“He still owns it. He just doesn’t sleep there anymore.”
“Oh no.” Sarah slumped in her seat, depressed by the news. “Tell me something else. Please. Can’t handle thinking about Kit ruining her life with Loserville.”
“Hmm, let’s see. What else can I tell you? Tommy and Cass are not doing well. Cass can hardly be in the same room with him now, because Tommy has shut her down so completely.”
“What does that mean?”
“Cass isn’t even allowed to bring up the topic of babies or kids. It’s apparently off-limits—”
“That’s ridiculous. There can’t be things you don’t discuss in a marriage.”
“I agree with you on that one, but Tommy is doing the ultimate power play. It’s his way or the highway, and Cass is considering leaving.”
“No!”
Bree shrugged. “It’s what she told Dad last weekend.”
Sarah’s insides suddenly hurt. “She told Dad she was thinking of leaving Tommy?”
Bree nodded.
Sarah couldn’t believe it. “How do you know?”
“They were over for a barbecue last weekend. It was great weather, really warm, felt like summer, so Dad thought it’d be nice to grill some steaks and have family over. Only it wasn’t a nice barbecue. Meg didn’t come. Kit and Jude were there but Jude had to leave early for something and Kit ended up going, too. And that’s when it became apparent that Cass and Tommy weren’t speaking to each other.”
“At all?”
Brianna shook her head. “Dad pulled each of them aside, independently, of course, and tried to talk to them about finding a middle ground, but Cass said she’s over it, and Tommy thinks that with enough time, Cass will come around.”
“And this was just last weekend?”
“Yeah.”
“Wow.” Sarah sucked the inside of her lip against her teeth, picturing Tommy and Cass, remembering how solid they’d once been. The whole infertility thing had really done a number on their marriage. “He could lose Cass,” she said softly.
“Dad said as much to Tommy. And he didn’t say it nicely. He pretty much reamed Tommy out, but it just got Tommy’s back up. The more everyone tries to talk to him about the baby thing, the more adamant he is that it’s not going to happen.”
Sarah tipped her head back against the seat, suddenly wondering if she should have stayed in Tampa. It sounded like this weekend was going to be endless drama.
“And Meg? What about her? Is she okay . . . considering the circumstances?”
“Mags is Mags—” Brianna paused as she exited the 101, merging briefly onto the 280, before taking Monterey Boulevard to reach their house in the Sunset district. “She’s just doing her thing.”
“I’ve only talked to her once in the past five weeks,” Sarah said.
“I don’t think anyone’s talked to her. Or seen much of her. She’s not wanting a lot of company, although, of course, Dad sees her at JJ’s games.”
“He’s going to them, then?”
“Hasn’t missed one. He’s always in his car, heading north.”
“That’s good.”
Brianna shrugged. “I think he could use more downtime—” She broke off as she slammed on her brakes and shoved her hand out the open window to flip off the driver who’d just cut her off. “Dickhead,” she muttered, giving him the bird a second time. “Drivers here are so rude.”
Sarah choked back shocked laughter. “They are, aren’t they?”
But Brianna heard the amusement in her sister’s voice. “You think I’m rude, too?”
Fighting the urge to smile, Sarah shrugged. “I wouldn’t call flipping someone off nice.”
“Whatever.”
Still trying not to smile, Sarah looked out her window at the small houses and buildings bordering Monterey. Soon they’d be in Monterey Heights, and then St. Francis Woods. She loved this area with the charming stucco Spanish-style houses built during the twenties and thirties, but her favorite Spanish Colonial Revival house was on Santa Paula. The 1928 mansion was reportedly ten thousand square feet, and it filled an entire corner lot. Such a cool place. San Francisco had so much history.
Sarah loved this city. She’d never planned on leaving it, but then, she’d never planned on meeting Boone.
If she hadn’t married him and moved away, she’d probably live in St. Francis Woods now, even though the elegant neighborhood seemed to permanently sit in a pocket of fog. But wasn’t that San Francisco’s charm? St. Francis Woods could be totally gray and soupy, while on the other side of the hill, the Noe Valley basked in the sun.