The Last Boyfriend tibt-2

by Нора Робертс

  “Tell Owen . . . hi,” Hope said, making the syllable breathy. “From us.”

  “I’ll be too busy telling him hi from me. This was great, absolutely and completely great. See you tomorrow.” She grabbed her bag, slammed the truck. After waving them off, she hurried into the back door.

  She’d been sure she’d be back before closing—but she was not, absolutely not going in to look things over. She forced herself to continue past Vesta’s rear, locked door, turned on the stairway.

  And saw the woman sitting on the steps.

  Avery stopped where she was, instinctively moved the keys in her hand until one jabbed between her fingers. She considered options as the woman pushed to her feet.

  Avery was young, strong—and fast, if necessary.

  “The restaurant’s closed,” she said calmly.

  “I know. I’ve been waiting for you.”

  “If you’re looking for work, you can come in tomorrow, during business hours. But right now—”

  “Don’t you know me?” She stepped down; Avery braced. “I’m your mother.”

  In the wash of security lights, Avery studied the face. She saw it now, of course, she saw it now. But there were so many years between her last look and this one. So much time, so much distance.

  She waited for a surge of something—something, but felt numb.

  “What do you want?”

  “To see you. To talk to you. Can we go inside and talk?”

  Saying nothing, Avery walked up the stairs, unlocked her apartment door.

  She realized she did feel something after all.

  She felt dread.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Avery set her shopping bag aside, took off her coat, her scarf, every movement precise as she draped both over the back of a chair.

  She remained silent and standing.

  “This is nice.” Her mother’s voice piped out with nervous enthusiasm. “You’ve got a real nice place. I was in your restaurant earlier. It looks great, really great. It’s way professional.”

  She needed a root job, Avery noted, and didn’t care if the thought was petty and unkind. Traci MacTavish—or whatever her name was now—wore a bright red coat over tight jeans and a black sweater. Avery’s impression was of a frame more bony than slim, of a narrow face too carefully made up, and short, spiky blond hair against harsh black roots.

  Every thought in her head, Avery realized, struck as petty and unkind.

  Well, too damn bad.

  “What do you want?” she repeated.

  “I wanted to see you. God, baby, you’re so pretty! I love your hair. I always worried you’d go around with that Howdy Doody red mop and those awful braces, but look at you! I just—”

  “Don’t.” Avery stepped back as Traci started toward her. “Don’t think you’re getting an Oprah moment here.”

  Traci dropped her arms, her gaze. “I don’t deserve one. I know it, honey. I do. It’s just seeing you, all grown up, so pretty. I realize what I missed. Can we sit down? Can we just sit for a few minutes?”

  “I don’t need to sit.”

  “You’re so mad at me.” Like a courageous patriot facing a firing squad, Traci straightened her shoulders. “I don’t blame you. What I did, it was stupid and selfish and wrong. I’m so sorry, Avery.”

  “Oh well, you’re sorry.” Letting temper rule, Avery snapped her fingers. “Bang. All better now.”

  “It isn’t. I know being sorry doesn’t make it okay. Nothing could, I guess. I did an awful thing, made a terrible mistake. I just—just wanted to see you,” Traci managed as tears shimmered in her eyes. “I thought, maybe, now that you’re grown up, you could understand a little.”

  “Understand what?”

  “Why I left. I was so unhappy.” She fumbled a tissue out of her purse, then dropped down in a chair and sobbed into it. “Nobody understands what I went through! Nobody can understand how it was for me. You can’t see what’s happening in someone else’s marriage.”

  “Oh, I think a kid inside one gets a pretty good picture. You didn’t just walk away from your marriage, you walked away from your daughter.”

  “I know. I know, but I couldn’t stay. You were always more your daddy’s girl than mine, so—”

  “Be careful what you say about my father.”

  “I wouldn’t say anything.” Obviously prepared, Traci pulled out another tissue. “He’s a good man. Maybe he was too good for me. I shouldn’t have married him. I made a mistake.”

  “Mistakes seem to be a habit with you.”

  “I was so young, honey. Just barely nineteen. And I thought I loved him. I really did. Then I got pregnant, so getting married seemed like the best thing to do. My parents were so hard on me when I told them. You don’t know how scared I was.”

  Whatever sympathy she might’ve felt for a young woman in those circumstances evaporated before it fully formed. Avery remembered her grandfather—so kind, so patient, and the sadness in his eyes to the end of his life for the daughter lost to him.

  And her grandmother, strong, loving—and always a rock of support for her family.

  “Did they kick you out? Threaten to?”

  “They . . .”

  “Careful,” Avery warned.

  “No, but they blamed me. And they said how having a baby meant I had to support it, and—”

  “Imagine that. Imagine expecting you to take some responsibility.”

  “They were hard on me. They always were. I couldn’t stay home with them picking at me night and day.”

  “So getting married was a way out.”

  “It’s not like that. I was only nineteen. I thought I wanted to get married and have a family, my own place. And Willy B, he was just so big and handsome, and he took care of things. You know, getting us a place and all. He was real good to me when I was carrying. I tried, I really tried to make a nice house and cook and take care of you when you came. You were a really fussy baby, Avery.”

  “Shame on me.”

  “I don’t mean it like that. I just— I wasn’t even twenty when you came along, and there was so much to do.”

  “I guess my father didn’t do anything.”

  Traci sniffled, pressed her lips together. “He did a lot. I’m not going to lie to you. He did a lot around the house and all, and he’d walk the floor with you at night, and rock with you. He was a good daddy.”

  “I know he was. He is.”

  “I did the best I could, I swear I did.” Eyes drenched, Traci crossed her hands over her heart. “But honest to God, nothing ever got done that I wasn’t doing it all over again. Then you started walking so soon, and you were into everything. I couldn’t keep up. Even when I got a job and got you into day care, there was so much to do, and it was always the same. He even wanted another. Jesus Christ, he wanted more kids, and I couldn’t deal with that. When I had the abortion—”

  It was a sudden, sharp slap in the face. “You had an abortion.”

  Traci’s tear-splotched face paled. “I thought he’d’ve told you.”

  “No, he didn’t tell me.”

  “You were three, and my God, Avery, such a handful. I got pregnant again, even though I’d been real careful not to. I couldn’t go through it another time. I just couldn’t, so I took care of it. I wasn’t going to tell him, but we were fighting about something and it came out.”

  “You terminated a pregnancy without telling him?”

  “He’d’ve tried to talk me out of it, and I’d made up my mind. It was my body, my choice. You’re a woman. You ought to respect that.”

  “I respect the right of choice. But what choice did you give him? What respect did you show him? He was your husband, the father, and you made that decision without telling him. Or was he the father?”

  “Of course he was! I wasn’t cheating on him.”

  “Then.”

  Traci stared down at her tattered tissue. “Well, I wasn’t. And I couldn’t handle another pregnancy. I was sick half the time
with you, and got big as a house. I didn’t want another baby. I had an abortion, and I had my tubes tied, and that was the end of it.”

  “For you,” Avery murmured.

  “He was awful mad, awful upset when he found out. And things just went from bad to worse with us. You’ve got to understand, he wasn’t happy either. It wasn’t my fault. We just weren’t happy. But I went to the marriage counseling like he wanted. Nobody can say I didn’t try. I just felt trapped and unhappy. But I tried.”

  “Did you?”

  “Twelve years. That’s a long time, and all that time it felt like I had to be something I wasn’t.”

  “A wife and mother.”

  “I wanted more. I know that’s selfish, but I wanted more than working at the mall, and coming home to this town day after day. It got so I hated this town and everything in it. That’s not healthy, is it? It’s not healthy to live like that. My whole life was passing me by, and I couldn’t catch up.”

  “So you started having affairs.”

  “I didn’t mean to. It just happened.”

  “I think having sex with men who aren’t your husband takes some intent.”

  “It was only twice before Steve. I wasn’t happy. I needed more. I needed something for me.”

  “So you cheated on your husband to get through the boredom of being a wife and mother. And when that wasn’t enough, you just left.”

  “Can I have some water? Please?”

  Avery walked into the kitchen, filled a glass from the tap. She stood a moment, eyes closed, breath even, until she felt she had her bearings.

  Though she’d taken off the red coat, had it draped over her lap, Traci continued to sit, a tissue crumbled in one hand, tears on her lashes. “Thanks. I know you hate me.”

  “I don’t know you.”

  “I was there until you were almost twelve, Avery. I took care of you. I did my best.”

  “Maybe it was your best. That’s very sad for both of us. But there’s been a lot of years between then and now. You never once wrote me, called me, came to see me. Not once.”

  “I didn’t know if your father would’ve let me—”

  “I told you to be careful. I won’t warn you again.”

  “All right. All right.” Dropping her gaze again, she smoothed at the coat. “Maybe I didn’t feel like I could, or should. I just know I had to go, and I did it the wrong way. Willy B, he wanted us to go for more counseling. All that would do was string it all out even more. I didn’t love him, Avery. You can’t live your life without love. I know how he thought, I do. We should try to make it work. We had you to think of. But you were going to grow up one day, weren’t you? And then where would I be? Stuck here, and older. Older and stuck here, without any chance to live my life. I didn’t make Willy B any happier than he made me. What was the point?”

  “You wanted out. Fine. You wanted to live your life. Fine again. There’s this thing called divorce. It’s hard, and I’ve heard it can be painful, tough on everybody. But it’s how it’s done in a civilized world where women don’t leave their husbands, children, their homes without a fucking word.”

  “I just . . .” She sniffled again, set aside the glass she’d drained. “I was in love! When I met Steve, I felt so much. So much I’d never felt before. I couldn’t think about anything else. It was wrong, I know it was wrong, but I felt alive and happy. I know I did wrong. I know I should’ve been honest with Willy B instead of cheating on him. He didn’t deserve it, but, honey, he didn’t want what I wanted. I couldn’t be who he wanted me to be. And when Steve got a chance—a real business opportunity—down in Miami, he had to go. I had to go with him.”

  “You’ve been in Miami.”

  “At first. I was so caught up, and running away together, it seemed so romantic, so exciting. I knew your daddy would take good care of you.”

  “Stop it. You never gave me a thought once you walked out the door.”

  “That’s not true! I didn’t do right. I didn’t think right, but I thought about you. I was real proud when I heard you’d started your own place. It’s a good place, and I was real proud when I heard about it.”

  Little warning bells rang in Avery’s mind. She hoped she heard only her own cynicism. “How’d you hear about it?”

  “I looked you up on the Internet now and then. I did want to know how you were doing, honey. I can’t count the times I started to email you. And I was real sorry when I heard about Tommy Montgomery. He and your daddy were like brothers. I know Justine didn’t like me much, but she was always nice to me. I felt bad for her.”

  “That’s your level of motherly interest? The occasional Google?”

  “I was wrong. I don’t expect your forgiveness. I guess I just hoped you’d understand a little.”

  “What difference does it make what I understand at this point?”

  “I thought maybe you’d give me a chance, so we could get to know each other again, and—”

  “What happened to Steve? The love of your life.”

  Traci’s face crumpled. Sobbing again, she dug for more tissues. “He—he died. In November. He just died. We’ve been together all this time. We traveled all over, for his work, you know? He had his flaws, sure, but I loved him, and we were happy. Now he’s gone, and I’ve got nobody.”

  “I’m sorry. I am. But I can’t fill that gap for you. I won’t. You made your choices. You have to live with them.”

  “I don’t know how to be alone. Can’t I just stay here a little while. A couple weeks?”

  “Here?” Sincerely shocked, Avery gaped. “Absolutely not. You don’t walk back after, what, seventeen years of nothing and get an open door. You’ll have to figure out how to go on living your life. You’re not a part of mine anymore.”

  “You can’t be that cold.”

  “I can,” Avery corrected. “Maybe I came by it naturally.”

  “Just a couple weeks, is all. I don’t know what to do, where to go.”

  “Something else, somewhere else.”

  “I’m still your blood, Avery.”

  “You’re the woman who chose to abandon me and ignore me for more than half my life. Now you’re alone, so you show up. And that’s why you showed up—not to get to know me, or whatever other lame excuse you have for it.”

  And God, the certainty of that made her tired.

  “That comes under the heading of still thinking of yourself, first, last, always. I’ve listened to you, now I’m done. You have to go.”

  “I don’t have anywhere to go.”

  “It’s a big world. Take your pick.”

  “If I could just stay the night. One night—”

  “You’re broke,” Avery realized.

  “We had some . . . financial reversals. Things got tough, okay, and I could just use a little help getting back on my feet.”

  Everything, everything coalesced on that single, ugly point. “God, who are you? Money? You’re serious? You want money from me?”

  “I’ll pay you back. If you could lend me a few thousand, just to tide me over.”

  “If I had a few thousand to spare, I wouldn’t give it to you.”

  “You own your own business.” Traci gestured toward the shopping bag. “You can shop in fancy stores. You can spare me some, just as a loan. Don’t make me beg, Avery. Please don’t make me beg, ’cause I will. I’m in trouble.”

  Grabbing her purse, Avery yanked out her wallet, pulled the bills out without counting. “There. That’s it. That’s all you get, now, all you get ever. Now get out, and stay out of my life. I don’t want to see you again.”

  “You don’t know what it’s like to be alone, to have nobody.”

  “You’re right. My father saw to that.” Avery went to the door, opened it. “I said get out.”

  Traci walked to the door, paused. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  Avery shut the door, locked it, leaned back against it. When the shaking started she let herself slide down to the floor. She listened to the footst
eps echo away down the stairwell before she let herself weep.

  * * *

  She made excuses to postpone her date with Owen. A change in schedule, too much to do, keeping it in a text so she didn’t have to actually speak with him.

  Stupid, she knew, but she didn’t feel ready to put on a happy face, mask over all the misery, the doubts, and the grinding anger.

  She didn’t want to talk to anyone, so she avoided her friends, buried herself in work. But in small towns, friends tended to dig.

  She glanced up from building a gyro as Owen walked in. She sent him a quick nod, what she hoped came off as a harried smile as he slid onto a stool at the counter.

  “How’s it going?”

  “Busy. I’ve barely had time to catch my breath the last couple days.”

  “So you said. Maybe you’ve got time to catch it now, take a break.”

  “I’m swamped.”

  “Really?” Swiveling on the stool he scanned the early lunch customers, counted two tables.

  “I’ve got to take inventory,” she decided on the spot. “Glassware’s taken some hits.” Change the subject, she told herself. “How’s it going across the street?”

  “It’s going. I thought you’d come over, take a look for yourself.”

  “I will, as soon as I can carve out a little time.” She slid the gyro in, shoveled out a pizza. “What can I get you?” she asked as she sliced it.

  “The gyro looked good.”

  “Guaranteed.”

  He went over, got himself a cold drink, took his seat again. “Is everything okay with you?”

  “Well, I could use a break in the weather and a couple extra hours in the day. Otherwise? All good.”

  “Avery.”

  The tone forced her to look up, meet his eyes. “What? It’s a busy time, Owen. You know how it goes.”

  “Yeah, I do know how it goes. That’s why I’m asking.”

  “And I’m telling you I’m fine. I’ve got to run this place. I’ve got to find a new delivery guy since I caught the one I just hired smoking a joint in the basement. I’m refining my business plans for the new place, have to decide on lighting, furniture, perfect the menu, help Hope throw a bridal shower for Clare. My car needs new tires, and my rep just told me cheese is going up.”