Page 121 of Good For Me

“To show our kid his dad is responsible.”To show you I’m responsible,I think, but don’t say it.

She shakes her head. “So you’re going to show our kid that the only way to get by is to hate what you do?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Is that what you plan to show our kid? Because you’re not exactly jumping around in glee at the thought of two more years of business school.”

Her cheeks redden and she opens her mouth before shutting it again. I reach for her hand. “I just want you to be happy, Jas.”

She’s quiet for a moment. “I made a promise to my grandfather. He worked his ass off his entire life so I’d have the money to fulfill that promise.”

I study her face. “Will fulfilling that promise makeyouhappy?”

Something like panic crosses her face but it’s gone in an instant. “Yes,” she says tightly, and I know there’s no way she’ll budge on this right now. She’s too tense, too in her head.

What she really needs, what we both need, is a damn break.

“You know what,” I say, struck with a sudden idea. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

She looks down at her food then back at me, raising an eyebrow. “You think I’m leaving this much food in my bowl?”

I laugh, some of the tension of the last few moments dissipating. “Not the diner. Let’s get out of town—after we eat, of course.”

Her eyebrows come down. “Where would we go?”

I shrug. “We could go up to the beach house in Santa Barbara. Or Vegas, if you feel like playing some poker.”

She makes a face. “Vegas when we can’t drink doesn’t sound so fun.”

God, I love that she said whenwecan’t drink. With the exception of the day I told my dad about the baby, I kept that promise I made to her all those weeks ago. And it makes me really fucking happy that she sees that, and trusts it.

“No Vegas then. What does sound good to you? A road trip? The ocean? A cabin in the mountains?”

“Somewhere warm,” she says, seeming to get excited.

I pull out my phone and bring up a weather map. LA in November certainly isn’t cold compared to most of the country, but it’s not exactly hot, either. And the Pacific is downright freezing. I have a sudden urge to feel the waves washing over my feet. I haven’t been surfing since starting the job and I miss it like crazy.

“What about San Diego?” I ask. “It’s a pretty quick drive for a weekend and it’s going to be low eighties there for the next three days.”

She grins. “Let me guess—November is a good month for surfing there?”

I give her a sheepish smile. “Yeah, actually. But I won’t surf if you want to do other stuff.”

She closes her eyes. “Honestly? Sitting on the beach with a book sounds like heaven. You can surf and I can veg.”

I grin at the picture in my head. “How bout I surf part of the time and spend the rest vegging with you?”

She opens her eyes, looking happier than she has all day. “You have yourself a deal.”