She didn’t want to hear that and had no idea what to say to it, so she sipped at her wine. It had hurt to leave Sam behind, but she’d had to for her own sanity and she’d convinced herself he wouldn’t care. That he was only marrying her because it was expected of him. If he’d really loved her…
“Can’t stand an acquisition slipping through your fingers,” she said, determined not to go there.
She saw the flash of hurt and anger cross his face before he forced the smile back. “I didn’t bring you here to argue with you. Tell me about the people you work with.”
They managed to get through the rest of the meal making benign small talk, but Paulie’s stomach was so tied in knots she couldn’t even have dessert. And when the limo pulled up outside Jasper’s, she turned toward the door before Sam could even think about moving in for a good-night kiss.
“Thank you for dinner.”
“Paulette, I—”
But she was on the sidewalk, closing the door behind her, before he could finish his sentence. If there was any chance at all she’d really hurt him by leaving the first time, she had to end whatever this was now because she’d just hurt him again.
***
“Joseph Kowalski, nobody wants to hear about your rear end while we’re eating!”
Kevin tried to stifle a chuckle as his oldest brother drew their mother’s wrath, but he must not have succeeded because she turned her maternal evil eye on him. “Come on, Ma. It’s funny!”
“That’s because you didn’t have sand in the crack of your—”
“Joseph!”
“I was going to say bum.”
“Sure you were.” Mary Kowalski turned her attention to the kids’ table and her only granddaughter. “You don’t like my mashed potatoes anymore?”
Stephanie shrugged. “I’m on a diet.”
“You don’t need to diet. You’re perfect. Plus, bathing suit season’s over. Why do you think women live in New England and put up with the snow and the wind chill? Because sweaters and winter coats hide all sins, that’s why. And we’re supposed to gain weight in the winter. It’s insulation.”
Kevin managed to avoid pointing out his mother was well insulated from the summer heat, too, by shoving a forkful of pot roast in his mouth. Even though Thanksgiving was right around the corner, they were having a family dinner to celebrate Joe and Keri returning from their honeymoon on some tropical island where an amorous, sunset moment had apparently led to Joe getting sand where the sun didn’t shine.
When there was a rare lull in the conversation, Kevin set down his fork and cleared his throat. “So Beth and I have some news.”
“Who’s Beth?” Keri asked.
“The bartender at your wedding.”
“Oh, that’s right. How could I forget when my husband almost got thrown out of our own reception for trying to hire her like a hooker or something.”
“What’s a hooker?” Bobby asked.
Keri’s island tan flushed pink. “Oops.”
“You put it on the end of a fishing pole, dummy,” Brian explained.
Bobby frowned. “Uncle Joe tried to hire a worm?”
“No,” Danny told his younger brothers. “Not that kind of hooker.”
“Enough,” Lisa yelled at her kids. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”
“I’m going to be a genius when I get older,” Brian mumbled at his plate.
“We’re having a baby,” Kevin said before his family could fly off on another tangent. “At the end of June.”
The only time he’d ever heard his mother’s dining room that silent was the night he’d stayed over during a Nor’easter and snuck down to rummage through the fridge at two in the morning. Then, of course, everybody spoke at once.
One young voice stuck out. “Uncle Kevin’s having a baby with a hooker?”
He slapped his forehead. Not good.
“I’ll talk to them before they go back to school on Monday,” Lisa promised.
“Thanks.” He was having a hard enough time convincing Beth he was a decent guy without trying to explain why his nephew thought she was a prostitute…or fish bait.
As the questions flew at him, he realized how few answers he had. Other than the baby’s due date and the fact Beth had moved across the hall from him because her apartment had lead paint—but no, they weren’t living together—there wasn’t much he could tell them.
“Why didn’t you bring her with you?” Mike asked when the conversation had settled to a dull roar.
“She’s probably working. I tried calling the apartment to invite her, but she didn’t answer. And she doesn’t have a cellphone.”
His niece almost inhaled the mashed potatoes she was forcing down under her grandmother’s watchful eye. “She doesn’t have a cell? Seriously? How does she text people?”
“I think she actually talks to people, like they did in the old days.” It was a good question, though. Not how she texted people, but how she’d reach out if she needed help. What if she had a problem and couldn’t reach him? She needed a cellphone, dammit.
An hour later, Kevin left the family room in the direction of the bathroom, but took a detour into the kitchen instead, hoping to sneak some of the leftover peach cobbler. He found Terry there already, with the plastic wrap peeled back and fork in hand.