To Love a Cop

by Janice Kay Johnson

  The wedding was going to be simple, and soon. No later than the middle of October, they’d agreed. Ethan was already moving his stuff into her house and living with her and Jake.

  The upcoming wedding—this was the middle of September already—was one of the reasons she’d accepted this invitation. Her relationship with the Vennetti family felt unresolved, and with the issue of whether she could forgive them tied up with her need to forgive herself, she’d decided it was time.

  The curtain behind the front window twitched.

  “Mom?” Jake sounded nervous verging on panic.

  From somewhere, she found a smile. “Let’s do it.”

  “Do we have to?”

  Her smile became more natural. “Come on, what’s the worst thing that can happen?”

  “Uncle Tino can punch you. And then Ethan would punch him.”

  Ethan chuckled. “I think we’re past the stage where punches are likely to be thrown. But your mom’s right. The worst that can happen is a little blood, maybe a broken tooth, a black eye or two...” He shrugged, grinning when she gave him a look.

  “The worst is, your grandmother will say something nasty to me, I’ll say something even nastier back, and we’ll stomp out,” Laura said. “And if that happens, so what?”

  Jake thought about it. “Yeah,” he decided. “So what?”

  They marched up the walkway as a family. Halfway to the house, Laura saw the front door open. It was Tino who stepped out to greet them, his arm slung over Nick’s shoulder.

  “Thank you for coming,” he said. “Nick’s been looking forward to this.”

  Nick rolled his eyes in typical, adolescent boy fashion. Laura hid a grin.

  “Thanks for inviting us,” she said, mounting the steps. “Tino, you haven’t officially met Ethan Winter.”

  “Detective.” Tino held out a hand; the two men shook.

  Shame on her, she liked the way Ethan dominated any other man physically. In this case...the thought was disconcerting because Tino was an older version of Matt. But she let the brief pang of guilt go. She was learning to be easier on herself.

  Tino swept them inside. Jake stuck close to his mom and Ethan as they entered the living room, where an older couple rose from their seats on the sofa.

  Both stared at Jake with a stunned intensity. Jake’s shoulder bumped hers as he edged closer yet. Laura wanted to say, You could have watched him grow up, but kept her mouth shut. She was oddly disturbed to see how much both had aged. More than they should have in the intervening six and a half years since she’d seen them, she thought. They’d become old. Maybe losing a son and a grandson did that to you.

  “Palma.” She nodded. “Bruno. This is my son, Jake, and my fiancé, Detective Ethan Winter.”

  Their gazes moved in unison to first her face, then Ethan’s.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Vennetti,” he said in his easy way. “Make it Ethan, please.”

  Jake squared his shoulders. “You’re my grandparents.”

  “Yes,” Mama said. “Your cousins call us Grandmama and Grandpapa.”

  He nodded but made no commitment. Laura was proud of the poise he was showing. He’d grown up a lot these past four or five months, since Ethan had corralled him at the gun show. He was still in counseling, but about a month ago he’d told her with much the same composure that she could throw away his collection of gun magazines. Then he’d grinned wickedly.

  “I mean, recycle them.”

  Now, Mama asked, “Will you sit with us? Tell us about yourself? What you like and don’t like?”

  He politely agreed, but chose a chair that left some space between him and these strangers who wanted to pretend they hadn’t turned their backs on him, his father and his mother.

  That’s not charitable, Laura reminded herself. They’d been angry and grieving. Marco’s father, also their son, had needed them to stand for his loss.

  Trusting that her surprisingly grown-up son could handle the situation, Laura took the scalloped potatoes she’d brought to the kitchen, glad when Ethan chose to stay with Jake. He’d be sure everything was okay before he left Jake on his own. Nick and Tino stayed behind, too, she noticed.

  Tino’s wife, Renata, and she had become more comfortable with each other when they made arrangements for the two boys to get together. Even with none of the rest of the extended family there, the kitchen was noisy and chaotic. Tino and Renata had six children, most of whom seemed to be chasing each other through the house.

  “What a crowd,” she exclaimed. “I don’t know how you do it.”

  Renata laughed. “The big ones help with the little ones. Don’t tell Mama,” she lowered her voice, “but we think we’re done with our family. Enough is enough.”

  Rebellion in the ranks. “Not a word,” Laura said with a smile. “Is there anything I can do to help with dinner?”

  Renata accepted her offer, and along with the two oldest of her daughters worked to get dinner on the table.

  “They’re beauties, Gianna and Maddalena,” Laura told her in a quiet moment, when they’d been left alone in the kitchen.

  “Yes, I think they get that from Tino’s side. Me, I was never that pretty. But have you seen pictures of Mama when she was young?”

  “I’d forgotten, but she was beautiful, wasn’t she?”

  “Your Ethan, he’s a handsome man,” Renata added in an undertone, just as one of her daughters burst back into the kitchen with a question.

  Eventually the whole family gathered at the long mahogany table in the dining room. Mama, of course, took pride of place at one end, while Tino, the man of the house, sat at the other. Laura saw the flicker of amusement in Ethan’s eyes as he took in the arrangement before politely holding Laura’s chair for her, then sitting beside her. He’d heard enough of her stories about Mama.

  Mama grilled him as the serving dishes made the rounds, and then moved on to Laura, asking about her job and the wedding.

  “And then there will be more grandchildren!” she declared.

  The corner of Ethan’s mouth turned upward. He was watching Jake, who now looked hideously embarrassed. Not like he didn’t know Ethan and his mom shared a bed and probably did “stuff,” but the idea of his mother swelling with pregnancy still horrified him.

  A reaction he was going to have to get over, because she and Ethan had agreed to work on the getting pregnant thing as soon as the wedding was over. She didn’t want to be changing diapers when she sent her oldest off to college.

  “Maybe,” she said now, realizing Mama’s commanding stare was turned her way.

  After that, dinner passed pleasantly enough. Laura began to think they might get away without her having any kind of confrontation with Mama.

  But, no.

  With dessert over, Laura stood automatically with Renata to start clearing the table, but Mama rose, too, and seized her arm. “Laura, you and I need to talk. Renata has her girls for this.”

  No surprise, the boys weren’t expected to help in the kitchen any more than the girls would be asked to mow the lawn or rake the leaves that had fallen from the big maple in the back yard.

  Ethan grimaced with sympathy, but stayed behind when Laura let herself be steered into the living room.

  “Your Jacob, he seems to be a fine boy,” Mama said, sitting and gesturing Laura to do the same.

  No thanks to you. More words Laura choked back.

  “Yes.”

  “And he likes Ethan?”

  “Very much. Ethan has been good for him.”

  Mama inclined her head, crowned with dark braids streaked with gray. “A boy needs a father.”

  “He’s...struggled without Matt.”

  “It was wrong of us, what we did.” Brown eyes darkened with unmistakable pain met Laura’s. And then she said something Laura had never expected. “I understand if you can’t forgive us for what we did. I know what I said to you, but I have not forgiven myself. I’m grateful you let us see our grandson. Our Matteo’s boy.” Her face
contorted.

  In that moment, Laura found in her heart the ability to take the first step to letting go of her bitterness.

  “I can.” She had to swallow. “I was angry at Matt, too. So angry. Now I wish... I wish...” And suddenly tears blurred her vision.

  “That Matteo knew you had let the anger go?” Mama’s voice was unwontedly soft. “I believe he does. I believe God forgives, too.”

  Laura wiped her cheeks. “I hope you’re right.”

  A silence while they studied each other felt almost comfortable. It was Mama who broke it.

  “The two boys, they look like brothers.”

  “Yes.” Laura managed a smile. “Jake takes after his father.”

  “He is a Vennetti.”

  “Yes.” Laura had a sudden, vivid picture of Matt, hoisting his young son into the air, grinning with joy and pride, and she said again, “Yes. He’s definitely a Vennetti.”

  Ethan came looking for her shortly thereafter, his expression questioning, and then relaxing as he seemed to find what he sought in her face.

  “Time to go?” he murmured, and she nodded.

  But when she called Jake, he appeared with Nick at his side.

  “Can I stay here tonight?” he begged. “Aunt Renata says you can pick me up after work tomorrow. So I don’t have to go to Aunt Jenn’s.”

  Tino smiled and nodded.

  What could she say? “Well...I suppose so. Do you need me to come back with your toothbrush and pajamas? Oh, and clean clothes for tomorrow?”

  “I can throw what he’s wearing in the washer,” Renata offered, appearing beside her husband. “And we have extra toothbrushes.”

  So she and Ethan left alone.

  “And so it begins,” she mumbled just as he unlocked the Yukon with his remote.

  He glanced at her. “What begins?”

  “The Vennettis.”

  He laughed at her. “This time around, they’ll have to compete with the Winters.”

  Reassured by the reminder that his parents had definitely claimed Jake as their grandchild, Laura smiled. “Just think, a night alone.”

  “Want to go dancing?” he teased, opening the passenger door for him.

  Intentionally provocative, she brushed against his big body as she went to get in. “Nope. I just want to go home.”

  His eyes had darkened. “You and me both, sweetheart. I can’t think of anything better.”

  “Me, either,” she whispered, even though he’d slammed her door and wouldn’t hear. Her heart felt light. It was the most astonishing feeling. And no, it wouldn’t always be this easy, but thanks to Ethan she’d been able to let go of so much anger and pain. And because she had, so had Jake.

  “I love you,” she told him when he got in behind the wheel.

  He gave her a quick, understanding look. “Ditto,” he said, and started the engine.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from MY WAY BACK TO YOU by Pamela Hearon.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  NINETEEN DOLLARS...AND a divorce.

  That was what the green jersey knit palazzo pants outfit ended up costing Maggie Russell in the long run, even though it had been on sale.

  Of course, the purchase was frivolous. But, at the time, it represented the chance to step out of motherhood for a night and feel sexy again, an opportunity to celebrate turning twenty-one and finally reaching legal age despite the fact she was already married and the mother of a one-year-old.

  More importantly, it was the perfect way to shove in Jeff’s face that he couldn’t control every single teeny tiny aspect of her life—and every penny she spent.

  He couldn’t control her.

  At least, that had been the plan.

  Instead, they’d gotten into a hellacious argument because her purchase overdrew their account. Jeff had yelled about her irresponsibility. She’d cried about his insensitivity. He’d stormed out, and she’d taken little Russ and run home to Mama and Daddy—all the way next door.

  That fight had been the one that put her and Jeff over their limit—not that they’d ever specified a number. In fact, it was actually the same argument rehashed so many times they had the lines perfected and didn’t need to go through the whole thing again. Everything had been said countless times before. And nothing said was heard. Nothing said was listened to. Not even fabulous makeup sex could assuage the deep-seated anger, frustration and hurt of not being understood. Not this time.

  Two months later they filed for divorce. Six months after that, the decree was finalized—three weeks after Russ turned two.

  Sometimes, during flights of fancy, usually during the summers when Russ left her in Taylor’s Grove, Kentucky, to visit his dad in California, she’d allow herself to wonder what would’ve happened if she’d never spent that nineteen dollars? What if she hadn’t accidentally gotten pregnant at nineteen? What if...?

  “Mom, you need to get over. You’re about to miss the exit.” Russ’s impatient tone jerked her back to the present and across two lanes of traffic. She may have taught their son to drive, but the backseat stuff was all Jeff, the control freak.

  “Jeez, where were you, anyway?” A grin accompanied Russ’s eye roll, the combination perfected by the time he’d turned eleven.

  “Just thinking about when you were little.” She reached out and ruffled the top of his wavy black hair, a mournful sigh escaping her lips. “Here you are, going off to college, but in my mind’s eye you’re still eight instead of eighteen.”

  A brief look of panic shot from his black-as-coffee eyes. “You’re not gonna cry again, are you?”

  “Only about this traffic.” She flipped on the blinker and nosed the car into the bumper-to-bumper line of vehicles inching down the ramp to Chicago’s O’Hare International.

  Russ’s panicked look may have been an overreaction but not totally ungrounded. His senior year of high school had been a rough one for Maggie. As each of his activities came to an end, she bawled her way through the ordeal of Senior Nights, and when his name was called at graduation she blubbered aloud.

  Her baby. Seven hours away from home. All by himself in this city of three million people. Her heart squeezed, and she felt the familiar pang she’d first noticed when she read the positive pregnancy test nineteen years ago and had reiterated itself on a daily basis ever since. Her dad’s sage words followed on its heels. The nine months before aren’t the problem, he’d say. It’s the ninety-nine years after that kill you.

  No doubt about it, saying goodbye once parent orientation ended two days from now might just do her in.

  The only good part about that ominous event was that it made today’s excursion to pick up her ex-husband, whom she hadn’t seen in person since Russ’s kindergarten graduation, pale in comparison.

  Russ’s phone beeped, and he glanced at the text. “Dad says he’s curbside at Terminal 1.”

  “Tell him traffic’s awful, and we’ll be there as soon as we can.”

  “You gotta be more aggressive, Mom.” Russ’s thumbs flew on the tiny keyboard as he talked. “Quit letting people in ahead of you. We could be there by now.”

  Quite a way up the road, Maggie spotted the Terminal 1 sign and started easing her way over to the far right-hand lane. “Two months of driving in San Diego each summer makes you the e
xpert in city traffic, huh?”

  “Well...yeah, actually.” Russ shrugged and shot her a mischievous grin. “Or maybe I’m just more anxious to see Dad than you are.”

  “I’m sure you are, but I’m still getting there as quickly and safely as I can.”

  While it was true she wasn’t exactly looking forward to the reunion, she wasn’t horrified by the idea, either. Picking Jeff up from the airport on their way saved him the expense of renting a car. And since the next couple of days would require a lot of togetherness, it seemed like the easiest, most practical solution for everybody.

  For sixteen years, they’d made joint custody work despite the distance and the expense.

  They could survive this.

  “There he is!” Russ rolled down his window, and the ensuing gust of heat caused a burst of perspiration to break out across Maggie’s forehead, cheeks and chin.

  She grabbed a tissue and dabbed her face, careful not to smudge her lipstick, as she searched the throng of faces lining the curb of Terminal 1, looking for the one that would hold a vague familiarity. Eagerness marked the faces as they waited for the ride that would take them from this temporary gathering place to their next destination, making it all the more fitting she and Jeff should be together again to cross this milestone.

  Surely it was that thought—not the sight of her ex standing at the curb, looking trim and fit, white teeth shining against his tanned face, and dark eyes glowing with joy at the sight of their son—that caused her stomach and her heart to clench involuntarily...along with various other parts of her body.

  * * *

  “DAD!”

  His son’s voice, which had grown so deep over the past few years, still took Jeff Wells by surprise. Especially as he tried to connect the masculine sound with the juvenile antics of the kid hanging out the window of the black SUV, wildly waving his arms.

  By the time the car rolled to a stop, Russ was out of the car and had Jeff locked in a bear hug that squeezed a laugh from his lungs. His son would never be one of those hands-off macho types, thank God.

  The excitement of seeing Russ made Jeff momentarily forget the awkwardness about to descend on them. But when his eyes caught the hesitant smile of the woman standing beside them, it crashed down with full force.