hall. “Yeah, I’m aware of that. But you said you fixed it.”
“I did. That’s what the wrench is for.”
I glanced over my shoulder to see a massive red wrench lying on the corner of the bathtub.
“You’re kidding.”
“No.” He finally roused himself from the couch and came into the bathroom to show off his handiwork. “All you do is clamp this part down on the metal nub here”—he adjusted the wrench claws around the scrawny silver bar that used to anchor the faucet knob—“and turn.” He twisted the wrench with both hands, unleashing a torrent of warm water. “See? And if you want it hotter, you just bring it back and twist again!” He stepped back, beaming with pride.
I did my best to smile back. “Wow. That’s very…resourceful.”
“Yep. The landlord offered to call a plumber, but I told him not to bother.”
“So, uh, that’s it? There’s no plumber coming?”
“You don’t need a plumber when you’ve got a man around the house.” He swaggered back to the couch in his beer-stained hockey jersey.
I want to be happy, I want to be happy. “Well, thanks, honey.” I climbed into the tub and made a mental note to phone the landlord in the morning.
As the hot water streamed over my tired, aching muscles, I pressed my palms against my lower back and stretched. Nick’s repair job might not have been the most conventional solution, but the shower worked; that was the important thing.
This is what marriage was all about: letting the small stuff slide. All the books said so. I needed to overlook the petty crap like moisture rings on my—scratch that, our —coffee table and focus on the big picture. I needed to stop imposing my insanely high expectations on other people. Maybe I could even stop imposing them on myself. Nick and I could have a good marriage. Not like my parents. Not like my sister. We’d be the ones who beat the odds. The guy who wouldn’t look twice at me in high school would still be with me on our fiftieth anniversary.
“Hey, did you ask your dad about brunch this weekend?” I asked when I ambled back into the family room with a makeshift towel turban on my head.
He shook his head. “Forgot.”
“You work with him all day. How could you forget?”
“It’s a law office, Case. He doesn’t want to waste billable hours making brunch plans.”
“Okay, then I’ll just call your mom tomorrow.”
He jerked his gaze away from the basketball game. “Do not call my mom.”
“Why not? Last week, she said she wanted us to come over for brunch, and I don’t want her to think I don’t like them.”
Big eye roll. “They know you like them. Trust me. Everyone knows you like them. We don’t have to spend every single weekend eating French toast with them to prove it.”
“Well, excuse me for trying to be a good daughter-in-law. You should count your blessings—what if your mom and I were fighting all the time like Erin and David’s mother?”
“Then I’d get to sleep in on Sundays.”
“Nick!”
“What?” He muted the television and slouched down into the sofa cushions. “It’s not enough that you married me? You have to marry my parents, too?”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“You have my last name, okay? You got me. I spend the whole week listening to my dad gripe about how I dropped out of law school; I should get weekends off.” His blond hair flopped over his forehead as he withdrew further into the depths of the couch.
“I know you and your dad are having a hard time right now, but—”
“Yeah, we are. Nothing’s ever good enough for him, and I don’t need that from you, too.”
I want to be happy, I want to be happy. “I understand. But family is important, Nick.”
“Really? Then why don’t we have brunch with your family on Sunday?”
I just looked at him.
“You’re always talking about family time. Why can’t we ever spend any time with yours?”
“You know how my family is,” I said tightly. “Don’t drag them
“I did. That’s what the wrench is for.”
I glanced over my shoulder to see a massive red wrench lying on the corner of the bathtub.
“You’re kidding.”
“No.” He finally roused himself from the couch and came into the bathroom to show off his handiwork. “All you do is clamp this part down on the metal nub here”—he adjusted the wrench claws around the scrawny silver bar that used to anchor the faucet knob—“and turn.” He twisted the wrench with both hands, unleashing a torrent of warm water. “See? And if you want it hotter, you just bring it back and twist again!” He stepped back, beaming with pride.
I did my best to smile back. “Wow. That’s very…resourceful.”
“Yep. The landlord offered to call a plumber, but I told him not to bother.”
“So, uh, that’s it? There’s no plumber coming?”
“You don’t need a plumber when you’ve got a man around the house.” He swaggered back to the couch in his beer-stained hockey jersey.
I want to be happy, I want to be happy. “Well, thanks, honey.” I climbed into the tub and made a mental note to phone the landlord in the morning.
As the hot water streamed over my tired, aching muscles, I pressed my palms against my lower back and stretched. Nick’s repair job might not have been the most conventional solution, but the shower worked; that was the important thing.
This is what marriage was all about: letting the small stuff slide. All the books said so. I needed to overlook the petty crap like moisture rings on my—scratch that, our —coffee table and focus on the big picture. I needed to stop imposing my insanely high expectations on other people. Maybe I could even stop imposing them on myself. Nick and I could have a good marriage. Not like my parents. Not like my sister. We’d be the ones who beat the odds. The guy who wouldn’t look twice at me in high school would still be with me on our fiftieth anniversary.
“Hey, did you ask your dad about brunch this weekend?” I asked when I ambled back into the family room with a makeshift towel turban on my head.
He shook his head. “Forgot.”
“You work with him all day. How could you forget?”
“It’s a law office, Case. He doesn’t want to waste billable hours making brunch plans.”
“Okay, then I’ll just call your mom tomorrow.”
He jerked his gaze away from the basketball game. “Do not call my mom.”
“Why not? Last week, she said she wanted us to come over for brunch, and I don’t want her to think I don’t like them.”
Big eye roll. “They know you like them. Trust me. Everyone knows you like them. We don’t have to spend every single weekend eating French toast with them to prove it.”
“Well, excuse me for trying to be a good daughter-in-law. You should count your blessings—what if your mom and I were fighting all the time like Erin and David’s mother?”
“Then I’d get to sleep in on Sundays.”
“Nick!”
“What?” He muted the television and slouched down into the sofa cushions. “It’s not enough that you married me? You have to marry my parents, too?”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“You have my last name, okay? You got me. I spend the whole week listening to my dad gripe about how I dropped out of law school; I should get weekends off.” His blond hair flopped over his forehead as he withdrew further into the depths of the couch.
“I know you and your dad are having a hard time right now, but—”
“Yeah, we are. Nothing’s ever good enough for him, and I don’t need that from you, too.”
I want to be happy, I want to be happy. “I understand. But family is important, Nick.”
“Really? Then why don’t we have brunch with your family on Sunday?”
I just looked at him.
“You’re always talking about family time. Why can’t we ever spend any time with yours?”
“You know how my family is,” I said tightly. “Don’t drag them
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