The Next Day (Foothills Book 2) by Carrie Thorne (christmas read aloud TXT) 📕

in Rome called about the new paintings. They want to highlight her work, and apparently one will be a perfect keystone piece for the show.”

Eamon sighed into the receiver, “She must be a wreck. She gets so nervous when her work is on display, when she might have to deal with criticism face to face.”

“Think she could use some support? I… I’m trying to figure out how to be what she needs.”

A moment later, he heard two voices muttering and arguing on the other end of the line. Finally, Tammy’s voice blasted into his ear, “Zane? How are you?”

“Um, I’m fine.”

“Tell me exactly what Freya said when she left.”

“The last thing she said was that she needed to raid Sophie’s closet.”

A chuckle on the other side. “Huh. Well. The annulment hearing is on Wednesday?”

Fuck. It was. He’d forgotten in all the commotion. Freya would flip if they missed it. Three broken engagements and a divorce? No way could he do that to her. “I can go alone.”

“No. You’re going to Rome.”

“What?”

Whispering on the other end, Hurry up, Eamon. No, I don’t care how much it costs. First class. He paid for the wedding… yes, dip into the wedding fund. “Your flight leaves in…” More whispering. “Four hours.”

“My flight?”

His mother-in-law’s frank disappointment battered against his eardrum. “Don’t be an idiot. Do you love her?”

“Yes.”

“You know how terrible her last relationships have been?”

“Yeah.” He rubbed a hand over his face. This is what Asher had been ready to kick his ass about. “I’m not one of those guys. I will do whatever she needs.”

“I would love to be the one there to support her again, but it’s not me she needs right now. It’s you. Eamon is sending you your flight information as we speak. Can you get to SeaTac okay?”

“Of course. But–”

“You need to prove her wrong. I’ve tried telling her that no relationship is perfect. That you need to make compromises for each other, but you also need to build each other up. Be honest with me, Zane. Do you?”

“What? Build each other up?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck yeah. I mean, sorry, yes, I hope so. She… she’s… everything.”

“Then get on the plane. Go tell her. Everything.”

Shit. Holy shit. His pulse was downright thready. He hung up and stared blankly ahead, feeling more terrified than when he had a gun trained on his head this morning.

When he came back inside, his mother held out a beer for him. “This is rather tasty. I mean, a little bitter for my liking. But I thought, after the morning we’ve had, Saturday lunch beer sounded perfect.”

He shook his head. “I’ve got to go. You guys can stay tonight and head out in the morning as you planned.”

“Oh. But we came to see you.”

A derisive laugh pushed out from his throat. “Of course. You’ve graced me with your presence and think I should rearrange my life for you. No. I need to be with my wife.” He took a slow breath, then added under his breath, “I just need to convince her to keep me around.”

His mother’s eyebrows raise, her unwavering polite smile twitching. “Oh.”

He didn’t have time for this bullshit. Dashing to the bedroom, he packed his garment bag and his backpack.

Standing in the doorway behind him, his mother said, “I’m sorry.”

Without glancing her way, he asked, “For what?”

“We missed you. It was easy when you wanted to be an architect like us. When you were with Blaire, and she was like a daughter to us. When you turned your back on all that to join the Navy, the SEALs of all things, and risked your life day in and day out, well, we let you down. It was scary and we couldn’t handle it. But we should have.”

He brushed past her and stuffed his toothbrush and supplies into his bag. “Yeah, you should have,” he uttered, not bothering to put any effort into the admonishment.

“And now you’ve moved across the country, are becoming a beer maker, of all things, and married some moody artist. I guess we’ve missed so much, that we don’t know you.”

He shoved past her again and grabbed his bags. “Not sure you ever did.”

Craig cleared his throat and pushed his shoulders back. “You’re right. I would never have dreamed my son would be capable of what he did this morning.”

Fuck. Not this again. His stomach churned as he readied himself for another lecture about who and what he was supposed to be.

His dad continued, “You were right. You’re not an architect. Not the partner Blaire wanted. Nor are you the agreeable son we’d hoped for.” Eyes softening, his gray eyebrows pulling together, Craig sighed. “You’re so much more. If some monster had come threatening your mother or one of you kids? I… I couldn’t have done what you did. And you didn’t even break a sweat or look worried or scared. Steady. I guess we had no idea you were built for… that.”

Zane snorted. What the hell do you say to that?

His mother inched closer, hesitant, then finally wrapped her arms around him. “We’re so proud of you,” she whispered, her voice broken.

Burning acid welled behind his eyes. Picked a shitty time to decide to be attentive parents. “I have a flight to catch.”

Susan pulled away and nodded, wiping the gooey tears from her eyes. “We’ll lock up on our way out tomorrow. Let us know if you need anything.”

“Sure,” he muttered, hoisting his backpack over his shoulder.

Craig put his arms around Susan and nodded. “Maybe on your way back through, you could stop and visit us. We’d like to get to know you better.”

Zane halted with his hand on the door. Knowing he needed to say it, he turned and said, “Maybe next time. It’s