty to die.
Her arms flap angrily, and her dainty face twists up in fury. A look like that could incinerate a man on the spot.
And this girl wasn’t staring at me like a married woman. Not a happily married one anyway.
Winter, as in Summer’s sister? Fuck, that’s a stupid combination of names for two sisters. They should hate their parents instead of each other, if you ask me.
Winter rubs her temples like she has a headache. I consider offering her an aspirin from my truck, or an orgasm. I hear those help too.
I already know Winter can do better. And I’m a lot better, whether she realizes it yet or not.
I want Theo to admire me, but I also want to kick him in the shins.
I glance up into the scraggly face of my sister’s fiancé. It’s not that he isn’t handsome, he’s just so . . . unpolished. He’s like a big, happy, manly dog that needs a day spent at the groomer.
NO he sounds perfect
Instead, there are waves. And smiles. And a, “Heyooo, Elsa!” from Willa, who is propped in a chair, sporting a small swell at her stomach.
Willaaa!!! <3
I don’t know what kind of Brady Bunch shit is happening on this homestead, but it throws me off.
“You’re not crashing a single thing. This is a family dinner. You’re family. And so, if my math is right, you’re right where you should be.” I swear my jaw drops open. Who is this guy? Cowboy Ned Flanders?
Doodly
I smell him before I even give in and look at him. Oranges, fresh and sweet, mixed with something spicy. Cloves? Ginger? He smells like mulled wine.
OOOOOOOOOOOO >:)
“Red or white? You said you needed a drink. I wasn’t sure which one you like better, so I poured both. I’ll drink whatever you don’t.”
That's so thoughtful
I wonder if being nice is infectious somehow. It wasn’t covered in med school. But science is always evolving.
I look over at her, wondering how two people raised in the same household could have turned out so differently. Opposites. Winter and Summer. Our names weren’t just a stupid gimmick, they actually represented us somehow.
I don’t even think he’s listening. He’s just staring at her like she hung the moon. It hurts to see his expression. I hate feeling jealous, but so much of what I see here tonight fills me with that dark, bitter emotion.
For the rest of the night, I observe. I pull back a bit, feeling like an outsider. Everyone is so content. And I’m so . . . not. It’s almost like watching bacteria grow in a Petri dish through a microscope. I can see it happening. I can understand why it’s happening. I can get close enough to touch it. But I’m still just looking through the lens. Studying.
Mom: You should have come on this cruise. The weather is glorious. Theo: Do you even understand how weird it is to look for dates together as a family? Confined to a boat? I would throw myself over the railing.
No one is trying to make her uncomfortable. They don’t need to. She does it all on her own.
The remarkable contrasts of this woman, removed and bordering on insecure in one moment, cool and snippy the next.
Try as she might, she can’t get under my skin because this is way too fun.
“It’s not my fault you’re all so fragile,” she volleys, spinning to smirk at us. Yeah, I think she enjoys watching us struggle. “That’s men for you,” Winter says tartly
“Careful, that one’s got claws,” Cade offers right as Willa shoves a pointy elbow into his ribs. I grin. “That’s okay. I like having my back scratched.”
The tone of her voice is different now. It bleeds exhaustion. From where I’m standing, she looks small and tired, like she might laugh or cry but isn’t sure which.
I don’t even want to keep needling her. What I want to do is give her a hug and tell her everything will be okay. I sense she needs that comfort.
“But you don’t even know me.” “Don’t have to know a person to be nice to them.”
I have this thing where if I’m shitty to someone, it eats me up inside. So, if I’m just nice, it makes me happy. Being negative is exhausting, ya know? And I don’t have time to nap.”
Tequila is not my friend. But for this girl, I’ll make an exception.
“I wonder if that cruel side is as hereditary as Summer’s nice side, you know? Like maybe that facet of my personality is just waiting to rear its ugly head. I don’t want to be like my mom, but I worry I already am.” “I think the fact that you’re even worried about that means you’re not like your mom at all.”
You’re pretty easy on the eyes.”
“Woah.” He rears back a little, holding both hands up, a dramatic expression gracing his perfect features. “I said you should give being nice a try, not excel at it.”
“Am I a snob?” I wonder out loud, brain hiccupping all over the place. “If you are, I like it.”
For a moment, the world stops when Theo’s eyes land on my mouth. On that drop of golden liquor. And when my tongue swipes out to clear it away, to end his attention, his gaze heats in a way that’s unfamiliar. Because men don’t look at me like that. Not the one I’m married to. And definitely not ones like Theo.
“You’re a manwhore. Who is younger than me. And you look like that.” I wave a finger over him. “And I still like you.”
“I definitely like you because you’re hot. And because you enunciate your swear words so clearly. Did you know that people who curse are more honest and trustworthy than people who don’t?”
