“She’s taking you away from all your friends and never letting you come back, huh?” he asked. “That sucks.”
Melissa glanced at him. “She said I could still see my friends. You know, on the weekends Tyler’s with you. And I’ll have my cell phone.”
He didn’t say anything.
She sighed. “It won’t be the same.”
“That’s part of growing up. Things change.”
“But I don’t want this.”
“That happens, too.”
There were a lot of things he didn’t want. He didn’t want to have missed the first eleven years of his son’s life. But no matter how he yelled or complained or threatened, nothing about the situation would change.
“Sometimes you have to accept how things are,” he said as much to himself as to Melissa. “You can make it easy on yourself, or you can make it hard. The choice is yours.”
“Maybe I don’t want to grow up,” she argued.
“After what you’ve already been through?” He smiled. “Sorry, Melissa. It’s happening and you’re turning out great.”
“Can we get ice cream?” Tyler asked, looking back at Ethan.
“I think ice cream is a good idea,” Liz agreed. She pointed to the stand up ahead. “Something dipped in chocolate would be very nice.”
Beside her, Abby laughed. “You really like chocolate.”
“I do. It’s a chick thing.”
“Ice cream for everyone,” Ethan concurred. He turned to Melissa. “You okay?”
She nodded.
Fifteen minutes later they were all stretched out on the grass, in the shade, eating ice cream. Abby stayed close to Liz, as did Tyler. Melissa was a few feet away, by herself. Ethan found himself wishing Liz were leaning against him the way Abby leaned against her. Because being angry didn’t mean he stopped wanting her.
It had always been that way, he reminded himself. It had been the first day of his senior year of school. He’d been walking down the hallway when he’d spotted Liz. She’d had that shy, terrified look that told him she was unprepared for the transition from junior high.
Even then she’d been beautiful. Tall and slim, with curves in the right places. There’d been something about the way she’d carried herself-with a warning that you could look but you couldn’t touch. She didn’t make eye contact with anyone.
One of Ethan’s friends had nudged him.
“See that girl there? She’s Liz Sutton. I’ve heard she puts out as much as her mom. I hope it’s true.”
Ethan didn’t know what combination of events had started the rumors about Liz. Maybe the girls in school had resented how beautiful she was. Maybe the boys had hated that she wouldn’t pay attention to them. But in a matter of weeks, everyone knew Liz Sutton had a reputation for being easy and cheap.
Even so, he’d been attracted to her. Not just for the potential sex, but because he’d seen something in her eyes. Something that called to him.
He’d spoken to her a few times that year. Or at least he’d tried. She’d always turned away and disappeared with an ease that told him she was well practiced at vanishing. Then he’d graduated and gone off to college, nearly forgetting all about Liz.
Until the summer before his senior year. When he’d come home in May and literally run into her on the sidewalk. He’d taken one look at her and known he had to have her.
His initial interest had been about how she looked, but he’d quickly discovered there was a smart brain behind the green eyes. That Liz had a wicked sense of humor and yet a moral compass that appealed to him. He’d learned she was kind and self-aware and that no one else had ever kissed her. He’d been her first…for everything.
“Ethan, what are you thinking?” Liz asked. “You have the strangest look on your face.”
He smiled. “I was remembering that you were the smartest girl in school.”
Liz wrinkled her nose. “Hardly.”
Abby and Tyler both looked at him. “Really?” Tyler asked. “Mom was smart?”
“Hey, kiddo. I’m plenty smart now,” Liz pointed out.
He grinned at her, then turned back to Ethan.
“She was,” he told them. “All As in her classes. A scholarship to college.” Which she hadn’t used because of him, he reminded himself.
“That was a long time ago,” Liz reminded, avoiding his gaze. “School was easy for me. I liked to read. Books were my friends.”
“Is that why you write now?” Melissa asked. “Because you used to read?”
“I’m sure that’s part of it. One of the best ways to learn how to write is to read.”
“How can you have a book for a friend?” Abby asked. “You can’t talk to them.”
“No, but they can take you away to another place. With books, the world feels safe.”
Abby and Melissa looked at each other, then back at her.
“Could you give me the name of some books to read?” Abby asked quietly.
“Sure. We can go to the library later.”
“I like to read, too,” Tyler said.
“Are you going to be a writer?” Melissa asked. “When you grow up?”
Tyler shook his head. “I want to build stuff, like my dad.”
Ethan happened to be looking at Liz as their son spoke. She didn’t react at all, as if she’d already heard this. But to him, the information was new and filled him with a sense of pride. He waited for that to be followed by resentment-after all, he’d already lost so much.
The feelings were there, but not as intense as before. The loss, the anger was muted somehow. Less important. Liz had been right-he couldn’t have a relationship in the present if he kept living in the past. What mattered with Tyler was today.
His gaze drifted over Liz’s face. She was a part of his son’s life. He couldn’t have one without dealing with the other. He’d loved Liz once-as much as he could at that age. With a limited life experience and nothing much ever required of him. He’d been a child in a man’s body. He was older now. But all that life experience hadn’t made him a whole lot smarter when it came to Liz.
THE AFTERNOON OF BIKE RIDING stretched into a dinner out, followed by a movie. By the time Ethan walked Liz and the kids home, it was after ten and everyone was tired.
Liz felt her own emotional exhaustion sucking at every step and knew the girls had to be ready to collapse, as well. For once, no one protested getting ready for bed. While she checked on the girls, Ethan said good-night to Tyler. They met downstairs. Liz was prepared to thank him for the day and show him the door, but something in his eyes stopped her. They were bright with an emotion she didn’t recognize.
“I never got to do that before,” he revealed quietly. “Put him to bed.”
There was nothing accusatory in his tone, and still she felt as if he’d hit her in the stomach. Her body stiffened as guilt flooded her. Then like a montage in a movie, she saw her son’s life as a series of pictures.
Somehow in the challenge of raising a baby alone, she’d forgotten about the magical moments Ethan had missed. The first smile, first step, first word. First day of school, first friend. But even more painful were the everyday things she took for granted. The moments that made a relationship.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered and sank onto the sofa. “I’m so sorry.”
He sat next to her and wrapped his arms around her. For once, she let herself lean on someone as everything crashed in on her. Being back in town, the stress with her nieces, the reality of dealing with Ethan again. He might be the cause, but he was also the only safe haven she’d ever known. While their time together had ended badly, that was for another time. This was about now and maybe what could have been.
“I never wanted it to be like this,” she muttered, fighting tears.
He touched his fingers to her chin, easing her head up until they looked at each other.
“I know,” he told her.
“It’s mostly your fault,” she declared with a sniff.
