Broken Love Story (Love 3)

It’s the dreaded time for us to leave, and I haven’t kissed her yet. I’ve done nothing but think about kissing her. I’ve played the scene over and over in my head.

“What are you guys doing this weekend?” I ask her, stopping the conversation about the trial.

“I have no idea,” she says, looking at me confused.

“Why don’t you and the kids come and spend the weekend with us?” I smile while she tries to swallow. “The city fair is in town, and we could take them to the zoo. Get their mind off all this.”

“But where would we stay?” she asks, and I don’t even wait for her to finish.

“With me,” I say, and she opens her mouth. “I have two spare rooms.” I see the wheels turning in her mind. “Why don’t you ask the kids and see what they say?”

“That sounds like a great idea,” my mother says. “Get them out of the house so they don’t have to think about everything going on.”

She looks around the table. “I guess I can ask them. It would be like a mini vacation.” She gets up. “The bus should be here any second.”

She walks out of the house while we sit at the kitchen table, and I look up. “I really hope you know what you’re doing,” my father says first.

“You need to tell Hailey,” my mother whispers. “She needs to know what’s going on.”

“Mom, nothing is going on,” I say, but even I don’t believe my words.

“If nothing is going on, then why are we here?” my father asks.

“Well,” I say, throwing my hands up. “Come on, we have to help her.” My parents share a look.

“Yes, but we don’t have to bring them home. We don’t have to make sure she isn’t going to break. We don’t have to drive six hours in one day to make sure she and the girls are okay.”

I roll my eyes. “Son, you are so invested and involved, you don’t even see it.”

“Dad.”

“Do you know that when her brother-in-law came to talk to her, you gritted your teeth and flexed your hands every ten seconds?”

“They treat her like shit,” I counter.

“When she sat in the restaurant and wanted the booth to swallow her whole, your leg shook the whole time,” he continues.

“She’s fucking embarrassed, and she has no reason to be.”

“You invited her in your home to stay with you,” he finally says, hitting the nail on the head. “You haven’t dated one girl in seven years.”

“It’s too …”

“Oh, please,” my mother says, finally rolling her eyes. “I finally see the look in your eye I thought would never be there. The light.” She shakes her head. “There is nothing wrong with this. But”—she looks at my dad—“you would never do anything to hurt Hailey, anything, even start a friendship with a woman who holds a piece of her sadness.”

“It’s not her fau—” I say as my mother holds her hand up, turning to my father.

“What is this when I have no other questions and I’m done talking? Sort of like mic drop.” She motions with her hand. I don’t answer because the door opens, and Daisy comes running in first.

“We are going on a bacation,” she says, and I laugh as she points at me. “At your house.”

I smile at her. “Is that so?” I ask and look over to see Samantha and Lizzie come in, holding hands.

“So the girls think that spending the weekend away would great,” she says, smiling. “Mr. and Mrs. Williams, if you want, you can go, and I can bring Blake back.”

“That sounds great,” my mother says and gets up, looking at the girls. “I’m going to get Henry to put our tent in the backyard, and maybe you guys can have a sleepover.”

I look at my mom, not sure what she is getting at, but the kids get excited. “Can we do s’mores?” Lizzie asks. “And hot dogs on a stick?”

“Well, it isn’t backyard camping without it,” my father says as he pats their head. I watch the girls run upstairs to pack.

“I’m going to make sure that they don’t over pack,” she says, walking upstairs while I walk my parents out.

When I go back inside, I see the girls coming down with two backpacks. “We each have our own bag,” Lizzie tells us, and I see that Samantha is coming down, and she has changed to jeans, carrying her own bag.

“Are we ready to go?” I ask her as she grabs a jacket and makes sure everything is off. “I’ll load the girls.”

We walk out, and the girls get situated. Samantha comes down the steps, getting into the passenger side, and we take off.

We make it home just in time for dinner, and my mother calls to tell us that she is coming over with pizza. I walk into the house, leading the girls to the spare bedroom. It has a queen-size bed, so they are all excited about sharing.