Beefcake & Mistakes

by Fennell, Judi

  “It’s good to see you,” Bryan said as he held the door for her.

  “You, too.” Because it truly was.

  She couldn’t shake that dream. Or the memory of when he’d kissed her. With Trevor around, it’d been a little easier to put thoughts like that out of her head, but when it was just the two of them… Hard. Very hard.

  She kept her eyes straight ahead as she headed inside. There would be no looking around to see anything hard on him.

  His bicep flexed as she walked past him.

  Okay, she could look at that.

  And salivate over it.

  She pasted a smile on her face when she saw Johnny, one of her students, behind the counter, hoping she looked normal. Friendly. Not frustrated and undersexed.

  She really shouldn’t have stopped dating. That’s what this was. Just a build-up of frustration that Bryan had tapped into by kissing her. And because he did it so damned well. Then there was the fact that she’d seen him all but naked on the stage—

  Actually his butt had been naked.

  She walked up to the display case and practically ripped a ticket from the dispenser as she looked at the menu hanging on the wall that might as well have been in Greek for all she could see straight right now. It was going to be a long fourteen-and-a-half years until Trevor turned eighteen.

  Bryan put his hands on her shoulders. “Find anything you like?”

  Yes. She had. And his hands were on her shoulders.

  “Uh… Roast beef on white. Mayo. Swiss. Lettuce.” A fork to pry her tongue off the roof of her mouth.

  “Number twenty-seven,” Johnny called out, changing the electronic number ticker on the counter.

  No one claimed it.

  “Number twenty-seven!” he said a little louder.

  “Jenna?” Bryan reached over her shoulder and plucked the ticket out of her hand. “That’s us.”

  Us. Not her, but us. He was already lumping himself in with her in areas that didn’t concern Trevor.

  This was not good.

  Bryan placed their order, then led her over to a booth. Jenna was more than happy to slide in because her legs were just the tiniest bit shaky.

  “So you brought some pictures?” he asked.

  Now her fingers got in on the shaky thing. Her stomach, too.

  “I did.” She ducked her head, thankful for once that her hair wouldn’t stay behind her ears so she had a few seconds to gather her composure, and pulled the baby book out of her purse. This was it. Once she did this, there was no going back.

  Bryan took the book as if it were made of glass, the look on his face only adding to her guilt.

  Think of the bigger picture.

  Right. Trevor. Custody.

  Bryan opened the first page. It was the sonogram.

  “I don’t see him.” Bryan turned the book toward her. “Can you show me?”

  “Sure.” She tried injecting warmth into her voice. Tried to keep her finger steady as she pointed out Trevor’s features. He’d been sucking his thumb even in utero.

  “I used to do that, you know.” Bryan imitated the same movement Trevor made.

  “I figured you must have because M—I never sucked my thumb. What got you to stop? I’ve been thinking about doing something, but all the books I’ve read have differing opinions. Some say to leave him alone, that he’ll stop on his own, others say to end it before it becomes a life-long habit.”

  “How many adults do you know who suck their thumb?”

  “Good point. Besides, it helps calm him down and sometimes I need him to do it.”

  “Yeah, he does seem to be pretty high-energy. All that jumping up and down he does.”

  “He’s a little boy. Snakes and snails and puppy dogs’ tails, you know.”

  “I seem to remember something like that.” He turned the page. “How old was he in this?”

  Jenna tilted her head and smiled. She remembered that moment as if it were yesterday. “About an hour.”

  “Who took it? Your mom?”

  Oh, crud. Here came the lies. “No. My mother and I… Like I said, we don’t see eye-to-eye on a lot of things.”

  “But this is her grandson.”

  “Trevor’s one of those things.” Jenna bit her lip. “I didn’t tell her about him until after he was born. She has an issue with his… parentage.”

  “You mean how he was conceived.”

  She nodded, biting back the tears. She didn’t want to have to tell him about the other baby, the reason behind her mother’s so-called shame.

  He dropped the book onto the table and sat back, blowing out a big breath. “Jesus, Jenna. You went through all of that by yourself? You must have been terrified.”

  “Well, not all by myself. My sister—my half-sister was with me.” When lying, it was always best to stick as close to the truth as possible. In this instance, she just switched uteruses. Uteri? What was the plural of uterus?

  “… is she now?”

  Right. Focus on the conversation.

  Jenna took a deep breath, this part of the conversation as tough as the other part.

  “She’s… gone. Cancer.”

  Cancer she’d known about while she’d been pregnant and hadn’t done anything about because she hadn’t wanted to jeopardize her child’s health.

  Yet Jenna’s own mother would deny his existence and shun her own daughter for “shaming” her. Biology did not make someone a parent.

  “And then you were on your own?”

  “That’s when I came back here. Moved home, hoping my mother would want to know her grandson and be able to overlook the circumstances of his birth, but she couldn’t.” Still hadn’t.

  “So Trevor doesn’t know his grandmother?”

  Jenna shook her head. It was her one regret about the lies she’d had to tell. But the truth of the matter was, if she’d told her mother who Trevor’s mother really was, not only would Ellen never want to bother with Trevor again, she’d spread more venom and vitriol about how the tramp’s daughter was as much a tramp as her mother had been. Trevor didn’t need to grow up with that going around about his mother.

  No, it’d been better for everyone that Trevor was hers.

  “Well, my mother is going to be thrilled,” said Bryan. “She loves her grandchildren.”

  Jenna looked up. She hadn’t thought about that. By gaining a father, Trevor also gained grandparents. And cousins. An uncle.

  “Does she live around here?”

  “Yeah, over in Oaks. Not too far. I’d like to introduce them if you don’t mind.”

  It wouldn’t matter even if she did. Trevor deserved a grandmother to love him. “Have you told her?”

  “Not yet. I wanted to discuss this with you. It’s a big step and I know you’re used to having him all to yourself. Just letting me in must be tough. I want you to get used to me before I spring my mother on you. She’s going to want to smother him.”

  “He deserves that. He’s such a good little boy with so much love inside him.”

  “Love that you’ve given him, Jenna.” Bryan reached for her hands and intertwined their fingers. “Obviously this isn’t the most opportune way to bring a child into the world and not really the way I would have chosen, but I’m glad I had him with you. You’re an awesome mother, Jenna. Thank you. For loving our son as much as you have and for putting his wants and needs first. It can’t have been easy. That’s why I want to help lighten the burden. Not because I want to take him from you, but because I want him—and you—to be able to enjoy being together.”

  “But we do.”

  “I know, but like with Jason the other day. Trevor didn’t want to nap, but he had to because you had to work. Take the ten grand. Use it to relax a little. Focus on Trevor. Spend time with him. With me. With us as a family. I know it’s not the traditional kind, but what is anymore? We both want what’s best for him and who knows, maybe we’ll find out my marriage proposal wasn’t all that precipitous.”

  Why’d he
have to be so nice. So perfect? Then maybe she wouldn’t feel so guilty about lying to him and could explore what was between them.

  Maybe even marry him.

  For a moment—just one tiny moment—she let herself go there. Saw herself waking up in bed next to him every day. Saw him going into Trevor’s room and helping him get dressed while she made waffles in the kitchen.

  Saw Bryan putting Trev into his car seat in the truck and driving him off to school with the T-rex backpack and the fire engine lunch box.

  Maybe even bringing a puppy home for Trevor’s birthday.

  He would love to get a puppy on his birthday.

  “Jenna?”

  Bryan’s thumb rubbed over her hand, trailing sparks of want and need in their wake—and not just the sexual kind.

  She wanted to be with someone. She needed to be. It’d been three years since Carl and even then, Carl hadn’t been with her like Bryan was right at this moment. The love they had for their son bound them together.

  Was it enough? Could it be enough?

  Did she want it enough?

  She did. And that was the problem. If she wanted it badly enough and allowed herself—and them—to have it, she would have to lie to Bryan for the rest of their lives.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven.

  Jenna managed to put Bryan off about the money—and his proposal—for the remainder of their lunch, but that didn’t mean she didn’t think about it.

  She did. A lot.

  “This picture’s cute. What’s it from?”

  Bryan had needed a run-down on every photo she’d put in the book: when it’d been taken, how old Trevor had been, what were the circumstances, who’d been there, who’d taken the picture. That part had gotten easier after Mindy’s death because she’d taken most of the pictures of Trevor. The occasional one with her in it had been because of Cathy.

  “Oh, that was his first day of pre-school. He was so excited and he’d insisted that Mr. Monkey had to ride in his backpack. The teachers had said it was fine to bring in favorite toys. That it was common for the kids to have separation anxiety and the toys helped transition them. Mr. Monkey had started staying home the second week, so it worked.”

  “He does love that ugly thing, doesn’t he?”

  “Yep. He does.” Mindy had bought it when she learned about her illness. She’d wanted him to have something from her that he could hug and cherish and take anywhere with him. She’d still had her Mr. Monkey from when she’d been a child—their father had given each of them one. Jenna’s was packed away in her closet, a reminder of her father she’d taken out the night she and Mindy had brought Trevor home… and the night Mindy had died.

  “Sweetheart?”

  Jenna looked up. An older woman was approaching their table.

  “Mom? Hey.” Bryan got to his feet.

  Bryan’s mother?

  Jenna froze. This was Trevor’s grandmother.

  “Mom, I’d like you to meet Jenna Corrigan. Jenna, my mom, Tabitha Lassiter.”

  “Tabitha?” Cathy must be psychic.

  “A bit old-fashioned, I know, though I was quite popular when that show was on back in the sixties.”

  “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “You, too. Well, don’t let me interrupt you—oh is that a baby album?” Mrs. Lassiter cocked her head. “He’s adorable. Looks familiar. Have we met—”

  It was Trevor’s school picture. The portrait.

  With his eyes center stage.

  “Who is this?” Mrs. Lassiter’s voice went hoarse and she planted her hand on the table. “Whose child is this?” She looked at Bryan, her face losing its color.

  Like Jenna was sure hers had.

  Bryan held his mother’s arm. “Mom, have a seat.”

  Jenna gulped. There was no hiding those eyes.

  “Bryan?” His mother braced herself with her palms on the table then sank onto the seat. “What’s going on?”

  Bryan ran a hand over his mouth. “I have some… good news, Mom.”

  “Good?” She looked from Bryan to Jenna.

  Jenna tried to put a smile on her face. Tried to because she had no idea what this was going to mean to all of them.

  “Yes, Mom. Good. It’ll be a shock, but a good one. You’ll see.”

  “Bryan, what are you telling me?”

  Bryan smiled, then he gnawed his lip, then he swiped his hand over his mouth again and drummed the fingers on his other hand on the table. “He’s my son, Mom.”

  “Oh dear lord.” Mrs. Lassiter slumped against the padded vinyl. “How? When? Why?”

  He patted her shoulder and glanced at Jenna.

  She tried to give him encouragement, but, really, she didn’t know what to say. Part of her wanted this for Trevor and the other part was terrified for herself.

  “Well, the how is pretty obvious. I mean we all know how babies are made.”

  “Don’t get flippant with me, Bryan.”

  “Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “Let’s just say, it wasn’t planned.”

  Interesting that he hadn’t said Trevor was an accident. Because he wasn’t. No matter that he hadn’t been planned, Jenna would never call him an accident. A blessing, a gift, a surprise… but never an accident.

  “As to the when and why… Let’s just say that Jenna and I knew each other a few years ago and lost touch.”

  Mrs. Lassiter finally remembered there was someone else at the table and sat up, drilling Jenna with her narrowed eyes. “You didn’t tell my son he was going to be a father?”

  Jenna winced. This wasn’t going to be good no matter what spin Bryan tried to put on it.

  “I—”

  “Mom, look, I’m not proud of myself. We weren’t… together for very long and I didn’t tell her how to get in touch with me. She tried, but couldn’t find me.”

  Okay, maybe that spin did do the trick because Mrs. Lassiter turned her disbelief on her son. “You didn’t give her your phone number? Your last name? Is this how we raised you? You mean to tell me you let this poor girl raise your son with no help from you?”

  She turned back to Jenna. “Please forgive me, my dear. I apologize for my son’s… reckless behavior. Of course we’ll help you now. If you’ll let us. I can understand if you want nothing to do with any of the Lassiters, but I do hope you’ll think about it for a while. A child should know his family.” She dragged the baby book over and looked at the picture. “What’s his name? How old is he? Is he here?”

  Bryan covered her hand and squeezed. “His name is Trevor and he’s three and a half, and, no, he’s not here. Jenna and I have a lot to talk about and he doesn’t need to be part of that. He’s with a friend of his.”

  “Can I meet him?” This she asked to Jenna, woman-to-woman. Mother-to-mother.

  “Of course.” Jenna looked at Bryan. “But… would you mind waiting a day or two? He’s just getting used to having Bryan in his life and I don’t want to overwhelm him with a family he’s never known before.”

  “Of course. I understand.” Mrs. Lassiter fingered the photo. “He looks just like you, Bryan. He has your eyes.” Her eyes were filling with tears and she flipped the page. “Do you mind if I look at this?”

  Jenna shook her head, trying to keep her own tears at bay. Such a different response from her own mother’s take on the news. That’d been full of recriminations and “all about me”s and the tears hadn’t been happy ones.

  Mrs. Lassiter’s were coursing down her cheeks as her son explained each picture to her, as they read his schedule and his first words.

  “Oh, look, Bryan. His first word was cow, too.”

  “I said that?”

  “You did. We were out at the Mackerley’s farm. We’d been there many times with you and you knew all the animal sounds, but for some reason the moment we drove up that day, you started shouting, “Cow! Cow!” She patted his arm. “Of course, we didn’t have the heart to tell you it was a bull when you were so proud of yourself. After that, we couldn’t s
hut you up.”

  “Huh. How about that? Who knew even that was genetic?” Bryan sat back and scratched his cheek. “So what does Trevor do that you did, Jenna?”

  “Oh, uh, well…” Jenna swallowed around the big fat lie choking her. “I liked to, um, color. Trevor does that really well.”

  “Oh, and he builds things, Ma. With blocks.”

  “Like you used to.”

  “Yeah. And he likes to throw the football.”

  His mother smiled and it both warmed and broke Jenna’s heart. Why couldn’t her mother have been as thrilled to find out about her grandchild? She could already see the love Bryan’s mom had for Trevor.

  “Maybe you’d like to come to dinner tomorrow night, Mrs. Lassiter?”

  The invitation just popped out, but the moment Jenna said it, she knew it was the right thing to do. Trevor shouldn’t be deprived even one more day of all this love.

  “Are you sure, dear? I don’t want to overwhelm him. Or you either. This can’t be easy for you, giving up your personal time with him to share him with what must seem like a bunch of strangers.” She socked Bryan in the bicep. “I’ll never forgive you for not keeping in touch with her. How many other grandchildren might I have floating around from previous girlfriends?”

  Bryan winced. As well he should. God, Jenna hadn’t even thought about that. What if he did have other kids? Condoms weren’t a hundred percent effective, regardless of whether someone pricked a hole in them with a pin or not.

  “Contrary to your rather low opinion of me, Mom, I don’t make a habit of leaving my DNA behind with random women. Jenna was… Well, let’s just say that night wasn’t the norm for me.”

  “Night?” Mrs. Lassiter’s perfectly arched eyebrows almost reached her hairline. “I don’t want to know. You two have to deal with that. I just want to make sure you’ve both learned your lesson and are at least practicing safe sex. Just because you’ve had one baby together doesn’t mean you should have more. At least not until you’re married. You are getting married, aren’t you?”

  “Ma, slow down. One step at a time. I just learned about him four days ago.”