by Olivia Miles
Already this date had potential. And a doctor, a doctor who wore glasses, couldn’t be so bad, could he?
Jane laughed at herself. It wasn’t like the man was going to bite. The worst that could happen was that he didn’t like her. Didn’t find her funny or witty, didn’t smile at her attempt at humor. Didn’t kiss her goodnight.
But did she even want him to kiss her goodnight? She hadn’t thought of that—kissing another man. She hadn’t kissed anyone other than Adam since she was a teenager, and it wasn’t like she’d had much practice before him. She didn’t even know how to kiss, not really. Well, she knew how to kiss Adam, but generally speaking… Oh, God.
She pressed a hand to her stomach. She was getting ahead of herself. She hadn’t even seen the guy yet. She’d know if she wanted him to kiss her once she met him. And if she didn’t… She’d tell him she didn’t kiss on the first date. Perfect.
Jane lurched open the car door and shrugged on her cardigan, feeling Grace’s disapproving frown from halfway across town. A light drizzle had started, and she hurried across the concrete parking lot and up the winding cobblestone stairs to the arched oak door of the brick building that housed Piccolino’s.
Inside, the restaurant was loud and lively, the waiting area crowded with couples. Darting her gaze swiftly over the room and not seeing anyone who matched Brian’s description, Jane inched away from the door just as a cool gush of spring air floated into the room.
She turned, bracing herself for the arrival of her date, but the buzz of the room around her fell silent when she came face-to-face with her husband.
Soon-to-be-ex-husband, she scolded herself.
“Adam!” Her gaze drifted immediately to his left, where Kristy stood, shaking out an umbrella. It was one of the few times Jane had been so close to her; usually when she picked up Sophie after one of Adam’s appointed nights, Kristy stood back in the kitchen instead of coming into the hall to greet her. Now, up close to the other woman—her husband’s mistress, her replacement—she couldn’t stop staring. Kristy’s long blond hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail that looked effortlessly chic; it would only look sloppy if Jane attempted the style. She wore tight jeans and stilettos, with a gray patterned silk top that Jane had eyed in a window on Main Street just last week.
“Hello, Jane,” Adam said.
Without so much as a smile in Jane’s direction, Kristy set her hand on Adam’s arm. “I think our table’s ready, honey.”
Jane felt her breath still as she watched the exchange. She stared into the eyes of the man who was, for all intents and purposes, still her husband—still a part of their little family unit—and felt something within her begin to crack.
The heartache came in waves. At first, when she had discovered Adam was cheating on her, she denied the truth, but as he grew increasingly distant and she felt him slip away, the realization chipped away at her heart, until she was barely holding it together for their daughter’s sake, or for her mother and sisters, who needed her in the wake of her father’s sudden death last spring. When Adam finally admitted the truth and moved out just before Christmas, she felt an odd mix of relief, but it wasn’t until later, in the middle of the night when she woke alone to an empty and quiet house, that she knew the relief wasn’t that he was gone and never coming back. It was that the pain was finally over—that it had reached its limit—and she didn’t have to worry about holding herself together anymore. She just had to focus on healing, and moving forward.
And that’s why she was here, wasn’t it? She was getting on with her life. She was going on a date. In the same restaurant as her husband and his girlfriend.
Jane watched as he walked away, weaving his way through the tables, his fingers placed intimately on the small of Kristy’s back as he guided their path through the crowded restaurant, and the hollowness in her chest began to fill with anger as the distance between them grew larger. He hadn’t even asked about Sophie! Kristy was laughing as he pulled out her chair, and Jane caught the grin on Adam’s face as he sat down beside her, already deep in conversation as he casually picked up the menu and scanned it. It was as if she didn’t exist. As if she wasn’t standing in this room. As if the nearly six years of their marriage had never happened, never mattered. She wasn’t even an old friend. She was just forgotten.
Blinking back tears, Jane headed for the bar, deciding it would be a safer place to wait than here in the open, exposed and raw. She took a seat behind a large arrangement of sunflowers and, remembering Rosemary’s advice, ordered a white wine, without bothering to specify anything more, and then accepted it with a shaking hand, waiting for her pulse to steady.
She eyed the door, almost willing it to open, imagining the look on Adam’s face when she strolled through the dining area, a handsome doctor at her side, her cardigan officially off. She was just getting to the part in the fantasy where Adam’s face would turn ruddy, the way it did when he was especially angry, and where Kristy noticed his reaction and tossed down her napkin with a harrumph and stormed out of the establishment when her phone rang.
She glanced at the caller display. “Rosemary?”
“Are you already at the restaurant?”
Jane frowned. “Yes.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “I didn’t think to give Brian your number, but he just called me. Something came up with a patient. He has to reschedule.”
Panic tightened her chest. Adam would see her leave. Alone. Minutes after he had arrived. The bastard would probably assume she’d fled on account of him.
Jane quickly ended the call and popped the phone back into her bag. She slid the unfinished glass of wine away, slapped a generous tip on the sleek mahogany bar, and forced herself to stand up. Lifting her chin, she marched back to the door, aware of Adam’s presence behind her, somewhere in the bustling crowd of tables.
Her cheeks burned as she pushed through the bar area. She kept her eyes forward, locked on the door, hoping he might think she was just popping into the bathroom, or ducking outside to make a call and check on Sophie. Judging from the way he eagerly leaned into Kristy, she highly doubted his daughter was forefront in his mind.
Adam has reclaimed his life, choosing to continue on without her in it. He was back in the game, out to dinner at the end of a long hard week, looking good and sipping wine, laughing and carefree. While she… she had three loads of laundry to do… of yoga pants and mom jeans.
Outside dusk had fallen. The rain came down in a steady drip, splashing against the stone stairs and making her path slippery. She clung to the rail, cursing her decision to wear these shoes Grace had insisted she borrow, and hurried to the car, not even caring that her hair was sopping by the time she slid inside. She was safe. She was free. And she was utterly alone.
Hot tears mixed with rain wet her face, and she fumbled in the glove compartment for a tissue—she always kept some on hand because that’s what she did. She was responsible. She was a mother. But she wasn’t a wife. Not really.
Her husband was inside that very room, eating dinner with another woman. And her date had stood her up.
She’d told herself she didn’t even want to go on the date, that she’d rather sit at home, eat ice cream, and maybe watch a late movie. That wasn’t true.
She wanted to feel alive. She wanted to get out there, feel special and pretty like Kristy and the dozens of other girls whose laughter had filled that room.
But the sad fact of the matter was that she wasn’t sure anyone could ever make her feel that way. Not like Adam had. Once.
CHAPTER
8
Anna stared at the television screen and realized she hadn’t retained anything that had transpired in the last half hour. It wasn’t exactly riveting stuff, unless you were a four-year-old girl and could call a princess cartoon edge-of-your-seat material, but still she’d hoped to be able to sink into the couch, eat a couple double chocolate fudge brownies, and forget about her troubles for just one night.
> So much for that.
Sophie giggled at something in the movie, and Anna looked over, feeling a familiar range of emotions. It was hard to look at her niece sometimes and not wonder what her own child would have looked like. Would her child have had her own blue eyes and blond hair, or Mark’s darker coloring? She’d always pictured a boy, but sometimes, around Sophie, she thought of the little girl she might have had, and all the things they would have done together. She imagined teaching her child to bake cookies, ride a bike, pump her legs on the swings. In each of her fantasies, she was alone, but she’d never stopped to ask herself the tough question. What would Mark have said if she’d told him about the baby? Would he have wanted it?
Sophie giggled again and Anna smiled sadly.
Grace set her plate on the end table. “Have you given any more thought to that contest?” Anna groaned and turned to her sister, who feigned surprise at her expression. “It seemed like a good idea to me.”
“There’s a lot that would need to go into it,” Anna countered. “Brainstorming ideas, testing recipes…” Spending more time with Mark… An image of that boyish grin popped up and she reached for another brownie, hoping the sweet taste of fudge would override that other pesky temptation. She chewed miserably. Nope.
Anna wiped the corner of her mouth with a napkin and took a long, cool sip of water. Yep. Still there. Even six days later, the heat of last Sunday morning in Mark’s kitchen still lingered. All the more reason to stay away, she decided, but her heart sunk with fresh dread when she caught the time on the clock above the mantel and realized she would have to get up in only five and a half hours if she wanted to get everything made in her single oven before the Annex opened at… nine! Just to add a little more stress, Grace had to go and open early; Anna knew her head was in the right place, but if she had any idea…
“I just can’t stop thinking about that prize money,” Grace pressed. “Think of what you could do with it!”
Anna forced the rest of the brownie into her mouth so she wouldn’t shout out the awful truth. She knew exactly what she would do with that prize money—if she entered the contest.
“It’s almost eight. Jane should be well into her date by now.” Anna perked up at the thought. “I wonder how it’s going.”
An opening and closing of the door to the garage answered that question. Grace turned to her, frowning, her green eyes asking a hundred questions that matched Anna’s own confusion.
“Mommy’s home!” Sophie sprang from the couch and dashed out of the room.
Mommy. It was a name Anna had never been called, and now probably never would.
Anna slowly followed Grace into the kitchen, where Sophie was chatting excitedly. “We had brownies—four each, but I wasn’t supposed to tell—and I got chocolate milk, too. Aunt Grace said it’s sometimes okay to eat dessert before dinner, especially if you’re feeling sad. Did you know Auntie Anna was sad? Are you going to have a pizza party with us?”
Jane looked up, her expression frozen somewhere between bemusement and confusion, and set her handbag on the counter with a sigh. “I’d love to have a pizza party. Did you by any chance save a brownie for me?”
Sophie blinked guiltily and then cried, “Anna ate the last one! She gobbled it all up.”
Anna raised a hand, offering a wry grin. “Guilty as charged. I can make another batch, though. We hadn’t expected you so soon.”
Jane shook her head. “Don’t bother; pizza will be fine. First, I’m going to change into something more comfortable.” Her smile didn’t quite meet her eyes as she took Sophie’s hand and disappeared into the hall.
By the time she reemerged in sweats and an old cotton T-shirt, the pizza had arrived and a bottle of wine was uncorked and ready. Jane smiled and laughed as she helped Sophie cut a corner slice, but her eyes were red, and Anna thought she detected a noticeable quiver in her hands.
They ate and talked as if nothing was amiss, and both Grace and Anna knew better than to pry in front of Sophie. When the last of the meal was polished, and Sophie began rubbing her eyes, Jane called it a night.
“She wants to be alone,” Grace observed as they stepped onto the stoop a few minutes later.
“That’s what has me worried,” Anna agreed. The rain had stopped, and the spring air smelled sweet. Somewhere in the darkness, crickets croaked, and a breeze rustled through the new leaves. Anna shivered and rubbed her bare arms, wishing she’d worn a sweater. “Something tells me there’s a lot more below the surface.”
I should know. No one would ever know the secrets she harbored, the heartache she’d experienced. She kept it bottled up in a neat little package, her own private pain. Somehow it was easier that way; somehow letting it out there, sharing the hurt, would only give it power, make the entire situation impossible to tuck away again. To forget.
“Something tells me Jane will land on her feet,” Grace said. “She has Sophie, at least.”
There was that pang again.
Anna pushed the hurt aside and waved as she walked to her own car, hating the thought of going home to her dark, empty apartment. Grace had found a good guy, a guy she’d no doubt be meeting tonight. Even though she and Luke had drifted apart for more than five years, somehow, in spite of it all, they’d found a way back to each other. The same wouldn’t be true of Jane and Adam, though. Or her and Mark.
Deciding that was just about enough thinking about Mark for one night, Anna flicked on her headlights and pulled out of the driveway, humming to the radio as she steered through the winding residential streets. The houses sat serenely back from the road, a soft glow illuminating a handful of windows, most of which were filled with families, young parents who were probably tucking their children into bed, looking forward to a quiet evening after a long hard day.
Mark hadn’t seemed to want a family. She didn’t know for certain; they’d never gotten that far. But judging from his behavior, he wasn’t looking to settle down. Not with her. Not with anyone. Maybe it was easier that way.
Frowning, she took a sharp right at Mountain Road and slammed on her brakes as something dodged in front of her car. She gasped, heart pounding, and stared at the golden retriever who now stood at the edge of the road. It blinked into the glow from the headlights and then lowered its head before slowly walking away.
Shifting the gear into park, Anna quickly unhooked her seat belt and climbed out of the car, careful not to make a noise that would scare the poor creature away. The dog stopped walking and stared at her as she took a step forward, and then another, willing him not to run. The woods were deep and dark; if she made a mistake, she might never grab him. She stepped on a twig, wincing as it snapped, and hurried forward. Her breath escaped her when her fingers took hold of the nylon collar. She had him.
“There you go,” she said, crouching down to inspect the tag. The dog was friendly and didn’t resist her touch as she stroked his back. “Let me just see your tag. Hold still, buddy.”
She bent down closer, trying to make out the carved letters and numbers on the set of metal tags. “Scout, huh? That’s a good, solid name.” She grinned and flipped the tag over, but her relief quickly turned to alarm when she saw the contact information.
So much for avoiding Mark for the rest of the week.
Scout insisted on sitting in the front seat, even though she had let him into the back, and more than once he had tried to climb into her lap—while she was turning. When that failed, he pawed at her hands, causing her to accidentally honk the horn, which in turn elicited a watchful yelp. Right in her ear.
Finally she had no choice but to allow his head on her knee, and she idly stroked his soft fur as she pulled off the road and began the slow ascent to Mark’s house. Gravel crunched under her tires as she slowed to a stop in front of the renovated cabin. Anna stared into the windows, at the warm glow of the rooms beyond, wondering if Mark had heard her approach.
Cursing under her breath, she flicked off the engine and climbed out—a tricky feat
as Scout pounced with excitement, nearly knocking her over as he jumped from the car and ran to the front door. His head arched back as he gave two loud barks, announcing his arrival.
Anna couldn’t help but grin, but trepidation quickened her pulse as she hesitated near the base of the front porch that wrapped around the house. The door swung open, and Mark stood in the shadows of the porch light, barefoot and holding a beer. She raked her gaze over his well-worn jeans, and the white cotton shirt that clung to his broad chest, resenting the way her stomach tightened with longing.
The crickets were louder in this rural stretch, and fireflies flickered in the darkness. It was too quiet, too remote for Anna’s liking, making her all too aware that they were alone.
“How’s my boy?” Mark asked good-naturedly. He squatted and Scout jumped up, licking his face while Mark grinned and gave him a good rub.
“I found him over on Mountain Road.” Anna’s voice cut through the night air. She shifted on her feet, darting her eyes to Mark as he rolled back on his heels and stood.
Confusion creased his features, pulling at his brow, and he frowned down at Scout. “You wandered off, little guy?”
Oh, for God’s sake. “He was a solid mile from here.”
Mark had the nerve to look perplexed. He glanced from her to Scout. “Huh.”
“He could have been hurt,” she snapped. “It’s dark out there. There’s no telling what’s in those woods.”
He gave her a lazy grin; one that might have once made her go all warm and tingly. “Well, lucky for us, you came along.”
“Seems you’re about as careless with pets as you are with women.” She glared at him, feeling the rise and fall of her chest as her heart pounded against her rib cage. Possibly she’d overstepped, but she didn’t care. Scout was a sweet dog. She hated to see him meet the same fate she had.
Mark’s jaw tensed, and in the dim light she saw his stance change. Through lowered brows, he speared her with a look. “The latch on the fence is loose. I was inside for all of fifteen minutes looking for the right tools to fix it. I even propped the gate with some firewood to make sure it stayed closed. Check for yourself if you don’t believe me.”