by Jamie Beck
“I’m surprised,” Val said. “I thought you wanted to avoid paying alimony.”
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, especially after our lunch conversation last weekend. About the sacrifices you made. The ways you tried to create a happy home. I didn’t give you my best.” The golden glow lighting the bungalow windows beckoned. What might Steffi do if he knocked on the door? He shifted in his seat and rested one hand on the steering wheel. “But I know and appreciate how hard you tried for so long. You deserve to know that much.”
He didn’t know what response he’d expected, but it hadn’t been silence.
“What would this mean for you and Emmy?” Val finally asked. “Will you be able to afford your own place?”
His gaze veered back to the bungalow. He’d never afford it now. Not that Steffi would even want him to have it after the way he’d handled everything. “I’ll stay with my mom awhile longer. I can probably get a better deal in December when fewer buyers are shopping for beach homes. There are some old places and town houses I might afford once I get my bearings.”
“Ryan.” A long sigh preceded her reply. “There was a time when I wanted to make you suffer because I hurt so much, but I’m letting go of resentment. I didn’t exactly end our marriage respectfully. And I know my choices have made it harder on Emmy and you.”
“We’ll figure things out. She’ll be okay.”
“Truth is, I’m not a great mother. Even from the beginning, part of why I had Emmy was to hold on to you. I do love her, but I’m too needy right now to have enough left over to give her everything she needs. She’s not my little baby doll anymore. She’s growing up. You’re better suited to make sure she’s not insecure like me, especially when it comes to men. And John doesn’t want kids.” A soft sound puffed from her lips, and Ryan almost admired her brutally honest self-assessment. He didn’t totally agree with her, but he believed that she thought she was doing what was best for Emmy. “When he got back from Nebraska, he told me he wants a real commitment once the divorce is final, so I’m going to take the plunge and remarry. You’re off the hook for alimony, but let’s split the assets fifty-fifty. When I start making money, I’ll kick in something for child support.”
He still wouldn’t be able to afford the bungalow if he wanted any money for other things, but he’d take the lucky break. It came on the heels of his other lucky break this week, when Billy found a prostitute willing to testify against O’Malley’s accuser. Now he could get the DA to plea-bargain and bring closure to that case, much like the closure he and Val both needed with their divorce. “Never thought I’d say this—much less mean it—but I really hope you find what you’ve been looking for. What you deserve.”
“I hope you do, too. Even if it’s with Steffi.”
“Thanks.” The word felt thick as it tumbled from his lips. The irony that Val had found love while it still eluded him wasn’t missed.
“I guess we’re really done now.”
Silence settled between them. He didn’t want to remain married to her, yet they’d spent a decade of their lives together. Shared some good times alongside the not-so-good ones. He couldn’t pretend no part of him mourned the life they’d tried to build.
“We’ll never be done. We’ve got a daughter. We’re still a family.” He thought he might’ve heard a sniffle through the line. “You want to speak to Emmy before she goes to sleep?”
“Yes, please.”
“Hang on.” Ryan got out of his car and went inside to find Emmy. “Your mom wants to say good night.”
He handed Emmy the phone and then turned to go upstairs to change. He bumped into his mom and her mammoth basket of laundry near the top of the stairs.
“Let me.” He took the heavy basket of warm, freshly folded clothes from her and walked to her room.
“Thanks, honey. Your dad always disappears whenever I start folding the laundry.” She smiled, then studied him more closely and frowned. “You’ve looked like hell all week. Is Val giving you a hard time?”
“No.” He set the basket on her bed. “Actually, we’ve come to a settlement agreement. She’s been fair. Seems she and John will marry once our divorce is settled.”
“Huh. Well, I guess the good news is that you’ll be able to sort out your finances soon. Maybe you can buy that bungalow, after all. I’m sure Stefanie and Claire will work miracles.” She separated the clothes into piles on her bed, consciously avoiding eye contact. “I’ve missed seeing her this week. She sent one of her employees to do the trim work so she could get a jump on that project.”
He guessed his mom was fishing, but he wouldn’t take the bait.
“She’s got a lot going on.” He started for his room, then turned. “I can’t afford that bungalow, even with the settlement. It’d stretch me too thin, and I want to be able to afford to travel and do other things with Emmy. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to stay here a few months while Emmy gets settled and adjusted. I’ll try to get out of your hair after the holidays.”
His mom opened a dresser drawer and loaded his dad’s boxers inside. “You stay as long as you need. And who knows, maybe that bungalow won’t be too expensive when all is said and done. Have faith.”
Faith. He’d lost that along the way. Failed relationships. A daughter who struggled despite his best efforts. No clear answer on how to help Steffi now that she was refusing his calls.
Emmy wandered into his mother’s room. “Here’s your phone, Dad.”
“Thanks.” He stuffed it into his pocket before he noticed a worried look in her eyes. “Is something wrong?”
Emmy’s gaze darted from him to his mom and back. “Is Miss Steffi mad at me?”
“What?” He sent his mom a questioning gaze, which she answered with a shrug.
“She hasn’t come back in a few days. Doesn’t she like me anymore?”
Shit. His daughter had lost another woman from her life because of him.
Emmy looked so small and vulnerable, but he couldn’t confess the truth. “It’s got nothing to do with you. She’s very busy with lots of projects.”
“Can we go look at the cottage now?” Emmy made puppy-dog eyes at him. “You promised you’d take me one night.”
He shook his head. “She’s busy. We can’t barge in without any warning—”
“She’d love to show you around,” his mom interrupted. “In fact, you could take her some of the cookies we baked this afternoon. I’m sure she needs snacks to keep her energy up.”
“Mom,” Ryan began, then couldn’t get out of it without raising a lot of questions he didn’t want to answer.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake. Go for five minutes.” She strode out of the room. “Come on, Emmy. We’ll put some cookies in a bag.”
Five minutes later, Emmy raced ahead down the lane. He could see her breath fogging in a trail above her head, her curls bouncing with each step.
Meanwhile, his stomach twisted round and round until he thought it might saw through his skin. Steffi would view this intrusion as another ambush, which wouldn’t help anyone.
Emmy dashed up the porch steps and banged on the door. “Miss Steffi, it’s me, Emmy!”
Ryan hung back several feet, leaning against one of the porch columns. Emmy banged on the door again before Steffi opened it.
“Emmy?” She crouched, sparing Ryan the briefest glance. “What’s up?”
“I brought you a snack.” She dangled the bag of cookies as a sort of peace offering.
“Double chocolate chip? My favorite.” Steffi reached for the bag. “That’s very nice. Thanks.”
“You haven’t come back to Memaw’s house all week.” Emmy’s tone sounded almost accusatory. “Dad says you’re not mad at me, but are you?”
“No.” Steffi’s brows drew together. “I’m not mad at you. I’m just finished with your memaw’s project, and now I have new projects. But you can visit me down here after school when you see my van out front—”
He couldn’t stop himself fr
om interrupting. “How’ve you been?”
Her head jerked toward him like an alert bird. “Fine. I’m fine.”
“Can I see this house now?” Emmy craned her neck to see inside.
Steffi cast Ryan an inscrutable look, then said, “Sure. Come take a quick peek.”
“I’ll wait out here,” Ryan said, giving her the space she clearly wanted.
Emmy shrugged off her own confusion from his behavior and followed Steffi inside. A few minutes later, they reappeared at the front door.
“It’s like a dollhouse, Dad.” Emmy bounded toward him like a rabbit. “Everything is small!”
“I know. It’s very cozy.” He looked at Steffi, who remained standing inside the open doorway. Her crossed arms gave a clear signal that he wouldn’t ignore. He did meet her cautious gaze as he said, “Sorry to interrupt you tonight, but thanks. She wanted to see the house—and you.”
Steffi’s nostrils flared, adding another layer to her conflicted expression. “Sure. I’d better get back to work.”
Emmy’s gaze bounced from Steffi to him and back, her own expression growing more puzzled by their stilted behavior.
“Good luck.” Ryan then tugged at Emmy’s shoulder. “We’d better go before we’re late for dinner.”
He looked up, praying Steffi would give him a reprieve. She kept her eyes on his daughter, smiling as she closed the door.
The closed door: a trite and overused metaphor, but apt.
He followed Emmy down the lane, back to his mother’s house. The old sadness he’d grown accustomed to when thinking of Steffi returned, swallowing him whole. Once again, his love and intentions hadn’t been enough.
Past experience told him that once she made up her mind to freeze him out, she wouldn’t break down. She’d move on, so maybe he should, too.
“Dad?” Emmy stopped and spun toward him. “Miss Steffi didn’t smile at you like normal. Did you have a fight?”
He couldn’t lie. “Sort of.”
“Was it because I wasn’t nice at the fair?”
“No!” He hugged her to his side. “It’s grown-up stuff. Nothing to do with you.”
“Promise?” Emmy looked up at him with wary eyes.
“I promise. Nothing that happens between Steffi and me, or your mother and me, for that matter, has anything to do with you. Got it?”
“Got it.”
They walked in silence until they reached his mother’s yard. Then Emmy asked, “Can we see a movie this weekend?”
“Of course.” He squeezed her shoulder.
“Maybe Lisa will want to come.” Emmy skipped to the front door while he covered his excited surprise. Perhaps the scheming he’d done weeks ago had turned into a real friendship. He’d take his wins where he could find them these days, like the plea bargain he and the DA had agreed upon after Billy finally dug up a prostitute willing to testify that O’Malley’s accuser had lied.
“She’s welcome to come. We’ll get an extra-large popcorn and sprinkle M&Ms in it.” He opened the door.
Emmy nodded. “You should ask Miss Steffi to come, Daddy. Then she won’t stay mad at you.”
Ryan glanced back at the cottage. His heart stopped for a second when he thought he saw movement in the window. He squinted, but no one was there. Must’ve been an illusion.
He tipped Emmy’s chin up. “You can’t force people to forgive you, Emmy. You can apologize and hope they do, but if they won’t, you have to accept that maybe things won’t be the same.”
“Like you and Mommy.” Emmy scowled.
“Sort of.” He sighed.
He had no idea what he looked like, but it must’ve been quite pathetic, because Emmy wrapped her arms around his waist. “Don’t be sad. I still love you.”
And just like that, a little ray of warmth shot through his lifeless heart.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Steffi couldn’t stop thinking about Ryan and Emmy. Not when she removed the baseboards from the kitchen. Not when she’d taken a utility knife to the pea-green linoleum flooring. Not when she’d tugged twelve-inch strips of vinyl away from the subfloor. Not even when she had to pull out a hammer and chisel to chip at hardened adhesive.
Regardless of her focus on the tedious task at hand, images kept reappearing to distract and slow her. Ryan standing on the porch. Ryan walking with Emmy along the road. Emmy asking if Steffi was mad at her—that one hurt a new part of her heart she’d never even known existed.
“For God’s sake,” she muttered when tears filled her eyes. Until Monday night, she could count on one hand the number of times she’d wept—maybe two hands. In the past three days, she’d need all her toes and more to keep track.
Her confrontation with Ryan had ripped open the seam that she’d glued together when her mom died, and now all kinds of sorrow and regrets kept oozing out.
After she loaded the strips of linoleum into bags and swept the floor, she hit the lights and called it a night. She stood in the kitchen, replaying the barrage of Emmy’s unending questions.
“Who picked this ugly green floor? Where will all the cabinets go? Will you have a metal sink like Memaw or one of those cool white ones that looks like a bathtub? Will you put a glass door here so you can see the backyard better? Which one would be my room if my dad buys this house? Can we paint it pink, just in case?”
From the beginning, Steffi had envisioned Ryan and Emmy here. Truthfully, she fantasized about living here with them. A little family. A happy one. Having Emmy scurrying around for five minutes renewed that wish, even though she had no idea how to talk to Ryan now. How to forgive him and ask for help at the same time.
But if she didn’t figure it out, then what happened last spring would truly destroy her life. She couldn’t give those men that power. She wouldn’t.
She locked up the home and then drove the van to the other end of the lane and parked in front of the Quinns’ place, every bit as shaky as she had that first day when she’d come to bid on Molly’s project.
Nine o’clock. Not too late.
Steeling herself, she trotted across the lawn and knocked on the door, bracing to see Ryan again. “Different better,” she’d promised. That meant she’d have to find a way to overcome her Lockwood genes and open up to him. Be vulnerable.
She trembled on the stoop.
When the door opened, she came face-to-face with Molly. “Oh, Stefanie. I didn’t expect you. Is something wrong? Didn’t you get the final check?”
“I got the check, thank you,” Steffi assured her. “I just wanted to give the room a once-over. Make sure JT did a good job with the trim.”
Molly’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn’t call Steffi a liar. “Sure. Come on back. The whole thing turned out darling. Claire says the furniture will arrive tomorrow afternoon. I’ll have to invite you girls over for a little housewarming thingy.”
“Hopefully, you’ll bake more of those cookies,” Steffi joked as she followed Molly through the house. Her stomach plummeted in anticipation of running into Ryan, but she didn’t see him anywhere.
Molly turned on the lights in the new room. “I just can’t believe how much space and flow this has added. I might even have to throw a Bunco party or something.”
“I’m so pleased that you love it.” Steffi allowed herself to bask in Molly’s joy. The room had turned out beautifully. She’d seen Claire’s sketches and could envision it furnished. Picture Ryan lounging on the sofa enjoying a Patriots game. See Emmy playing a board game with friends. New tears threatened, but she blinked them back.
“I’ll leave you to your inspection. I’ve got another load of laundry to fold.” Molly patted her shoulder and disappeared.
Steffi turned in circles, wondering why she’d thought it had been a good idea to talk to Ryan here. Or at all. She didn’t know how to do what he wanted, or spill her guts, or ask for help, or have a truly healthy relationship.
She checked a few spots of trim, considering whether or not it’d be rude to sl
ip out without saying goodbye to Molly. The woman had never been an idiot. Surely, she sensed something was off. She muttered, “Double damn, this is a fine mess.”
“Hey,” Ryan said from the kitchen, “are you okay? Sounds like you’re talking to yourself.”
She stopped and shoved her hands in her jacket pockets. “Yeah. I’m good. I mean, I’m not having an episode or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Ryan stepped into the empty room, making it suddenly seem overcrowded. He wore flannel pajama pants and a soft T-shirt. His tousled hair looked enticing, and entire parts of her anatomy sprang to life. Yet, despite the sleepy sexiness of his appearance, he also looked sad. She stifled the urge to slap him and then hold him tight. An amazing feat, given her recent lack of control.
He scratched the side of his nose. “I know you don’t want to listen to anything I have to say, but since you’re trapped at the moment, at least let me apologize for the way I handled everything. I never meant to make things worse for you. Or to tell you how to handle something so personal.” He took another step closer to her. She kept still, wanting him close yet fearing that nearness, too. “I was scared and willing to do anything to try to solve the problem. But I shouldn’t have made it about me or us when it’s clearly about you. I was a giant ass, and I’m truly sorry, Steffi. So I guess now it’s my turn to ask if, despite everything, we can at least be friends. If not for my sake, then for my daughter’s. She’s got a stiff upper lip, but I’m pretty sure she’s missing you.”
“I miss her, too,” Steffi said. “And you.”
His eyes misted. “Do you?”
She nodded, horrified that there were any tears left in her body, and that they wanted to make yet another appearance. “Actually, I didn’t come here to check on the job. I came to tell you something. Claire said something I can’t get out of my head.”
“So you told her everything?”
She glanced away, unable to face the details. “The main points.”