Holly Banks Full of Angst (Village of Primm, #1)(56)

“How’s my sweetie?” Jack asked. “How was your first day of school? Tell me all about it. And hey, we need to eat ice cream tonight! To celebrate.”

“Mommy hit a school bus,” Ella said. “Now she drives a smelly car.”

“I heard.” His eyebrow twitched.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Holly asked, snapping her fingers at Struggle, signaling she needed to sit! and settle down. “Are you mad at me? It was an accident.”

Jack kissed both of Ella’s cheeks, back and forth, cheek to cheek, back and forth.

“It’s not like I did it on purpose,” Holly mumbled. Struggle was now by her side, plunking down with a groan to lie at her feet. “Not like I chose to miss the bus and then hit the bus.”

“I didn’t say you did.” The sharp and sudden rise in Jack’s voice sent Holly a clear message: Let’s not fight in front of Ella.

Holly turned her gaze toward Anna Wintour, sitting in her white cachepot in the center of their kitchen table, so prim, so pretty. The lettering on her pot: Banks. Petunia Lane. Village of Primm. It seemed like a dream, a mirage of a perfect family, in a perfect home, with a perfect school for a perfect child. Perfect meant happy, thought Holly, and happy meant she wasn’t her mom.

“Forget it.” Holly folded, then shoved the school supply list deep inside her back pocket. Grabbed her keys. “I have to go. I’m late.”

“Holly, what? Wait. Why are you leaving?” Jack set Ella down. “Did I do something wrong?”

Holly spun around. “So let me get this straight. Are we fighting in front of Ella or not?”

“Whoa, Holly.” He put his hands in the air like he was the bad guy and Holly the cop. And well. Maybe he was the bad guy. Athletic shoes, athletic socks, gym shorts, shirt. Showered. An hour late.

“Dinner’s on the top shelf of the fridge. You might want to heat it up.” Holly stuck her finger in Anna’s soil to see if she needed water. She closed her laptop. Started gathering her stuff off the kitchen table. “I’ll be home later.”

“Holly.” He gave Ella one last squeeze and a kiss.

Ella ran back to the family room to finish combing Pinkie Pie’s tangled mane. Struggle followed.

“We need to talk,” he said.

“Is this about Bethanny? Because I know about your lunch. I saw you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Today. At Wendy’s. I saw you.”

“So?” He folded his arms across his chest. Was he being defensive? Did he have something to hide?

“So. I was in the parking lot.” Fool. “I saw the whole thing. She was eating your fries. Jack.”

He acted confused and bewildered. Like Holly was crazy. Like he had no idea what she was talking about. “So why didn’t you come inside?” he asked. Like that was the most pragmatic thing in the world for Holly to do.

“Oh. And ruin your happy meal?”

“We were eating.”

“You were, like, peppering your fries and waving your arms around all ha ha ha!” Holly demonstrated. “And she was tossing her head back and laughing all ha ha ha!” Holly twisted her face and laughed like that twitch did. Bethanny. Holly didn’t like to cuss, but she was so mad right now—she didn’t care. Not twitch. Bitch. There. She said it. And so what. Because it’s the truth. BETHANNY’S A BITCH.

“Quit your job,” Holly told Jack. “Find another one.”

“Quit my job?” His voice sharpened. “I can’t.”

“Why not. Because you can’t leave Bethanny?” Wendy’s number one single combo—no cheese, no onions—medium size with a Dr Pepper. Holly wanted to cry. I’m not going to cry. I’m not.

“Noooo,” he said, like Holly was stupid. Like Holly was a child. “I can’t afford to quit. Because I’m stuck. Because we have bills. Because we bought an overpriced ‘expanded’ cape in Primm and not the colonial we could afford in Southern Lakes. We’re not saving.” He counted on his fingers. “My 401(k) is a joke. We’re not getting ahead on anything. I work—to pay the credit cards. If I get a little money—it gets wired to your mom. Because she’s a child. Meanwhile? The child in the other room? My child?” He pointed. “Better get good grades or be amazing at sports because we’ll never have enough money to send her to college. You want curtains? We can’t afford curtains. We’ve bailed your mom out twice since buying this house, and we just got here. Funding your life? That’s why I can’t quit my job. Because I’m stuck.” He snarled. “Stuck in Primm, when—at best—we should be in Southern Lakes, and we both know we can hardly afford that, but no. You wanted the better school.”

“Funding my life? Funding my life? This wasn’t my idea. I never wanted to move, Jack. You moved us. I was happy in Boulder City.”

Jack had told her to quit her job when Ella was born. He told her he had it all taken care of. That he could support them. Holly never launched her career. Caleb the Cable Guy was further ahead than Holly was, and he was at least ten years younger. And Jack thought he was funding her life? I don’t have a life. At least, not one that was her own. Holly gave up film. She dropped it. Set it aside. For him, for Ella, for their family.