Almost Perfect (Fool's Gold #2)(86)

“Like for a movie. You have poster board, right?”

“Not exactly.” He frowned. Who knew summer camp had homework? “If you have to make a poster, we can’t watch a movie.”

“But you said we could.”

“That was before you told me about the poster. School comes first.”

“But this isn’t school, it’s camp.”

Ethan felt the beginnings of a headache. He was tired. Not because he wasn’t sleeping well, but because his mornings were starting earlier. Tyler didn’t like getting up and moved at the speed of an exhausted snail. With the extra errands he had to run, there was no time to get to the gym. Now instead of a quiet evening watching a movie, they were going to the office supply store, to buy poster board and markers, then get through making a poster.

“When did you get the assignment about the poster?”

“Monday.”

“And you didn’t mention it until now?”

“Mom always asks.”

Of course she did.

“Is there anything for dessert?” Tyler looked expectant.

Ethan held in a groan. “We’ll stop on our way back from getting the art supplies.”

“We could bake cookies.”

“Maybe tomorrow.”

“We’re riding bikes on the weekend, right? With Josh?”

Ethan nodded.

“What else are we going to do?”

It was then Ethan realized he’d only ever had his son four or five hours at a time. Blocks that were easy to fill. Suddenly the weekend seemed like an endless parade of empty hours. They mocked him and made him think he should have opened a bottle of wine with dinner. Or a case.

“We’ll have to come up with some ideas,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

“We could go hiking. Or out on the lake. Or swimming. Maybe Abby can come with us. She’s really cool, for a girl. Or the park…”

Tyler kept talking. A steady buzz of ideas and questions and statements. Ethan watched his son and wondered how on earth Liz had done it by herself. He didn’t know that he would have managed, let alone done as good a job. The hell of it was, loving Tyler didn’t guarantee getting it right. Having someone like Liz to watch his back would make all the difference.

She hadn’t had anyone. Because he’d never bothered to go after her. Hurt pride had kept him from following her. Hurt pride had cost him more than he could ever recover.

“TO THE STUPIDITY OF MEN,” Dakota said, raising a glass. “And my brother, who is their king.”

“To Ethan,” Montana said.

Liz, Nevada and Denise also raised their margaritas and toasted.

After a dinner of delicious Mexican food, Melissa had gone to a friend’s house for a sleepover and Abby had danced off to watch the latest Hannah Montana movie out on DVD. Liz and the Hendrix women were in the backyard, sprawled on lawn chairs, slowly getting drunk.

Word had quickly spread through the family and to Liz’s surprise, Ethan’s sisters had rallied around her as much as Denise had. They’d been appalled at the proposal, insulted by his refusal to declare his love and disappointed by her physical restraint in not at least throwing something at his head.

“He’s having a tough time with Tyler,” Denise informed, leaning back and staring up at the stars. “His phone messages are getting more and more desperate. Apparently he tried to make lasagna.” She giggled. “It didn’t go well.”

“Lasagna? That’s a lot of work.”

“His first message was something about pasta and sauce and how it wouldn’t be that hard. The second one was to ask what a lasagna pan looked like. Then there was something about did he really have to cook the pasta noodles first. The last message said they were eating out.”

Liz tried to laugh with everyone else, but she mostly felt sad. Having Tyler gone was getting harder, not easier.

Dakota turned to her. “He’s asking about you. Today he came into my office and wanted to call you. I know he misses you.”

“I hope so.” She desperately wanted to talk to her son, but knew the plan was the best way to go. Ethan would return Tyler to her Sunday night. Then they would talk. The three of them.

In the meantime, she had women she could depend on. Friends, and that felt nice.

It was close to ten when everyone left. She rinsed out the glasses and put them on the counter. Washing could wait until morning. While she was enjoying her pleasant margarita-induced buzz, she didn’t think that it was a good match for a soap-slicked glass.

She turned off the lights in the kitchen and walked back into the living room. Abby sat on the bottom stair.

“I thought you were going to bed,” Liz said. “Is everything all right?”

Abby shook her head.

Liz pointed to the sofa. “Want to have a seat?”

“Okay.”

The preteen got up and walked to the sofa. Liz settled next to her, put an arm around her and kissed the top of Abby’s head.

“Tell me what’s going on,” she coaxed gently. “You feeling all right?”

“I’m okay.” The girl snuggled close. “Don’t be mad, but I don’t want to go.”

Go? As in… “You don’t want to move to San Francisco?”