chapter THIRTEEN
“YOU WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT?” It was the next morning. Sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar, Molly pushed aside the paperwork she’d been reading about new state-mandated in-service training for para-eds and looked at her daughter.
Cait had dragged in from her overnight at Sabrina’s, taken her bag upstairs and then come down to the kitchen. Even her “hi” had been subdued. She shrugged and opened the refrigerator, stared at the contents without moving and finally shut it without removing anything. “It was okay,” she said.
Molly only waited.
“Sabrina was really blown away. I mean, she’d heard the rumors but she didn’t believe them. She’s freaked that I’m going to have the baby.”
“She didn’t succeed in tempting you to change your mind?”
Fury flashed on Cait’s face. “What side are you on anyway?”
“Yours,” Molly said simply. “You know that.”
Cait sniffed. “I guess I do.” She hesitated, gnawing on her lip. “I’ve really been a bitch, haven’t I?”
“Yeah.” Molly smiled at her daughter. “You have.”
The teenager giggled, then with startling suddenness burst into tears. Molly didn’t have time to slide off the stool. Cait threw herself at her mother, burying her face against Molly’s shoulder. She cried, Molly rocked in that timeless, instinctive motion and held her, her own eyes burning. She’d have given anything, anything, to save her child from this pain.
“I love you,” she whispered. “Whatever decision you make, whatever comes of it. I love you.”
Eventually the sobs subsided, and finally Cait withdrew. Her face was blotchy, swollen, wet. “Oh, God. I have to blow my nose.”
Molly kissed her cheek, wet as it was, and got her a paper towel. She watched as Cait blew and mopped herself up. She ended up splashing cold water on her face at the sink and drying it on the dish towel. Then they looked at each other.
“Have you changed your mind?” Molly asked.
“I want to.” Emotion washed over her daughter’s face. “But I can’t. Mom, I just can’t!”
Molly nodded. “Then you’ve made the right decision for you. A hard one, but right.”
“Nobody will ever look at me the same, will they?”
What could she do but be honest? “No. But here’s something to think about. Yes, you have two and a half more years in high school. I know that sounds like forever now. But when you leave for college, this will be behind you. You can tell close friends about your pregnancy or not. That’ll be entirely up to you.”
“So even if the rest of high school sucks, it won’t last forever.” Cait pulled off a smile that filled Molly with pride.
“Right.” Oh, heavens. Don’t let yourself cry. “And I know this sounds horribly trite, but it’s also true. The people worth caring about will stand by you. They’ll still be your friends.”
“Easy to say,” she muttered.
“I know it is. I know.”
They were silent for a minute. If it weren’t for Richard, Molly thought, she’d consider starting a job search. She and Cait could move next summer. Cait could start over in a place where no one knew she was anything but a beautiful, smart, transfer student.
Richard or no Richard, was that what she should do? Molly had to ask herself. Or would Cait be a better person for making this decision and living with the consequences rather than escaping at least some of them?
I don’t know.
Something else to think about, it occurred to her. What with Facebook and other social media, the world was shrinking. Could Cait ever truly have a fresh start, or would her history follow her?
While her mother was thinking, Cait went back to the refrigerator. “I’m starved. Sabrina’s family eats this really gross cereal. It’s like something you’d feed a horse.”
Molly had heard the complaint before. “How about a grilled cheese sandwich?”
“Ooh. That sounds good.” Cait rummaged in the fridge. “Do you want one, too? I’ll make them.”
“Sure.”
“It was a really good game last night, wasn’t it?” Cait said, plopping the block of cheddar cheese on the counter.
“You bet. Now, Coach Loomis, he wasn’t as happy.”
Cait actually giggled. “I saw him. He was green.”
“Well, it doesn’t help that his own kid rejected his sport in favor of basketball.”
“Josh’s choice.”
“That doesn’t mean his dad can’t suffer.”
Cait paused in the act of buttering a slice of bread. There was a suspended moment before she resumed movement. “Like you will, you mean?”
“No, that’s not what I mean. Parents always suffer when their kids do. But we also have egos. When you excel, I’m glad for you, but I enjoy the reflected glory, too. How can I help it?”
“What about reflected shame?” she asked bitterly.
“Cait, look at me for a minute.”
Her daughter turned from the stove.
“You made a mistake. I wish it hadn’t happened, that you hadn’t gotten pregnant now, at your age. But I’m also incredibly proud of you. You made a really difficult decision, a brave one. And the courage you showed making it and sticking to your guns also reflects on me. I’m proud for you, but for me, too, because I can take some of the credit for the person you’ve become. That’s how parents think.”
Cait’s face momentarily crumpled before she whirled back to the stove, pancake turner in hand. “I love you, Mom.”
“I know.” Molly smiled at her back, the sting of all that pride and grief inside her. “I always knew.”
Her daughter glanced over her shoulder with wrinkled nose. “Because you’re so-o smart.”
Molly laughed. “You used to think I was.”
“Maybe I still do,” Cait said, very softly.
It was one of those moments that made every travail of being a parent worthwhile.
* * *
IN THE FOLLOWING WEEK, Molly enjoyed every minute of this new, gentler relationship. She didn’t kid herself, though, that it would survive if Cait learned her mom was sneaking around to have sex with the last man on earth of whom she’d approve.
Molly was torn between two opposing lines of thought. The first was: why in hell were two single adults trying to hide a perfectly legitimate romantic—or was it only sexual?—relationship from their kids? The second was: dear God, please don’t let us be caught.
She felt more alive than she had in years. If it was just sex, she could be consoled by the knowledge that it was fabulous sex. She had never in her life had anything that could be labeled a “quickie,” but she’d now had a couple of those, and they really did spice up the day. Twice she and Richard had met at her house at lunchtime—her house being safer because Cait was stuck at school thanks to the closed campus rule, while Trevor wasn’t.
The first time, they’d barely made it inside the door. Her blouse ended up torn. The only clothes of hers that came off were her tights and panties. Richard only unzipped his pants and shoved his boxers down. He took her against the wall.
On their second lunch date, they did get as far as the sofa, and she protected her wardrobe by hastily unfastening a few buttons.
After both occasions, the afternoon had passed with her basking in a physical glow that definitely reduced her stress levels as she fenced with bureaucracy, a janitor who got caught stealing and parents irate over an incident they deemed to be bullying.
The thing was, Molly was pretty sure the relationship was romantic, too, because even when they’d had frantic, passionate sex at lunchtime, she and Richard also talked on the phone come evening for up to an hour. One of them called the other almost every night. For the first time, Molly had become grateful that Cait vanished to her bedroom fairly early every evening. The behavior was normal for her; she might be working on school assignments, but mostly she seemed to be online with friends, on the phone with someone or listening to music. Sometimes all three at once. That left Molly free to talk to Richard.
They never seemed to run out of things to talk about. Occasionally it was their kids, often tidbits of news or philosophical debates. She argued with him for a good hour one night about whether someone who had chosen to join the military then had the right to claim conscientious objector status when deployed to a war of which said person disapproved. Intriguingly, Molly had taken the “no” stance, Richard the “yes.” It reminded her of the heady days in college before she became a married student with a baby. She loved learning how this man thought, and it was obvious he felt the same about her.
What they didn’t do was talk about their relationship. They were in limbo and both knew it. Cait’s and Trevor’s problems had to come first. That he agreed with her was one of the things Molly loved about him.
And yes, love was the right word. Although she didn’t think so, it was possible Richard was mostly interested in the sex. But she had fallen in love. Really in love, in a way she’d never been in her life. What she’d felt for Colt was more of a crush. It was part of the same excitement of being out on her own for the first time, knowing how many possibilities there were, imagining a future. The two of them would never have lasted if they hadn’t trapped themselves with a pregnancy.
Which she couldn’t regret, because then she wouldn’t have Cait. But maybe…maybe she had another chance. She hadn’t thought she would, not once childbearing became impossible for her. And then once the years passed. By the time she’d turned thirty-five, it was obvious the good guys were all taken. On her occasional dates, she usually figured out fairly quickly why this guy wasn’t.
What she hadn’t figured out yet was why Richard hadn’t let himself get snapped up postdivorce. He’d been single for something like ten years now. Two of those years had been spent serving in Iraq, but still. Either Alexa had burned him badly, or the way he’d gotten trapped into marriage and responsibility in the first place had left him disinclined to burden himself that way again.
But she kept remembering the way he’d said, “Our time will come, Molly.” He couldn’t have meant only for sex, could he?
* * *
“BREE TOLD YOU THAT?” Richard adjusted the phone while he juggled cold cuts and French rolls between fridge and counter. “Yeah, he’s doing a lot better.”
He’d been surprised by the call from his ex-wife. He and she had hardly talked in years, not since the kids had gotten old enough their parents didn’t have to discuss visitation and travel arrangements. He hadn’t missed talking to Lexa. On the other hand, he couldn’t blame her for feeling anxious about Trevor and needing reassurance. It was to her credit that she was still worrying, even if she had dumped their son on Richard.
“What happened?” she asked.
He hesitated. If anyone told her about the pregnancy, it should be Trev. He was almost a man; if he didn’t want his mother to know, Richard thought that was his right. Whether he’d told Brianna or not, Richard couldn’t guess.
“I really don’t know,” he said. “He’s begun to take responsibility, that’s all. Thinking about consequences.” Something about your baby growing in a woman’s belly did that to a man, if he had any decency to start with.
“So you think he’s gotten over whatever upset him?”
A tentative note in her voice raised Richard’s antennae. It gave him an inkling that Lexa did have an idea what set Trevor off. That she’d lied to him.
Yeah, why should that surprise me?
Suddenly he was pissed. “And what could that have been?”
“I don’t know!” The little girl voice became shrill, defensive. Nothing was ever Alexa’s fault. “I told you I didn’t!”
“Yeah, you did.”
Evidently not hearing his dry tone, she continued. “It must have had something to do with Davis and me. But why would that bother him?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Are you seeing anyone?” he asked, hoping she wouldn’t take his interest as personal.
The small silence was answer enough. “As it happens, I am,” she said finally. “What, are you worried about me leaving Bree home alone when I go out?”
He was more worried if she wasn’t going out. He’d always wondered how many men she’d brought into the kids’ lives in between husbands. “Brianna’s fourteen. I think she can take care of herself.”
“I suppose you’re living like a monk.”
Richard couldn’t help grinning at her snottiness. It was damn hard not to say, As it happens, I’m not. I screwed a woman blind against a wall the other day. Or was I the one who went blind? Either way…never did that before. But, oh, damn, he wanted to do it again. Even if his legs and arms had both been shaking from the strain of holding Molly by the end.
“Probably better if we stayed focused on the kids,” he suggested.
She snorted. “Then why did you ask?”
“I thought it might have something to do with Trev’s attitude.”
More silence, which confirmed his suspicion. What he still didn’t get was why their son would go off the deep end because his mother split up from yet another husband.
“Listen, I’ve got to go,” he said. “I’ll tell Trevor you called. He’s, uh, still got a lot of anger. I wouldn’t hold my breath waiting for him to get in touch.”
He heard sniffles, made himself murmur a few reassuring things and gratefully ended the call. With a little luck, he wouldn’t have to talk to her again for months. Maybe years.
It suddenly occurred to him that she might expect to be invited to Trevor’s high school graduation. That would be normal.
Trevor’s decision, he told himself. And it was way too early to be worrying about something that didn’t happen until June of next year. Then he wished he hadn’t thought about the month of June at all. That’s when Cait’s baby was due. Trevor’s baby. The baby that probably none of them would ever see, except possibly for Molly, who would likely be at her daughter’s side in the delivery room. Wouldn’t nursing staff whisk the kid away immediately, when he or she was destined for adoptive parents? Maybe the adoptive parents would even be there, in the delivery room. He found himself breathing hard, remembering the birth of his own children. The shock and joy, even for Trevor, whose conception sure as hell hadn’t been planned. The sudden, stunning love.
He gritted his teeth. Why was Cait putting them all through this? He knew where his vote would have gone, if he’d had one. And this wasn’t it. If there was anything crueler on earth to do to two kids the ages of her and Trevor, he couldn’t think what it was.
And he found himself aching as much for Molly as for anyone. Hearing that baby’s first cry, her grandchild’s first cry, and knowing she’d never see him again…that would haunt her for the rest of her life.
It might be cowardly of him, but Richard was intensely grateful that he wouldn’t have to be there. He and Trev would wait for a phone call and pretend to be glad when it was over, that Cait was all right, that the two teenagers could start looking to the future.
After they got past mourning.
In living color, the film resumed in his head. Trevor’s beet-red face all scrunched up, dark matted hair, scrawny long body and flailing limbs. Ten fingers, ten toes. Like almost every other parent, he’d counted. Ugly—newborns were, by any objective standards.
Love.
Richard wanted to be glad this baby would live, whatever the sacrifice on Trevor’s and Cait’s part—hell, on his and Molly’s, too—but he couldn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to think that letting this child be born and giving it away was the right thing to do.
He wished suddenly that Molly hadn’t had a lunch meeting. It wasn’t so much sex he wanted right now as to see her. To talk to her. He wanted to have the right to go to her house tonight, ring the doorbell, walk in and kiss her. Maybe cuddle her on the sofa while they watched TV or only talked. That wasn’t so unreasonable, was it?
He knew that, if this thing they had lasted, eventually they’d be free to take it anywhere they wanted. But Richard was discovering that he wasn’t nearly as patient a man as he’d thought he was.
* * *
“YOU WANT TO COME OVER for a bit?” Molly asked. “Cait’s spending the evening at the library studying.”
“You’re sure?”
“Sure she’s going? Or that I want you here?”
“Sure it’s safe.”
She grimaced. “This is so pathetic.”
“Yeah, it is.” He laughed then. “I’m on my way. And it doesn’t matter if she comes home before I leave. She knows we talk, right?”
Molly relaxed. “Yes, I haven’t hidden that. She doesn’t know how often, but she’s heard me on the phone with you a few times.”
“Trevor, too, but he doesn’t approve. He thinks we should butt out, that he and Cait are dealing.”
“Is that a quote?” she asked, amused.
“Direct,” he assured her.
She was still laughing when he was gone. She couldn’t resist dashing upstairs to brush her hair and make sure she hadn’t dribbled pesto down the front of her shirt. And brushing her teeth wouldn’t hurt, would it?
The doorbell rang not ten minutes later. Richard hadn’t wasted any time getting here. When she opened the door, he stepped inside and gathered her into his arms, kicking it shut behind him.
“I thought all day about you,” he muttered. “This keeping my distance thing isn’t working for me.”
Alarmed, she drew back. “We have to.”
“I know, I know. That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“No. Me, either.” She leaned into him. His hands were roving, seemingly sampling the sharpness of shoulder blades, the indented line of vertebrae down her back, the curve of her waist and—no surprise—the plumper contours of her butt. She loved having his hands on her. She loved nestling her head in the crook between his shoulder and neck and inhaling his essence. For the first time all day, she felt…right. “Why today more than usual?” she asked. “Did something happen?”
His hands went still. “Alexa called.”
For a moment, she quit breathing, too. Not liking the sharp edge of something that felt like jealousy, Molly reasoned with herself. It was surely natural he’d talk regularly to his ex considering they shared two children, even if it hadn’t worked out that way for Colt and her. Plus—if talking to Alexa had set him to craving Molly, that couldn’t be a bad thing.
She stepped back, making sure the motion seemed casual. “Any special reason?” she asked, leading the way to the living room.
“Brianna tells her Trev sounds more like himself. Not psycho-off-his-rocker, as my daughter puts it.”
Laughing, Molly started to settle on the sofa, then stopped herself before she could sink down. “Do you want tea or coffee? I assume you’ve eaten.”
“I only want you.” His eyes were especially dark and hungry. “I had this fantasy all afternoon.”
She plopped down. “Cait could come home.”
“Sex wasn’t the fantasy, although I indulge in that one pretty often, too.”
She took his hand and pulled him down beside her. His arm came around her shoulders and he pulled her close. She felt him rubbing his cheek against her hair.
“This was the fantasy,” he said softly. “Holding you, talking, maybe watching TV. You know. Normal stuff. But all done with you.”
Her heart took a peculiar jump usually triggered by too much caffeine. “Oh.”
“I was really glad to hear from you.” His voice was husky, and more than her heart zinged.
“I’m glad you could come.”
They cuddled in contented silence for a few minutes. “Trevor still isn’t calling his mother?” she finally asked.
“Apparently not. The kid holds a grudge.”
She smiled and contemplated the little bit of Richard’s chest she could see in the V of his shirt. Colt had had a nearly smooth chest. She rather liked Richard’s chest hair.
“Kids at school know about Cait yet?” he asked, after a bit.
Molly nodded against his shoulder. “Her friends. She told Sabrina last week, then gradually some others. Which undoubtedly means word has spread. We don’t get that many pregnancies at the high school. She says people whisper when she passes.”
“Hard on her.”
“She’s maturing before my eyes.” Molly straightened so she could look at Richard. “She’s holding her head up. I’m proud of her.”
“I don’t blame you. I still wish she wasn’t doing it.”
“Because Trevor is standing by her?”
“Because giving that baby away is going to stick with them forever.”
Me, too. The knowledge was there, an ache in her heart.
“The alternative wasn’t so great, either,” she pointed out.
“Damn it, you think I don’t know that?” He scowled at her.
Molly knew she was flushing. “You should be proud of him, too.”
“I am,” Richard snapped. “That doesn’t mean…”
“You don’t have to keep saying it!”
His jaw worked. “No. You’re right.” His voice had softened.
“I liked it better when we weren’t talking at all.”
Something sparked in the atmosphere.
“Then let’s quit,” he said, and kissed her.
All thoughts of their kids left Molly. She loved Richard’s kisses—the way he consumed her, but gently, tugging at her lips with his teeth and the suction of his mouth, sliding his tongue against hers in a sensual dance, encouraging her to respond in kind. She sank back against the sofa, and the next thing she knew she was slipping her hands beneath his sweater to the bare skin of his belly and upward, while he had her blouse unbuttoned.
He made a pleased sound when he discovered she’d worn a front-closing bra. One flick of his finger and it opened. Molly groaned when he left her mouth to nuzzle and kiss her breasts.
“We shouldn’t…” she whispered, even as her fingers flexed on his chest. His hard, male nipple was a nubbin beneath one palm. She moved her hand experimentally.
“Shh.” He suckled, nipped then let his tongue play with her nipple. “We won’t take our clothes off. We can pull ourselves together in a hurry.”
That sounded reasonable enough for Molly to let her instinctive anxiety go. Cait hadn’t been gone that long, anyway. She probably wouldn’t be home for a couple of hours.
Molly’s hips lifted from the sofa to push against his hand. She groaned when he cupped her and squeezed.
“Wish you were wearing a skirt,” he muttered.
Or nothing. Nothing would be even better.
But when he unfastened her slacks and slipped his hand beneath her panties, worry stirred in her again. “Maybe we should go upstairs.”
“How do we explain that if Cait comes home?”
Oh, God, this felt good. Her knees fell open.
How would she explain to her daughter why Richard was upstairs? He could hide behind her bed if Cait came home and then sneak out later.... No, his truck was at the curb in front of the house. Cait would already know he was here. Of course that wouldn’t work.
She whimpered and felt her body tightening. He seemed to know exactly how to touch her, when to let his fingertips ghost over her flesh, when to apply pressure and how much.
“Yes. Richard. Please.” She lifted up and ground against his hand.
The sound of a key in the front door lock had her jolting upright. Richard swore and leaped back, yanking down his sweater. Molly fumbled for her zipper as she heard the door open.
“Hey, Mom.”
There were footsteps. More than one set? She got her zipper up and pulled the edges of her blouse together but she couldn’t even pretend to have buttoned them when she heard the gasp.
“Mom!” It was pure shock.
“Dad?” Disbelief.
Knowing her face had to be flaming red, Molly turned her head to see the worst. Cait and Trevor stood only a few feet away, gaping at their parents.
Trevor’s gaze moved from where Molly clutched her shirt together in a fisted hand to his father’s face. Then his face contorted. “You’re doing Cait’s mom?”
Richard rose to his feet. “I’m in love with Cait’s mom.” His voice was quiet but hard, too.
“I can’t believe it.” Rage twisting his face, Trevor picked up the coffee table and threw it on its side. Cait screamed and Molly shrank into the corner of the sofa. “You’re as bad as Mom,” he snarled at his father, and ran out.
Cait tore after him. “Trev?”
The front door opened and in the next second slammed shut, rattling a couple of pictures on the walls. Molly winced.
Cait reappeared, disbelief still in her eyes, but something worse, too. “How could you?” she spat, and then her feet were thundering on the stairs.
Swearing, Richard dropped onto the sofa.