Don't Make Me Turn This Life Around by Camille Pagán

Author:Camille Pagán [Pagán, Camille]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lake Union Publishing
Published: 2021-05-10T16:00:00+00:00

EIGHTEEN

“Well? What did you think?” asked Shiloh.

The tour guide had just returned us to the parking lot, and we’d toweled off and piled back into our Jeep. It was after eleven p.m. already, and although I was still raw about Shiloh’s disappearing act—particularly since the rest of the tour had required us to follow the guide, who yapped like he’d never heard a lovelier sound than his own voice—I was so exhausted that I’d resolved to deal with it tomorrow.

“It was good,” I said, fastening my seat belt.

“Are you disappointed that it was different from last time?” he said, glancing at me briefly from the driver’s seat.

Of course I was; that he didn’t know this was yet another reminder of how out of sync we were. “Weren’t you? Actually, never mind,” I said as I remembered that I’d already decided against airing my grievances. “It doesn’t matter.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he said in a low voice. The girls, who looked as tired as I felt, were silent in the backseat.

“It doesn’t mean anything except that it’s over now, so there’s really no reason to discuss it.”

I could just barely make out the taut line of his jaw in the moonlight. “Libby, would you just tell me what you’re thinking for a change?”

“For a change?” I said, jerking my head back. “I tell you what I think all the time. I don’t even know what you mean right now.”

“Don’t fight,” said Isa groggily.

This was rich from someone who practiced mixed martial arts on her sister at least twice a day. “We’re not fighting, but you’re right, Isa. This is a discussion best had another time.”

“Fine.” Shiloh sounded irritated. Well, I was, too. How could I keep my mood afloat when my husband kept reminding me that he was drifting away from me?

I turned away from him to stare out the window. “We’re all beat. Let’s just get back and get some sleep.”

Neither of us said anything more the rest of the drive, though I kept stealing glances to see if Shiloh’s expression softened. It didn’t—nor did he ease up on his death grip on the steering wheel. So now we’re both angry, I thought as we pulled into Milagros’ gravel drive. It was a fitting cherry to top the poop pie that was my cancerversary.

“Charlotte, check your sugar and let me know your numbers. Then both of you brush your teeth and hop in bed, okay?” I told the twins as I unlocked the guesthouse. Behind us, Milagros’ place was dark, save a dim light coming from her bedroom. For all I knew, Hector was up reading, but the thought that Milagros might be getting lucky made me feel even bluer than I already was, which was saying a lot. I blinked back fresh tears as I remembered what had happened after the last time Shiloh and I had been to the bay. We hadn’t hit our stride at that point, so we exchanged awkward goodbyes—but then he’d driven back

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