Unbreakable (Cloverleigh Farms, #4)(73)

God, I’d have loved to see that. “Atta girl.”

“The kids are flying out with my mom to pack up their rooms this weekend.”

“They doing okay?”

“I think so. They’re looking forward to seeing their dad, which has me worried he’s going to disappoint them.”

“Maybe he’ll step up for once.” I didn’t believe that for a second.

“Maybe.” Her tone said she didn’t either.

“But either way, you can’t control him, Sylvia.”

“I know. And I don’t have to make excuses for him either. I’m so over that.” She took a breath. “So how are you? How are my baby buds doing without me?”

I laughed. “They miss you. When do you come home?”

“If all goes smoothly here, maybe a week from today.”

“I’ll take good care of them until you’re back.”

“Thanks.” She was silent a moment. “It’s so nice to hear your voice, Henry. This house is so lonely and quiet.”

Does she wish I was there as much as I do? I wondered. But I asked a different question instead. “Is it hard packing it all up and saying goodbye?”

“You know, not really. I think if I wasn’t so excited about our new house and anxious to get back home, it might be. But I know where I belong now.”

You belong with me, I wanted to tell her. The words were right there, I could feel them on the tip of my tongue—but I couldn’t say them. It would only make things worse.

But the more time we spent together, the more I was convinced it was the truth.

She sighed. “Well, I should probably let you go. I know it’s late there . . . I just wanted to hear your voice. Is that terrible of me?”

“Of course not. You can always call me.”

She called two nights later, joyfully describing how angry Kimmy had been at the discovery of the missing silver. “It was hilarious,” she said, giggling. “Brett was apologizing up and down for not showing up yesterday to get it, and she was tearing him a new asshole about how she’d told him over and over again that she really wanted it and he never listens to her. I was in the other room laughing my head off.”

I laughed. “And the kids arrive tomorrow?”

“Yes. We should have everything cleared out of here by Monday, they leave that morning, the closing is Tuesday, and I’m on the first flight out of here Wednesday. I can’t wait to get home.”

“You sound really good, Sylvia.”

“I feel pretty good. I’m a little worried how the kids are going to react to saying goodbye to the house—this is the only home they’ve ever known, and I think the concept of selling it has been mostly abstract until now.”

“Yeah, that could be hard. I remember being surprised when my parents sold their farm how emotional it was leaving it for the last time, and I was already in my twenties. But I’d grown up there, and it felt like leaving a piece of my childhood behind.”

“Tell me more about your childhood,” she said. “I feel like we’re always talking about mine.”

We spent hours that night on the phone trading stories about our youths—favorite memories, broken bones, best friends, playground dramas, awards won, sports played, high school proms.

“Wait—how many guys asked you to the prom?” I asked in disbelief. “Did you say four?”

She laughed. “Yes.”

“How did you choose?”

“Truth? I picked a name out of a hat.” She giggled. “I let Frannie pick it.”

“And was it fun? Did she pick the right one?”

“Yes. He was a perfect gentleman. What about you?”

“Um, I was not exactly a perfect gentleman.”

“What? I don’t believe it. Who was your date?”

“My girlfriend at the time. We’d been together for like a year by then.”

“What was her name?”

“Michelle.”

“Was she your first . . . you know.”

I imagined her pounding a fist into the other palm and laughed. “Hell no. Michelle was a good girl from the Bible Belt, and never let me do anything beneath the clothes. But actually, on prom night, she did finally put her hand down my pants. First girl who ever did.”

She snickered. “Was it everything you dreamed it would be?”

“Yes and no. First of all, I came almost immediately, all over her hand and my rented tuxedo pants, after which she burst into tears. Second, she felt so guilty about it, she told her mom, who then told my mom, who told my dad, and he had to come give me a talk about how to respect girls.”

By that point Sylvia was gasping with laughter. “Oh no!”

“It was horrible. And my brothers were outside my room laughing their asses off.”

“I bet. So whatever happened with Michelle?”

“I think we broke up right after that. She had trouble looking me in the eye after I jizzed all over her fingers. Frankly, I think she was surprised by the whole episode. I’m not sure she knew that was going to happen.”

“Poor Michelle. Traumatized for life.”

“It’s possible.”

She sighed. “I should let you go.” Silence. “But I don’t want to.”