Some mothers might have stormed after him and demanded he apologize. It was tempting. But Kara knew far too well what that would do . . . push him further away. He was a preteen, and going through changes that must confuse him daily. Given his normally sunny nature, she knew it would soon pass. Giving him time alone before approaching him would be the best option. Everyone was entitled to feel their own emotions. Kids just didn’t know how to hide them like adults.
A tear escaped before she could stop it. She used the heel of her hand to wipe it away. Stupid, pointless tears would do nothing to make the situation better.
She wanted Graham to call now more than ever. She wanted him to never call again. She wanted . . . so much. Too much.
Almost as if by design, her phone rang. Graham’s smiling face appeared on the screen. It would be better to let it go to voice mail, especially when she was this upset. He didn’t deserve to be burdened with her emotional junk.
The phone stopped ringing before she could make up her mind. And then it started back again. She’d missed calls from him before, and she knew his score. He’d try twice, then text and say he’d try back later. Graham wasn’t one for playing games when it came to following through.
So she answered, because what else was she supposed to do?
“Hey, you.”
“Hey, beautiful.” He groaned, and she pictured him sitting on the couch or stretching out in bed. She wanted so, so badly to be there with him. Curling up beside him on the couch, or tucked against his shoulder in bed. “How was your day?”
“Boring. Busy. The usual.” She wiped another tear away. Maybe she should give herself a break. Like Zach’s ever-changing hormones, she couldn’t forever battle back her emotions and walk around like ice.
There was a long silence, then, “Kara? Everything okay?”
“Fine, yeah. Everything’s fine. We’re all . . . fine.” Lame, so very lame.
Graham must have agreed because she heard the squeak of his bed rails—a sound she was intimately familiar with after their lunch hour rendezvous—and he obviously got back out of bed. “I’m coming over.”
“Graham, no. I just had a fight with Zach, that’s all. I’m sad about that. Please, don’t worry about anything.”
Don’t come over here. I’ll lose my everlovin’ mind. I can’t resist you.
“I’m coming. Fifteen minutes.” He hung up before she could argue further. She could send a text, but that wouldn’t matter. He would ignore it.
She got up, shaky yet on her legs, and closed her laptop. Even without Graham coming over, her productivity was shot for the night. She got a bottle of water and stood beside the door, waiting for his text that he was there. At this time of night, she knew he wouldn’t knock in case Zach went to bed early.
She was proved right when the text came ten minutes later.
I’m here. Please let me in. Don’t turn me away.
She opened the door and stood, watching him. He looked tired. Exhausted, actually. “Is everything okay?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing.” He stepped in as she widened the door, shut it behind him, then enveloped her in a strong, unbreakable hug. She wanted to be resistant, but couldn’t, and her arms came around him, seeking comfort.
“Hey, hey.” He cupped the back of her head as she nuzzled in, whispering softly and swaying as if they were on the dance floor instead of in her apartment. “What’s wrong? Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I . . .” She fought back the tears, fought so hard, then decided now was as good a time as any to let some release. “I’m sorry but I’m about to—” She hiccupped, and that was the end of holding back. She burst into tears.
*
WORRIED, Graham held Kara while she cried. She’d mentioned a fight with Zach—natural enough for most parent-child relationships, but not for theirs—yet this crying jag seemed disproportionate for a simple fight with her son.
“Let’s . . . okay, then.” He held her tighter when she sobbed. “Let’s sit on the couch for a bit.”
She shook her head vigorously against his chest, but didn’t say more, just kept crying.
So he stood and held her, knowing it would eventually pass, wondering what in the world had set her off. Kara was a practical, intelligent woman. She wouldn’t break down into tears over something silly. It had to be real, and it had to be important.
Zach peeked around the corner, his eyes wide with surprise. “Mom?” he mouthed.
Graham shook his head, giving him a hand signal that said, Give it a minute.
The boy took another few cautious steps toward them. He was completely out of Kara’s line of sight—though everything was, with her face buried against his shirt like that—and he seemed to want to stay that way. His eyes watched his mother’s shoulders shake, sadness and regret clear in them. “I made her cry,” he whispered.
“She’ll be okay. Can you put yourself to bed tonight?”
He nodded rapidly, ready to prove himself worthy of the task. He tried one more step forward, then turned and ran back to his room, shutting the door quietly.
They’d be alone for the night, Graham knew. Nothing turned a boy’s blood cold faster than his own mother’s tears.