“Yeah, and he helped me boost my car,” she said. As if that was all that happened. He’d woken her up, reminded her that she was still beautiful and her life wasn’t quite over yet. But he’d also tipped all of her expectations. She thought she knew what she was doing back here in Mountain Springs, and he was such a welcome distraction from the hard work of starting over...
“So?” Renata shot her a curious look. “Anything happening there? I mean, you’re at his father’s nursing home, dressed rather nicely—”
“He’s an old friend,” Melanie replied. “An old boyfriend, but still. We were young enough that it was a lifetime ago. I’m not even sure it counts anymore.”
“And the dress?” Renata raised an eyebrow.
“I’m reminding myself that I’m still a woman and I can still look good,” she replied.
“So there’s no spark, then?” Renata asked with a small teasing smile. “It’s too bad, because he’s cute.”
Melanie smiled at that. “A spark... What is that, anyway? Do I think he’s cute? Of course. Do we flirt a bit? Why shouldn’t we? We’re both single. But his wife died a couple of years ago, and I’m still reeling from my divorce. I’m not ready to trust a man again—not after Adam. And I’m not willing to toss everything aside for a man again, either. I’ve done that once and lived to regret it.”
“Bad timing,” Renata said.
“Bad timing,” she agreed.
“Love—the real kind—is so rare, isn’t it?” Renata asked softly. “It’s fragile and beautiful, and when you’re young, you think you’ll stumble across it over and over again, like butterflies in a field. But you don’t. Something changes inside of you, and you can’t see the butterflies anymore. Or they don’t come to you...”
“How old are you?” Melanie asked.
“Thirty-six.”
“Not exactly over the hill, Renata,” Melanie pointed out.
“I’m a mother now, with three kids, an ex-husband and a mortgage. When it comes to the dating scene, I might as well be eighty.”
“Well, you look great for your age, then,” Melanie chuckled. “So we don’t have our youth anymore. That’s short-lived, anyway. You’ve got something better—maturity, depth, beauty.”
“I also have a hearty dose of cynicism,” she said with a short laugh.
“Girl, that’s just survival at this point,” Melanie quipped. “You’ve got a lot to offer to someone worthy of it.”
“I keep trying to remind myself.”
“Was it the real thing with Ivan? I know you married him, but you know what I mean. Did you marry the guy who made you feel butterflies?”
“I know you’ll laugh at me for saying that, but once upon a time when we were young and he only had eyes for me, it was real then. I wouldn’t have married him if it weren’t. And I still can’t explain what went wrong...”
“Do you want him back? In some deep part of your heart?”
Renata shook her head slowly. “I want to stop missing him. That’s what I want.”
To stop the pain, the regret, the constant questioning of why one woman couldn’t be enough... “Yeah, I get that,” Melanie said softly.
“You’re lucky you’ve got a nice distraction over there,” Renata said, nodding in Logan’s direction, then she glanced down at her watch. “My break is over.”
“Thanks for the chat,” Melanie said. “I’ll see you tomorrow night for dinner, right?”
“Yes, tomorrow. I’ll be there with bells on,” Renata said with low laugh. “I’ll be in better spirits by then, I promise.”
And Melanie could see why these dinners were so important. No matter how mature or confident a woman was on her good days, she’d always have the bad days where she felt like a failure, like she had nothing left to offer. So maybe this dinner circle wasn’t such a bad idea, after all. Friends who truly understood what divorce was like and wouldn’t judge weren’t so common.
LOGAN CROSSED HIS arms and looked down at his father. Harry was sitting rigidly. His veined hand trembled as he held Logan’s phone in front of him, his watery gaze locked on the screen.
“He doesn’t look like our side, does he? He must take after Caroline,” Harry said.
Our side. That was the first time that Harry had actually included Logan in the familial language.
“Actually, a lot of people say he looks like me,” Logan replied.
“Maybe he takes after your mother, then,” Harry said, and handed the phone back. “You never looked much like me, either.”
Logan put his phone back into his pocket, and he felt that old anger and protectiveness well up inside of him.
“What does it matter who he looks like?” Logan demanded. “He’s my son. He’s your grandson.”
“It’s what people look at,” Harry replied.
“Is that why you hated having me around? What people would say?” Logan asked.
Harry shook his head. “That was a long time ago. And I didn’t hate having you around.”
“It sure seemed that way.”
“I had a family, Logan,” Harry said. “You know what that’s like now.”
“I was your family, too, Dad.” Logan felt his throat tighten.
“Of course, of course,” Harry said, heaving a sigh. “You know what I mean.”
Except he didn’t. And at this point, Logan didn’t even want to ask.
“Dot and your mother had their differences,” Harry went on after a moment of silence. “Elise liked to make her feel dowdy. She could be very cruel.”
“Mom wasn’t mean,” Logan said.
“Your mother should have respected my marriage.” Harry lifted his gaze, and there was a self-righteous glimmer in his eyes.
“She did,” Logan replied. “She didn’t want you back. She just wanted me to have a father.”
“She might not have wanted me back, but she wanted me to take notice of her,” Harry said. “And that hurt Dot deeply. My family with Dot was a choice.”
“And I wasn’t,” Logan said quietly.
“Well, neither was Graham,” Harry chuckled.
Logan bit back a retort and he sucked in a breath, looking for some self-control. “Graham was a surprise, yes, but he’s also the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“And your wife?” Harry asked primly. “Is she in the top five best things, at least?”
“Dad,
