He laughed. And before he hung up said, “You know where to find me if you need me.”
“Mommy, can I invite Megan to my birthday party?”
“Honey, your birthday is months away,” Abi told Adam. “She won’t be here then.”
His lower lip curled into a pout. “Megan said she had a party with a clown and a pony and a bunch of kids. I want a party like that.”
He still had trouble grasping the concept of time and that the kids who visited didn’t stay for more than a month. Many for only a week or two. And unfortunately his birthday fell in a month when they hosted an adults-only session. There would be no kids to invite, only retreat staff. Abi couldn’t help thinking about what Will had said, about this environment not being stable, about Adam needing friends that lasted for more than a week or a month.
It had been easier when he was younger and didn’t form attachments, didn’t notice or care that most of his playmates were in their twenties. Now that he was older, he was beginning to realize what he was missing. What would happen in two years when he started kindergarten? The nearest school was almost fifteen miles away. How would she get him there and back with her work schedule? How would he have play-dates with friends?
She shook the worries from her mind. She couldn’t concern herself with that right now. They would work it out. Everything she did, all the sacrifices she had made, were for Adam. To the point that she never did anything just for her anymore.
Considering the way she’d been feeling lately, the way she’d been questioning herself, she was beginning to wonder if maybe that wasn’t such a great thing after all.
“We’ll see honey, okay?”
He nodded and walked away, shoulders slumped, and flopped down in front of Maureen’s television.
We’ll see was becoming her standard answer lately to the relentless requests for things she just couldn’t give him. Could he have a daddy or a baby brother or a black puppy with white feet?
Eventually he was going to figure out that We’ll see really meant No.
“What’s up with Adam?” Maureen asked, setting two cups of coffee down on the table.
Abi shrugged. “The usual three-year-old stuff. He wants a big birthday party with lots of kids. He just doesn’t understand that there won’t be any here. It breaks my heart to have to tell him no. I feel like I’m scarring him for life.”
Maureen slid into the seat across from her. “Abi, depriving a child of a birthday party is not going to scar him for life. The circuses my mother used to throw for me on my birthday didn’t make my life any less dysfunctional.”
Abi leaned back and sighed. “It was so much simpler when he was smaller. When he didn’t ask so many questions.”
“Parenting is not supposed to be easy.”
“I know. It just feels like lately I’ve lost my handle on life.” She sipped the steaming coffee and set it back down. “So we’ve had dinner and dessert, talked about work and my mediocre parenting skills. When are we going to talk about why you really invited me here?”
Maureen smiled. “What gave it away?”
“I’ve known you long enough to know when something is on your mind.”
Maureen paused and sipped her coffee, as if carefully planning her next words.
“Wow, this must really be bad,” Abi said, and she had a feeling she knew exactly what Maureen was going to say.
“You know I trust you completely, Abi, and I don’t listen to gossip—”
“This is about Will Bishop, isn’t it?”
She seemed a bit taken aback by Abi’s honesty. “You have been spending a lot of time with him. I don’t have to tell you a divorce retreat is not the place to look for eligible men.”
“Have you ever known me to get involved with a guest?”
“I don’t mean to accuse.”
“He’s a nice guy and he seems to have taken a liking to me. I’ve been able to use that to help him.” She explained how she’d conned Will into attending the therapy sessions.
“Abi, I’m your friend as well as your boss. As your friend, I’m going to tell you to be careful. The man is here for a reason. I’d hate to see you get yourself into a situation where you’re setting yourself up to be hurt. Take it from the queen of poor judgment. If you’re going to have a relationship with a man, try to find one with as few issues as possible.”
They’d both made their share of bad choices where the opposite sex was concerned. “I know that.”
“As your boss, I need to ask you, no matter what may come of this, to use discretion.”
“Or?”
“That’s not a threat, Abi. I just can’t have the other staff thinking this is acceptable behavior.”
“I understand.”
She was cutting Abi a lot of slack. Anyone else would have been placed on probation, and had the behavior continued, their employment would have been terminated.
“You’re sure you know what you’re doing?” Maureen asked.
She wasn’t sure about much of anything this week. Last session if this had become an issue, Abi wouldn’t have hesitated to put an end to whatever behavior was bothering Maureen.
Last session she’d hadn’t known Will.
Since Abi and Adam were locked up tight in Maureen’s fortress, Will had a few hours off from playing bodyguard. To pass the time he hung out in the game room, where he could keep an eye on the stairs that led to Maureen’s apartment on the second floor. He had a drink with Larry and shot a few rounds of pool, then went outside to the patio by the pool—knowing Abi would have to pass it on her way home—stretched out in a lounge chair and watched, beer in hand, as the sun inched its way toward the horizon.
He may not have bought into the therapy garbage they were selling here, but he couldn’t deny he felt relaxed for the first time in he didn’t know how many years. He was actually enjoying the time away from work, out of the field. He’d always loved his job, loved being an agent, but lately it felt as if the only thing keeping him going was the need to get Collucci behind bars.
Robbins had been urging him for months to take a week or two off. Maybe Will just needed a little recoup time and the passion for his work would return. Maybe then he would feel like his old self again.
In his peripheral vision Will saw the door to the main building open, and Abi stepped out with Adam slumped in her arms. He was considering how he would approach her without her knowing he had been waiting for her when he realized she was walking in his direction.
As she approached, he looked up at her and smiled. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
She didn’t say anything else, just stood there looking uneasy.
He sat up and set his empty beer bottle on the table beside him. “What’s up?”
She looked in the direction of her cabin, then back to Will. “Could you walk with me to my cabin?”
Here he’d been trying to find an excuse to do just that, and she’d saved him the trouble. “Yeah, sure.”
“I have to get this kid in bed,” she said. “He weighs a ton.” She shifted him from one hip to the other, and Will realized he was out cold.
“I’ll carry him,” Will said without thinking. Not that there was any reason he shouldn’t, he’d just never thought about carrying someone’s sleeping kid.
Abi looked wary. “Are you sure? He’s heavier than he looks.”
He held out his arms. “I don’t mind at all.”
Abi shrugged and handed him over, and Will “oofed” as all that dead weight landed in his arms. “I told you he’s heavy,” she said.
Will gathered the boy’s lanky little body to his chest, and Adam’s eyes fluttered open. He looked sleepily at Will, smiled, then wrapped his arms around Will’s neck, dropped his head on his shoulder and was out again.
Will and Abi started in the direction of the employee cabins. Will had the feeling something was up, but she was silent. When they reached the path that led to her porch he asked, “So are you going to tell me w
hat’s up?”
“Let’s get him into bed first.”
They walked up the steps together and she unlocked the door, holding it open for him. “You can just lay him in bed.”
In Adam’s room she pulled back the covers on the bed and Will laid him down. Adam curled in a ball on his side and Abi covered him with the sheet. They walked silently out of the room.
“Would you like a beer?” Abi asked.
“Do I need one?”
She grinned and he felt some of her tension ease. “It couldn’t hurt.”
She got two beers for them, then gestured to the couch. She sat in the corner and he sat facing her, his arm draped along the back.
She took a long pull from her bottle, then turned to him and said, “I had a talk with Maureen tonight.”
“About?”
“You.”
Uh-oh. He took a swig of beer and set the bottle on the coffee table.
“I guess there’s been talk. About us spending so much time together. I can’t say I’m surprised.”
“Are you in trouble?” He truly believed she needed someone keeping an eye on her, but he didn’t want to be the one responsible for getting her fired.
“Not exactly. She just…she’s worried about me. And how it will look to the other employees.”
“I thought we had decided we were just going to be friends.”
“Yes, but it might not look that way to other people.”
“That’s not our fault.”
“No, it’s not, and it’s not fair, but it’s just the way things are. If I were any other employee, Maureen would have all the excuse she needed to put me on probation. She won’t because we’re good friends, but I feel wrong taking advantage of that.”
“So what are you saying?”
She paused, took another swig of her beer, and he waited for the worst, for her to say that they couldn’t even be friends.
He wasn’t even sure if he could accept that. And not only because he felt she needed his protection but because of the way he felt about her. He really enjoyed the time he spent with her, the time with her son.
She was right. It wasn’t fair that they had to worry about what other people thought, what conclusions they might draw.
“I was going to tell you we shouldn’t see each other anymore. Even as friends.” She stopped, bit her lip.
“But?” He hoped there was a “but” there. That this wasn’t some sort of brush-off.
“Since Adam was born, my entire life has revolved around taking care of him,” she said. “Every decision I’ve made was for his welfare, whether I thought it was good for me or not. Now all I seem to do is second-guess myself.”
“That’s probably my fault.”
“No, it isn’t. All you’ve done is make me stop and take a look at things, really see my life. Lately I’ve been feeling like…like I’m disappearing, I guess. As if the only identity I have is being his mom. I’m afraid that eventually I might grow to resent that. That’s not fair to me and it’s not fair to him.
“I spent the better part of my adult life being selfish and the last four completely selfless. I have to find a middle ground.” She turned to him, her knee bumping his shin, and slid a hand over top of his on the back of the couch. “Maybe it’s not smart and a little selfish, but I don’t want to stop seeing you, Will. I want us to be friends.”
He hadn’t realized until then that he was holding his breath. He exhaled slowly, feeling dizzy with relief.
“If that’s what you want, too,” she added, looking a little uncertain.
“It is,” he assured her, and she smiled. He reached up and brushed back the lock of hair that had fallen across her face, tucking it behind her ear. How could he have ever thought she was plain? There was a beauty there, a radiance, that shined from the inside out.
And the thought of her being hurt, of him not being able to protect her and her son, burned a hole in his gut the size of a baseball. He lifted the hand resting over his and laced his fingers through hers.
“We should try to be more discreet,” she said. “Maybe not spend so much time together in front of the guests and staff.”
“If we have to avoid being seen together when other people are around, let me go hiking with you tomorrow morning,” he said. That way he would get to spend time with her and keep her safe. It was a win-win situation.
“We had an agreement.”
“I’ll keep going to the therapy, I promise.” It wasn’t really all that terrible, so continuing to go wouldn’t be that big of a hardship. And just maybe he would learn something. “I want to spend time with you.”
“I don’t know….”
“I know you have a hard time trusting, Abi, but give me this chance. I swear I won’t let you down.”
She thought about it for a minute, then smiled. “Meet me at the trail behind the main building tomorrow morning at six-thirty.”
Chapter 10
Will glanced up at the clock above the door in the therapy room. Fifteen more minutes and he could get back to looking after Abi. Though he knew she was probably safe with all the kids around, it made him uneasy not being able to keep an eye on her.
Saturday therapy wasn’t technically part of the deal, but Abi had given in and let him hike with her Thursday and Friday despite their original agreement, and it seemed to mean a lot to her that he go. Considering the sacrifices she was making for him—like testing the boundaries of her friendship with Maureen to spend time with him—he kind of felt as if he owed her. He didn’t like the idea of owing anyone anything—in fact, it was something he avoided—but with Abi he didn’t mind so much. It didn’t feel like a burden. It was more like…well, the truth was, he didn’t know what to think of the way he felt about her. It wasn’t about sex—not that he didn’t think about getting her into bed.
Constantly.
It went beyond that, beyond what he’d felt for his wives. Something complicated yet effortless, exhilarating but peaceful. He was—
“Will?” Eve said. “Are you still with us?”
He looked around and realized everyone was staring at him.
“Yeah, sorry,” Will said.
She turned to Larry and asked, “So what is it that you have in common with these younger women?”
Back to the age thing again? Somehow the discussion always seemed to sway in that direction.
“We do a pretty good job of sweating up the sheets,” Larry cackled.
Claire shot him an evil look. “You’re disgusting.”
“No, Claire,” Eve said. “Larry has a valid point. He and the women he marries are sexually compatible. That’s very important in a new relationship. The newness and the excitement of learning each other. But that doesn’t last forever. Not to say that you can’t continue to have a good sex life. But eventually something else takes its place. Does anyone know what that is?”
Will looked around the room, but no one seemed to know what she was talking about.
“Friendship and respect,” Eve finally said. “Did you consider any of your wives a friend, Larry?”
Larry shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I never really thought about it.”
Friendship and respect.
Will considered what Eve was saying and realized he’d never really thought about it, either. And as corny as it sounded, even to him, something in his brain clicked—like the flipping of a light switch.
Had he been friends with either of his wives? Had he respected them?
He shifted restlessly in his chair.
Eve turned to him. “You look disturbed, Will. Is there something you’d like to say?”
“No, I just…” He shook his head. “Never mind.”
“No, please tell us.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Tell me then, what’s your definition of marriage?”
“Definition?”
“Describe your relationships with your wives.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. You
meet, you date for a while, you get married.”
“Then what?”
He shrugged. “What do you mean? Then you’re married.”
“What happens then? You live happily ever after?”
He laughed. “Hardly. For a couple of months it’s fun. The sex is good and it’s nice to have someone to come home to at night. A hot meal waiting on the table. But then they start to complain incessantly and…cling. You can’t go out for a beer without a lecture and they nag you until your fillings ache. You find yourself working longer hours just to get away. You shut off your phone because they call you fifteen times a day and you’re tired of hearing them whine. Tired of hearing that you’re too closed off emotionally or you don’t love them enough. And when you can’t take it anymore, you leave.”
When no one spoke, he gazed around and discovered that everyone was staring at him in stunned silence.
“Wow,” Larry said. “That’s harsh.”
“Do you feel you’re not closed off emotionally?” Eve asked.
He thought about it for a second and realized he probably was. “No. I am.”
“Why do you think that is?” Eve asked.
It was his father. No matter how hard Will tried to be different, it always came back to that. “I’m a lot like my old man, I suppose.”
“Your parents were divorced?”
“No, they were married for thirty-five years. But they weren’t good years. I don’t think they were ever what you could call happy.”
“That’s an interesting observation,” Eve said. “Let me ask you all this. How many of your parents had what you would consider good marriages? Raise your hands.”
Everyone looked around, but no one raised their hand. Hell, wasn’t anyone happy? What was the point of getting married if it only made you miserable?
“How many had parents who divorced?”
Five of the eight raised their hands.
“So,” Eve said, “it’s possible that your failed marriages could in part be due to learned behavior.”
“Meaning what?” Jade asked.
“As children, we learn by example,” Eve said. “When our only example of marriage is one of dysfunction, doesn’t it make sense that we ourselves might have troubled marriages?”
Out of Sight Page 10
