But he was my son. Didn’t that mean anything?
Penelope looked up, relief and gratefulness so clear in her eyes that it spoke to something deep inside of me that wanted to respond in some meaningful way. What was it about that woman that was getting under my skin?
I’d kissed her. I hadn’t planned on it. She was accusing me of dark and stupid things, and I was about to tell her the truth when she tried to push me away and I grabbed her wrists and…one thing led to another and it seemed perfectly natural to kiss her. Or to force myself on her. I guess that was what I’d done. And I don’t know why. I’ve never had to force myself on a woman once in my entire life. Women flocked to me. I never wanted for a date, never had to go searching for a woman when I wanted one. I have never done what I did today. There was just something about Penelope that drove all sense out of my head.
And, right now, right as she made amends with my biological child, all I could think about was going over there and pulling her into my arms all over again.
I had to physically turn away to keep from going to her.
They came walking up to the house a minute later, their arms around each other’s waist.
“JT’s going to spend the night here since it’s already so late.”
I looked up, aware of the defiance in her eyes that was so much like the expression that radiated from JT’s eyes. I shrugged, stepping out of the way so that JT could duck back into the house.
“But if you miss any of your classes tomorrow, or sleep through one, you’re grounded,” Penelope yelled in after him.
“Yes, ma’am,” JT called back.
“We were actually on the way to bed,” Sean said, poking his head out the door from an awkward angle. “Please don’t tell my mom what time you came over?”
I almost laughed, but caught myself just in time.
“As long as you make an appearance in homeroom.”
“Yes, sir,” Sean said.
We said our goodnights and waited until we heard the front door lock and saw the television go off before we turned back to her car. Penelope leaned against the front fender again, pressing both hands to her face.
“Sean’s mom didn’t know he was there. Sean hid him out in his bedroom until she left for work.”
“That’s why she told you she hadn’t seen him.”
She nodded, peeking out from behind her fingers. “Is it possible to love someone so much that you want to kill them and hug them to death all at the same time?”
“Definitely.”
She dropped her hands and studied her shoes as she kicked at a loose piece of concrete on the sidewalk. “I guess you think I’m the worst guardian ever.”
“I think you’re a woman who’s in way over her head.”
“Maybe you were right the first time. Maybe someone should call child protective services on me.”
“I only said that because I was frustrated.”
She looked up at me and I realized there were tears in her eyes. I wanted to touch her, to make it all better. But there was still this thing between us, this wall that I wasn’t sure I could climb over just yet.
She turned away and climbed into the car without saying another word.
We drove across town, but instead of taking me home, she pulled into her own driveway.
“I guess the least I owe you is a drink,” she said without looking at me.
“You don’t owe me anything. In fact, I think I owe you an explanation.”
She didn’t seem to hear me. She climbed out of the car and walked to the front porch, leaving the door open after she let herself inside. I tried not to seem too eager as I unfolded my long legs from her little car and followed.
She was in the kitchen—the incredibly clean and well-appointed kitchen—pouring a healthy slug from a bottle of ten year old scotch.
“A souvenir from my dad’s collection,” she said, holding the label up where I could see it. “He was something of an alcohol enthusiast.”
“He knew good scotch.”
She nodded. “He also had very expensive tastes.”
She handed me a glass and sipped at her own. I swirled the amber liquid in the glass, looking at it in the light the way my father had taught me to do. I’d never really gotten the point to it, but it seemed to impress people. However, Penelope didn’t even seem to notice.
“I owe you an apology,” she said softly. “I shouldn’t have said those things at the bakery earlier today. I know you just care about what happens to JT.”
“That’s what I wanted to explain to you,” I said, setting down my glass without taking a single sip. “There are things about me—“
“I guess I’m still too much of a small town girl,” she interrupted, a sadness to her voice that drowned out my thoughts. “I thought I was a big city gal; that I could survive in New York City like I’d always dreamed of doing. But the truth is, I thrived in this town. This is the only place I’ve ever really felt like I belonged.”