by Jamie Beck
Ryan came closer. “You look tired.”
Unlike her, he looked composed.
“I’m fine.” Steffi attempted a smile.
“I spent the night thinking about how our date ended.” He hesitated. “It’s something we need to talk more about. If you can’t talk to me . . . maybe a professional . . .”
A professional? What the hell was he pushing that for? Fortunately, the horn honked from out front, saving Steffi from having to discuss shrinks. “You’d better go. I don’t like your chances against two impatient women.”
She hoped joking hid her disappointment that Val wasn’t letting Ryan go without one last fight. Normally, she wouldn’t be intimidated. The difference here was that Emmy wanted her family back together. Just like he had moments ago, Ryan might capitulate because that little girl was the one true love of his life. The only person he could still open his entire heart to.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said, breaking her train of thought.
“I’m not thinking anything,” she fibbed.
He crossed his arms, sighing. “We were pretty honest with each other last night. Let’s not backtrack.”
“Okay. What am I thinking, Ryan?”
“You think Val’s here today to save our marriage and I’m going to let her.”
Steffi shrugged. “I wouldn’t blame you. I saw Emmy’s face just now—the hope and thrill of being with you both again. After last night, you can’t possibly think I’m worth the death of your little girl’s dream.”
“That’s a dramatic take on things. Val’s here because she wants to see Emmy. Messing with you and me—that’s just a bonus she got for her effort this morning.”
“I know this might be hard for you to believe, but you could be wrong.”
“About Val?” He grimaced like she’d suggested the absurd. “I know her a lot better than you do.”
“She really loved you, Ryan. More than you loved her.” She spread another batch of mud along a seam. “That’s a painful kind of love.”
“Trust me, I know exactly how that feels.”
As if she needed that reminder. “That’s not exactly fair.”
“It’s just the truth.” He shrugged.
As much as she wanted to renew their relationship, she wouldn’t stand for constant reminders of her mistakes. “The truth isn’t some flag you can wave to excuse making me feel shitty again. It’s not fair to keep throwing our past in my face. Everything that happened before August shouldn’t matter. We either start with a clean slate and trust each other, or we don’t start at all.”
Probably the latter, given the way the past twelve hours had been going.
The car horn blasted again.
“I’ve got to go.” He stared at her. “We’ll talk later.”
She watched him leave, disappointed that he hadn’t tried to touch or kiss her.
Determined to finish the job before he and Emmy returned, she vigorously applied mud to the corner joints.
“Stefanie?” Molly called out from the kitchen before she appeared in the archway.
“What?”
“Your mother would be very proud of the way you stand up for yourself.” She turned to go, then rested her hand on the trim and glanced back. “My son is guarded, but he’s not hardened. Not yet, anyway. I hope you don’t give up on him.”
Emmy dashed ahead on the sidewalk and swung open the door to Campiti’s. “Here we are, Mommy. Just like I told you. Look at that painting.” She smothered giggles with her hands after pointing at the mediocre mural.
“I remember this place,” Val replied, then muttered, “I think you gain five pounds just from walking through the door.”
She could stand to gain ten pounds and would still be thinner than most. Not that he cared. In fact, this might be the only time in his entire life that he hadn’t enjoyed coming to this restaurant. He had no idea what Val had said to Steffi, but judging from Steffi’s attitude, their conversation hadn’t been pleasant. He’d made matters worse by letting his irritation with Val spill over onto Steffi.
“Sit next to me, Mommy.” Emmy scooted onto the hard prefab booth bench. “Do you like cherry soda?”
“I’ll stick with seltzer, thanks, honey.” Val scanned the menu, which was printed on the paper place mats.
Two salad sides—garden and Caesar—neither of which were particularly great. She turned it over, frowning in her search for better options.
“Can I order chicken or salmon over a salad?” She flattened the menu on the table again.
“Salmon?” Emmy shook her head. “Mommy, this is a pizza place, not a real restaurant. You have to eat pizza. But don’t worry. It’s really good.”
Val’s pretty smile appeared when she wound an arm around their daughter’s shoulders and squeezed her before kissing the top of her head. “Okay. I’ll try the pizza.”
For just a second, Ryan’s heart stuttered. Several months ago, he might’ve enjoyed being here with his wife and daughter. He’d wanted to keep his family together, despite his heart yearning for that elusive deeper connection. Now, staring at them from across the table, he mourned the loss anew. From now on, he’d be stuck trading off holidays and birthdays and vacations with his daughter. He and Val would each miss out on days, weeks, or more of Emmy’s life.
The reality of divorce hit him this way, in little waves, whenever he saw an old photo or remembered a happy moment. He wondered if other divorced couples experienced the loss that way, too, and if it would fade in time.
Val tickled Emmy’s nose. “Now tell me, what have you been up to? Any more sailing trips?”
“No. But tomorrow’s not a workday, right, Daddy? We could go tomorrow! We could take Mommy, and I can work the tiller.” Emmy’s trusting Cindy Lou Who smile cast him as the Grinch, because he had no intention of sailing with Val. She, not he, had called it quits. He shouldn’t have to entertain her and her games now.
“I’m sure your mom has to get back to Boston tonight, honey.” He then held his hand up to signal for the waiter. “An extra-large pepperoni, well done, two Cherikee Reds and a seltzer, and . . .” He gestured to Val in case she wanted a salad.
“The garden salad, please.” She offered the young waiter that gorgeous smile, which flustered the kid, as she probably hoped it would.
She constantly sought reassurance of her attractiveness, especially from other men, like John. Her flirtations had always angered him because of the disrespect, but maybe Steffi was right. Maybe she’d been desperate to provoke him because she hadn’t known how else to secure his attention.
He’d lain awake many nights wishing to love her more. Searching his heart for whatever it was that was missing, and hating the little voice that whispered the name of the ghost he’d never quite escaped. The first love who now wanted a second chance. A woman who also might still be keeping one foot out the door, whether that was intentional or because she wouldn’t—or couldn’t—address her problem.
“I don’t want to foist anything on you, but John’s actually in Nebraska on unexpected business, so I don’t need to rush back to Boston,” Val said.
It took Ryan a second to remember what they’d been discussing before the waiter arrived and his mind had wandered. “What’s in Nebraska?”
Val waved her hand. “Some Berkshire Hathaway board thing . . . I don’t know.”
Ah yes. The rich and famous movers and shakers of the world. People Ryan had never been particularly impressed by. Certainly not as much as they seemed to be impressed with themselves, anyway.
“Yay!” Emmy practically bounced out of her seat. “Mommy can have a sleepover!”
Ryan loved his daughter, but not enough to spend the rest of this day with Val, let alone another one. And if Val was angling for some kind of reconciliation, it’d be kinder not to do something she might misconstrue as an opening. “Actually, Emmy, I had planned to surprise you tomorrow. There’s a big fair called Oktoberfest in a nearby town. It’ll have rides and g
ames and crafts and stuff.”
Emmy pouted. “Can Mommy come to the fair with us?”
“Well, actually, the fair was Steffi’s idea. She invited us to go with her. I just hadn’t had a chance to talk to you about it yet.” He harbored some doubt about the impulsive decision, but he needed to draw a line in the sand with these two so there’d be no misunderstanding.
Val’s friendly expression cooled considerably. “I’m sorry, Emmy. But you’ll have fun. You’re always saying how much you like Miss Steffi.”
“I’d rather go with you, Mommy.” Emmy played right into Val’s hands.
“Thanks, sweetie. Maybe another time.” Val hugged Emmy. “I don’t want to ruin your father’s plans.”
And just like that, she’d made him the bad guy.
“But we see Miss Steffi every day. We never see Mommy,” Emmy begged.
The waiter delivered the food and drinks, giving Ryan time to remove the knife from his heart and collect his wits.
Across the table, Emmy sat with her chin on her fists, frowning. Beside her, Val stroked her hair and snuggled her, whispering something in her ear. He rubbed his sternum, but his esophagus still burned. Val glanced at him, a question in her eyes. He could not let her manipulate him—or their child—to suit her own agenda. It wouldn’t help Emmy to hold on to a fantasy about her family when he knew he couldn’t give her what she wanted.
In fact, protecting Emmy from his feelings for Steffi could be a mistake. If she saw him moving on like she saw her mother with John, she’d have to start accepting her new reality.
“Don’t you think it would hurt Steffi’s feelings if, after she invited us to join her, we went with your mom instead?” He watched Emmy chew on the inside of her cheeks as her frown deepened. “I bet you don’t want to do that after how nice she’s been to you, do you?”
“No.” Emmy was shifting in her seat in a way that told him she was swinging her legs back and forth like a pendulum. Her brows gathered together while she thought of another solution. “What if we all go together? That way no one has to ride alone.”
Val stabbed a forkful of salad and remained silent, leaving him to do all the heavy lifting.
“That would be awkward for the grown-ups, princess. I’m sorry. If your mom had called me in advance, perhaps we could have planned something different. But I can’t rearrange our schedule at the last minute.”
Emmy sat back and crossed her arms, glowering. Ryan ignored the tantrum and pushed a slice of pizza in front of her. She picked at it, having lost interest in the food or in knowing whether Val liked it.
Ryan refrained from lecturing her about being melodramatic, because that would give Val another opportunity to make him the “bad cop.”
“I have to go to the bathroom,” Emmy announced. Val got up to let Emmy scoot off the bench and disappear around the corner.
Ryan chewed his slice in silence, unable to enjoy the salty cheese or crispy pepperoni today. He noticed that Val hadn’t eaten much more than he’d managed. He couldn’t take the gamesmanship for another second. “For Emmy’s sake, I’m putting on a happy face today, but what’s going on? Did you and John fight?”
“No. I told you. He’s in Nebraska, so I decided to come down to see my daughter.”
He leaned forward, elbows on the table like he usually scolded Emmy for doing. “With no warning?”
“I wanted to see you and meet the infamous Steffi. If I’d warned you, you might’ve made yourselves scarce,” she admitted without remorse.
He tossed his napkin on the table. “You do see how manipulative that is, right?”
“Yes.” She folded her hands on the table. “I see everything clearly, don’t worry.”
“I’m trying to have an amicable divorce and keep our daughter as happy as possible.” He shook his head. “What do you want from me?”
“I don’t know. Maybe some insight into why I was never enough for you. Or maybe I’m here to make sure of my feelings so I don’t do to John what you did to me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He sat back against the booth.
“I broke our vows, but you broke my heart a million times before then. I know you didn’t mean to, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Now I’m not sure I can trust my heart. I don’t want to wake up down the road and find out that John is just a substitute, like I was for Steffi. He deserves better, and so do I.”
Emmy bounded back toward the table. He could’ve kissed her for her good timing, because Val’s last response left him reeling. He’d had the growing sense of his own role in the divorce, but he’d never thought that his doubts had been so obvious or that he’d cut Val so deeply. Had he really done such damage without realizing it? If so, he’d been almost as selfish and hurtful as Steffi had been.
“I’m sorry,” he said, staring at Val and hoping she understood the full weight of his words. He then took out his wallet and threw down forty bucks. “I think I’ll let you ladies enjoy the rest of the afternoon together. I can walk home. It’d be great if you could bring Emmy home by nine.”
“Sounds wonderful.” Val forced a smile, but he knew she wasn’t happy. She spoke to Emmy, who’d resumed pouting. “We’ll shop and get manicures and maybe go someplace fancy for dinner. How’s that sound?”
Emmy leaned into her mother, resting her head on Val’s shoulder. She looked so very young and sad that Ryan’s heart actually constricted. “Good, Mommy.”
“Have fun.” Ryan would’ve kissed Emmy goodbye, but she’d molded herself to Val’s body so that it would’ve required him to hug Val, too. Any other day he wouldn’t have hugged Val for a variety of reasons, but today he avoided it because of guilt. “I’ll see you later.”
He exited the shop and strode down Main Street, barely noticing the cars or pedestrians. Sunshine beat down on him like a spotlight on all his mistakes. Deep down he’d known—as he’d confessed to Steffi—that he’d never given Val his all. What he hadn’t known was that he’d been so transparent. That, on an ongoing basis, she’d known and suffered that bitter rejection of never being quite good enough.
That he’d never fallen completely in love with Val for his family’s sake was bad enough. But even that shameful confession didn’t compare with the darker truth of his heart. Despite everything—including his daughter’s dearest wish—he’d rather risk another heartbreak with Steffi than force himself back into a relationship that had never truly satisfied Val or him.
He supposed the only good thing to come of lunch was the answer to the litmus test Steffi had thrown at him this morning. He pulled out his phone and called her. When she didn’t answer, he left a message. “Steffi, it’s Ryan. I’m sorry about earlier. You were right. Clean slate it is. I’d love to go to Oktoberfest tomorrow with you and Emmy. Call me later, please.”
Chapter Eighteen
Steffi and Ryan walked one step behind Emmy, who trudged through the fairground with all the enthusiasm of a man on death row. She passed by the Magic Carpet ride with nary a pause. Her sky-high cone of cotton candy went mostly uneaten. And then there was the litany of complaints. “I’m hot.” “It’s crowded.” “My new shoes are giving me blisters.”
One day with her mother and Emmy had forsaken the pants and sneakers she’d been wearing lately in favor of a flouncy dress, tights, and hair ribbons. Steffi’s erstwhile shadow had vanished overnight as if it never existed, leaving a fine tear in her heart.
Ryan had forewarned Steffi of Emmy’s disappointment in his sending Val home. If his daughter’s mood persisted today, he might rethink his priorities. After the disaster of their first date, Steffi couldn’t afford another strike.
As they ambled around the gaming booths, the milk-bottle toss caught her eye.
“Hold up!” Years of goalie training gave her exceptional arm strength and aim, so she tossed five dollars on the counter and waited for her three softballs, determined to win a supersize stuffed toy. It might not win Emmy over
, but it should get her to stop pouting for five minutes. “I used to be awesome at this.”
“Is that your way of challenging me?” Ryan teased, his hands still on his daughter’s shoulders.
“Nope. If I recall, your aim isn’t any better than my singing.” Steffi chuckled before she elbowed Emmy. “If I knock them all down, which prize do you want?”
Emmy shrugged, barely meeting her gaze.
She’s a young kid nursing a broken heart; she’s just a kid who misses her mom.
She touched Emmy’s shoulder. “I know it’s hard to let your heart get set on something you might not win.” She didn’t look at Ryan, who must’ve recognized the sentiment he’d mentioned more than once this fall. “You’ll see, though. I’m pretty much a sure thing. My strength never fails me.”
Except once.
An uncomfortable shiver awakened the hairs along her neck, but she snatched a softball and took aim. Despite Emmy’s pretense of nonchalance, Steffi caught her watching from beneath her lashes, her lower lip caught in her teeth.
Steffi said a silent prayer, wound up, and then pitched the ball. Although she landed a direct hit in the sweet spot, one bottle remained standing. She suspected the game was rigged with one heavy bottle. The carnival worker reset the two capsized bottles in the exact same spots.
She turned to Emmy. “Okay, did you see which two went down?”
Emmy nodded.
Steffi stood back and let another one fly, again hitting the triangle where the three bottles connected. Once more, two went down while the same one remained upright.
“Hey,” Steffi said to the booth worker while pointing at the standing milk jug, “I think that bottle is heavier than the others.”
“No, ma’am,” he said, but his neck broke out in red splotches.
“Then you won’t mind switching it out with the top one from that other set?”
The guy looked a little stunned, but Ryan gave him a stern look, so he did it. “Sure thing, ma’am.”