Life is good.

Mostly.

Aside from the fact that Bri leaves for college in two days and Christine is a basket case almost every single moment.

Yesterday she came over straight from the coffee shop, and it looked like she had gotten into a fight with a bag of flour.

I even saw it in her ear.

She has bags under her eyes from lack of sleep. Of course, she’s still beautiful.

Between trying to get Balance up and running and sending Bri off, she’s wearing herself thin, and I don’t like it.

So, the kids and I planned a fun night.

We’re getting back to the basics and having a family night in.

Playing games, watching a movie, vegging out, eating all the food.

Bri and the boys are at the store together grabbing a few snacks then they’ll order pizza and I’m on my way to pick up Christine. I don’t even want her worrying about driving at this point.

I pull into her driveway and climb out, heading up the porch steps. After we got more serious, we gave each other an open-door policy, exchanged keys. Hopefully, eventually we won’t need separate keys. But that’s for another day.

“Christine?” I yell out when I don’t see her immediately but I don’t get a response. I make my way to her bedroom and find her sitting at the foot of her bed, hunched over a little bit as she slides her feet into a pair of sandals.

“Babe?”

She looks up at me, tears flooding her eyes.

Ah, shit.

“Oh, sweetheart,” I say, my voice softening as I move closer to her, sitting on the bed and wrapping her up in my arms.

Her head falls to my shoulder, and she sniffles before breaking down completely.

“I d-don’t want her to l-leave. We didn’t get enough t-t-time,” she cries. At least, I think that’s what she says.

“She’s not leaving for good,” I try to remind her.

“Yes, she is. She’s leaving and never coming back.”

I chuckle then quickly stop when her eyes dart to me, glaring.

I can’t help it, though. She’s so irrational right now.

Not that I would ever say that out loud. I’m a quick learner, and she’s obviously not in the joking mood.

“You really think that Bri is going to go to college and never come back home? Never check in with you?”

“Well, I don’t know. It sure seems like she’s just itching to get out of here. She doesn’t leave for three days. Three days, Andy! And she already has her bags all packed! Who does that?”

Normal people?

I don’t dare explain that she’s probably ready to leave because her mom has lost her damn mind the last few days. Or the fact that she and Grady are going to the same school, and she’s more than likely very ready to have that newfound freedom that comes with college.

Or the simple fact that Bri is a healthy, active eighteen-year-old young woman, who is ready for the next stage of her life.

Instead…

“She loves you, and she’s going to miss you so bad that she’s probably going to want to come home right away.”

“Why would you say that?” she cries and hits me on the shoulder.

Did I mention she’s irrational lately?

“Umm. How about…” I hug her tightly, look to the ceiling for answers that obviously aren’t there, and mentally whisper a prayer for the right words.

“I love you?”

“Andy! You’re not a help at all.”

“Gotta be honest here, babe. I have no idea what you want me to say.”

She sniffles and stands up, points at me. “Just wait. One day the boys are going to leave us, and you’ll be crying, and I won’t have an ounce of sympathy for you.”

I scoff. Roll my eyes. “Oh. Okay.”

They won’t leave me. They’re Daddy’s boys. Even at fourteen years old they still want to spend time with me. I’ll homeschool college if I have to. I’ll figure that shit out.

“Okay? Okay! Andy! They’re going to go away for college! Away from us! Soon, they’re all going to be gone.”

She bursts out laughing when I stand and pace around the room. “They’re not going to leave us.” I shrug like it’s settled. No big deal. “I’ll lock their bedroom doors. From the outside.”

“No, you won’t. They’ll be like Bri. Just itching to get away from us, too. And they’ll never come back.”

“Hey! No need to be so mean!”

“Oh, I’m the mean one?”

I realize that we’ve gone from her wearing the crazy pants to both of us hopping on that train and I need to derail us quickly.

“Come on,” I tell her and reach my hand out to her. She takes it and squeezes

I walk us down the hall into Bri’s bedroom. The door is open, so I figure it’s safe to go in. I point to her bedside table at the picture sitting there. The framed photo is a collage that Bri made of her and Christine for Mother’s Day but wanted one for herself so made a second copy.

“Who does she keep next to her bed? The first person she sees every morning?”

Christine nods, smiling as her fingertip trails over their faces.

Then I walk over to the mirror above her dresser, where she has several pictures hung up around the outside edge. Pictures of her and Grady, more of her and Christine, some of her friends, a few of Todd. Then…

“When did she take these?”

In several frames on top of her dresser are selfies of Bri with the boys, one of me standing behind Christine with my arms wrapped around her middle. One of Grady with the boys. And one of the five of us sitting around the fire at the cabin, Christine on my lap, the boys sitting on the ground in front of us with sticks over the fire roasting marshmallows, and Bri standing behind the chair we’re sitting in, her elbows resting on the back, my face upturned to her, a smile on all our faces.

“At the cabin. Grady took them, I guess. Bri didn’t even know he did it until they were on their way home the next day and he handed her his phone.”

“These are…” I can’t even finish the sentence. They’re great seems inadequate. They’re everything sounds cheesy.

“I know,” she says. “Now you see? She’s not allowed to leave.”

I glance around her room at the boxes and suitcases she has stacked and ready.

“Think she’ll be pissed if we unpack these quick?”

A laugh bubbles out of her, and she leans in, hugging me tightly.

I kiss the top of her head and sigh.

I didn’t realize how quickly I’d grown attached to Bri. It started out slowly, and now I feel like we haven’t had enough time. When she visited us at the cabin, it was kind of a turning point. A vision of what our family could be.

And over the summer, we’ve made a lot of memories. Fishing with the boys, a few more trips to the cabin, bonfires in our back yard.

In general, we just had a great summer.

But now she’s leaving.

Which is why we’re supposed to be at my place right now, enjoying one of the last nights at home with her.

“Let’s go make a few more memories,” I tell her, squeezing her close to me.

She nods once, lifts up on her tiptoes, and kisses me on the chin then on the mouth. I take it and deepen the kiss. We don’t make it to family movie night at home like we planned.

But we do make a few memories of our own.

* * *

"Aidan! Stop. You’re putting too much on!”

“There’s never too much, Bri. Do you know anything?”

“I know a heck of a lot more than you do, obviously. And I’m saying it’s too much.”

“Reece. Tell her she’s wrong.”

“I’m staying out of it. Just minding my own business over here.”

“You’re such a suck up!”

“How is that sucking up? I’m saying I’m neutral. Not getting involved in whatever weird crap you two have going on.”

I look at Christine and shrug my shoulders. Her wide smile proving that our extra time spent alone before joining the kids was definitely worth it.

In more ways than one.

I wasn’t kidding when I said that she’s been a little out of it lately. Way more emotional than normal, but considering she’s sending Bri off to college soon, I get it.

“What are they talking about?” Christine whispers.

“I have no idea.”

“Enough already! It will just be soggy and gross. Ugh. Move over and let me do it.”

“You don’t know everything, Bri. Just let us help.”

“Guys! Dad is going to be here any minute with Christine, and we want this done, right? Just…” We both hear Reece sigh like he’s irritated. “Stop arguing and work it out. It’s like one of our last nights together before Bri ditches us, and I don’t want to spend it fighting. Can’t we do one with extra and regular?”

I glance down at Christine as we stand on the other side of the wall that separates the kitchen and the living room while we eavesdrop on our kids. How they didn’t hear us walk in the house, I’ll never know.

“Regular? See! I knew you were taking her side.”

“Holy crap. Why are you acting like a girl?”

“Hey! I feel like I should be offended.”

“Why?”

“Duh. ’Cause I’m a girl.”

“But you’re not like a girl girl. You’re just Bri.”

“Umm, thanks?”

I press my lips together. My how their image of her has changed. No longer are they harboring any crush-like feelings for her.

“They’re full on siblings now, huh?” Christine whispers, but her voice quivers.

I nod then look down at her. “You’re going to cry again, aren’t you?”

“Shut up! I can’t help it,” she says through giggling tears as she wipes under her eyes.

I shake my head then pull her into the kitchen but stop short when I see what they were arguing over.

The kitchen counter is littered with ingredients. Pizza sauce, a half-empty package of pepperoni, chopped green peppers and onions, crumbled sausage, a can of mushrooms, and lots (and lots) of cheese. It looks like they even tried making their own pizza crust.

How long was I gone?

Doesn’t it take a while for the dough to rise or whatever it has to do?

I look at the watch on my wrist and scrunch my eyebrows.

Huh.

Turns out, the kids decided to forgo ordering pizza in and decided to make homemade.

Knowing my son, Aidan was trying to put too much cheese on the pizza.

I clear my throat, and three heads pop up from their tasks.

“Go away!” Reece yells.

“Uhh.”

“You weren’t supposed to be back yet. We were going to surprise you.”

Christine. Bless her heart. Starts crying. Again.

I sigh.

Reece and Aidan both get a deer in the headlights look on their faces, and Bri barely contains an eye roll.

“She’s fine. Just a bit emotional,” I say, leaning down to kiss her on the side of her head.

“I love y-you guys so m-much.”

“Mom,” Bri murmurs consolingly.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffles. “I’m happy. I promise.”

My eyebrows reach my hairline.

“I am!” she says, nudging me with her shoulder. “Sad. But happy. Good steps, right, baby?”

“Good steps,” Bri agrees.

“Okay. So, what do we have here?”

That gets Aidan and Reece snapped out of their emotional-lady trance.

“We’re making homemade pizza!”

“With extra cheese,” Aidan adds proudly.

Bri groans, and the five of us set to working together as best we can in my small kitchen.

Three hours later, pizzas devoured, two games of Yahtzee, one round of Watch Yo Mouth, and a heated game of Farkle, during which the boys both kept asking us “Who Farkled” and found themselves hi-lar-ious, we settle in for a movie.

Reece starts popping popcorn, and as soon as the smells wafts into the living room, I notice Christine stiffen up.

“Hey,” I say, trying to get her attention. “You okay?”

She noticeably swallows, and nods her head a couple times.

“Fine,” she mumbles.

“You sure? You’re kind of pale.”

“Just… excuse me for a minute.”

She gets up and runs to the bathroom.

I exchange a glance with Bri, noticing her furrowed brow.

I follow her, worried.

“Christine?” I ask through the closed door, knuckles knocking against the door a few times.

“Yeah?”

“You okay?”

“I’m…” I hear the sounds of vomiting, and we know from Margarita Madness night how well I do with that. “I’m okay. I’ll be out in a second.”

“You sure? Do you… uh… want me to…”

Even though it sounds like her head is in a toilet bowl, she still manages a giggle. “No, Andy. I’m good. I think the day is just catching up with me. You know, Bri leaving and all that.”

“You sure? I can get you some 7-Up or send Bri in or something.”

“I promise. I’ll be right out.”

Toilet flush.

Gag.

Me.

Not her.

“Oh okay. Was it the food?”

She’s been feeling a little off for a few days now, but she’s also exhausted. She works way too hard, and Bri leaving is taking a bigger toll on her than she expected. Until the boys and I came along, it was basically just the two of them.

I hear the sink turn on then off after a while.

“Um, maybe? I don’t know. I think so.”

“Okay, well. I’m here if you need something.”

She opens the door, a smile bright on her face.

“See? I’m fine.”

I look at her closely and see nothing but truth, so I decide on giving her a hug and holding her tight, hoping that she truly is. Okay, that is.