The Sweetheart Rules Read Online Free PDF Page B

obvious?”
    “Painfully so.” She laid a hand on Diana’s. “You know, there’s no better way to make a man regret dumping you than to show him that you’ve moved on.”
    “I don’t care if Mike regrets dumping me,” Diana said. Then she shrugged and put the chart to the side. “Okay, I do. Deep down inside, I want him curled up in the fetal position, sobbing in a corner, devastated that he let me go.”
    “Well, we can make that happen.” Olivia grinned. “I can’t guarantee the fetal position or uncontrolled sobbing, but if you come to the barbecue tonight looking amazing, Mike will definitely be filled with regret.”
    Diana considered Olivia’s offer. Maybe if she went she could finally make it clear to herself that she no longer felt anything for him, and get an in-person reminder of how uncommitted and undependable he was. Except she’d seen him with his daughters, and though he had been an overwhelmed and indulgent parent, that moment added something new to the equation of Mike Stark.
    Something she sympathized with. It brought out the side of her that wanted to help, to make it easier for him. When instead she should be cursing his name and wishing a packload of brats on his shoulders because of the way he’d ended things between them. Damn it, she still liked him, was still attracted to him. She needed some chocolate or some therapy or just some stinkin’ common sense. Mike wasn’t a keeper. He was the kind of man a smart woman threw back into the dating pool. Not the kind of man a woman like her tried to convert into Mr. Mom.
    Olivia picked up the dog leashes and reached for the door, then turned back. “It’s okay to take time for yourself, Di. The world won’t fall apart. I promise.”
    Diana thought of her troubled son. The custody threat from Sean. The uncertainty that loomed over her days like storm clouds. Then she thought of the bottle in the cabinet, of how close she had come to unscrewing the top. And in the process, unscrewing a lot more than just some Bacardi. She bit her lip and gave her sister a shaky smile. “Sometimes I feel like it already has.”

Four

    Ten dollars sat in the repurposed pickle jar on the kitchen counter. Ten thin, pale, green George Washingtons giving Mike smug told-you-so smiles.
    “Daddy, that is a bad word. You can’t say bad words.” Ellie stood in the center of the kitchen barefoot, her long brown hair still a tangled disaster, two little fists perched on her skinny bathing suit–clad hips.
    “Yeah, dude, she’s right,” Jenny said. She was leaning against the doorjamb, munching on a Pop-Tart, heedless of the crumb pile amassing at her feet. “So pay up. Again.”
    Mike could swear he heard the Washingtons laugh as he stuffed number eleven into the glass container. “Will you quit calling me dude? I’m your dad, not your dude.”
    Jenny looked down at the floor and toed a circle of frosted pastry bits. Her hair swung around her face, obscuring her expression like a thick dark curtain. “Whatever.”
    He bristled at her tone, but opted to save that lecture for later. The girls had been through enough lately. They hadn’t asked about their mother, but Mike noticed their attention perk whenever his phone rang. Jasmine hadn’t called, and hadn’t returned his calls, and that silence seemed to have left a permanent thundercloud over the girls’ heads. Undoubtedly, they were less than happy to be stuck with their clean-freak, schedule-fanatic dad.
    It had taken some doing, but he had finally reached a tentative peace treaty with the oldest, and was still working on negotiations with the youngest. After a day of battles over cereal choices, beach rules, and chore divisions, Mike’s head was ready to explode with the stress of being off schedule and in the midst of disorganized chaos. Only a few days into his stay here, and already Luke’s house was decorated in Early Hoarder.
    It drove Mike over the edge. But trying to clean up after the girls