He swore and said, “Condom,” in a voice that wasn’t his.
Molly went still. “Well, you don’t really have to…”
“Live what you teach.” He rolled her over and reached a long arm to his jeans on the floor. He’d stuffed several condoms in his back pocket, hoping for the best.
Praying.
He dropped the extras on the bedside table, tore open one—and surrendered it when Molly grabbed it from him.
“I’ve always wanted to do this.”
“What? You’ve never?”
“I was too shy the few chances I would have had. And on the pill after Cait was born. Until…”
He didn’t want her thinking about her son of a bitch of an ex, who’d pushed her despite her pain and her career ambitions to provide his Colton the Fourth. Richard reared up and drew her nipple into his mouth, suckling hard.
She gasped, moaned and gripped his head to hold him to her breast. Only when he let loose did she remember what she held in her hand and what she wanted to do with it.
She took her sweet time, too, unrolling the condom over him with strong fingers that teased and tormented as they went. He was paying her back before she was done, his own fingers playing in the dark red curls at the juncture of her thighs, then slipping below into the damp folds between her legs.
They came together in pure pleasure and need. Being inside her felt better than anything he could remember. He was past thinking, all sensation. The feel of those hips between his hands, her breasts pressing against his chest, the sight of her bared throat and parted lips, the color on her cheeks and the dark fire of her hair. He hadn’t made love to a woman in too long, and guessed it had been longer for her, but nothing about this felt awkward. They moved as if they’d practiced until they found perfection.
He held on until she cried out and he felt her deep spasms, then ground himself against her and let himself go. He did manage to twist as he collapsed so that all his weight wasn’t on her, but she half rolled with him so they stayed connected. Her hair was tickling his face, but Richard didn’t care. When he could force his eyelids up, he gazed cross-eyed at the strand that lay across his nose. Beautiful.
He had to clear his throat before he could pull up any speech. “That was amazing.” He mulled that over. No, he decided. “You’re amazing, Molly Callahan.”
“Who knew?” she mumbled into his shoulder.
“Knew what?” He was smiling, one of those stupid, unstoppable smiles that, thank God, she couldn’t see.
“That I was amazing.” She sounded genuinely bemused. But then she tilted her head back so she could see him. “That sex could be so good.”
“I already knew you were amazing. I didn’t know sex could be so good.” He adjusted her in his arms, loving the feel of all that lush flesh against his harder length.
Molly was quiet for a minute. Her “Do you mean that?” surprised him.
He gently stroked the hair from her face so he could see at least the curve of one cheek and one eye. “Which part?”
“That…that it was good. Better than usual.” She moaned. “Forget I asked. That’s pitiful.”
He shook with his laugh. “No, it’s not. It’s sweet. It’s vulnerable.”
She punched his arm, but wasn’t in a position to put much force behind it.
Richard turned his face so his mouth was closer to her ear. “It’s natural,” he whispered. “And yes, I mean it.”
“But you’re gorgeous. You must have women throwing themselves at you all the time.”
He started to deny it, but knew that wouldn’t be completely honest. Yeah, on a regular basis he had women hinting that they could be interested. The trouble is, he wasn’t. “I’m not that kind of guy,” he finally said. “Wasn’t even in high school.”
“Oh.”
“You?”
She shook her head. “By nineteen, I was dating Colt. Married before my twenty-first birthday. A single mother after we parted ways. Anyway, I have to care. Spontaneous sex with a stranger doesn’t appeal to me much.” But then she lifted her head and grinned at him. “Although that day in front of the grocery store? When I ran into you and Trevor?”
“Yeah?”
“The idea did cross my mind.”
He laughed and kissed her. Not much talking happened after that.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“YOU WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT?” It was the next morning. Sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar, Molly pushed aside the paperwork she’d been reading about new state-mandated in-service training for para-eds and looked at her daughter.
Cait had dragged in from her overnight at Sabrina’s, taken her bag upstairs and then come down to the kitchen. Even her “hi” had been subdued. She shrugged and opened the refrigerator, stared at the contents without moving and finally shut it without removing anything. “It was okay,” she said.
Molly only waited.
“Sabrina was really blown away. I mean, she’d heard the rumors but she didn’t believe them. She’s freaked that I’m going to have the baby.”
“She didn’t succeed in tempting you to change your mind?”
Fury flashed on Cait’s face. “What side are you on anyway?”
“Yours,” Molly said simply. “You know that.”
Cait sniffed. “I guess I do.” She hesitated, gnawing on her lip. “I’ve really been a bitch, haven’t I?”
“Yeah.” Molly smiled at her daughter. “You have.”
The teenager giggled, then with startling suddenness burst into tears. Molly didn’t have time to slide off the stool. Cait threw herself at her mother, burying her face against Molly’s shoulder. She cried, Molly rocked in that timeless, instinctive motion and held her, her own eyes burning. She’d have given anything, anything, to save her child from this pain.
“I love you,” she whispered. “Whatever decision you make, whatever comes of it. I love you.”
Eventually the sobs subsided, and finally Cait withdrew. Her face was blotchy, swollen, wet. “Oh, God. I have to blow my nose.”
Molly kissed her cheek, wet as it was, and got her a paper towel. She watched as Cait blew and mopped herself up. She ended up splashing cold water on her face at the sink and drying it on the dish towel. Then they looked at each other.
“Have you changed your mind?” Molly asked.
“I want to.” Emotion washed over her daughter’s face. “But I can’t. Mom, I just can’t!”
Molly nodded. “Then you’ve made the right decision for you. A hard one, but right.”
“Nobody will ever look at me the same, will they?”
What could she do but be honest? “No. But here’s something to think about. Yes, you have two and a half more years in high school. I know that sounds like forever now. But when you leave for college, this will be behind you. You can tell close friends about your pregnancy or not. That’ll be entirely up to you.”
“So even if the rest of high school sucks, it won’t last forever.” Cait pulled off a smile that filled Molly with pride.
“Right.” Oh, heavens. Don’t let yourself cry. “And I know this sounds horribly trite, but it’s also true. The people worth caring about will stand by you. They’ll still be your friends.”
“Easy to say,” she muttered.
“I know it is. I know.”
They were silent for a minute. If it weren’t for Richard, Molly thought, she’d consider starting a job search. She and Cait could move next summer. Cait could start over in a place where no one knew she was anything but a beautiful, smart, transfer student.
Richard or no Richard, was that what she should do? Molly had to ask herself. Or would Cait be a better person for making this decision and living with the consequences rather than escaping at least some of them?
I don’t know.
Something else to think about, it occurred to her. What with Facebook and other social media, the world was shrinking. Could Cait ever truly have a fresh start, or would her history follow her?
While her mother was thinking, Cait went back to the refrigerator. “I’m starved. Sabrina’s family eats this really gross cereal. It’s like something you’d feed a horse.”
Molly had heard the complaint before. “How about a grilled cheese sandwich?”
“Ooh. That sounds good.” Cait rummaged in the fridge. “Do you want one, too? I’ll make them.”
“Sure.”
“It was a really good game last night, wasn’t it?” Cait said, plopping the block of cheddar cheese on the counter.
“You bet. Now, Coach Loomis, he wasn’t as happy.”
Cait actually giggled. “I saw him. He was green.”
“Well, it doesn’t help that his own kid rejected his sport in favor of basketball.”
“Josh’s choice.”
“That doesn’t mean his dad can’t suffer.”
Cait paused in the act of buttering a slice of bread. There was a suspended moment before she resumed movement. “Like you will, you mean?”
“No, that’s not what I mean. Parents always suffer when their kids do. But we also have egos. When you excel, I’m glad for you, but I enjoy the reflected glory, too. How can I help it?”
“What about reflected shame?” she asked bitterly.
“Cait, look at me for a minute.”
Her daughter turned from the stove.
“You made a mistake. I wish it hadn’t happened, that you hadn’t gotten pregnant now, at your age. But I’m also incredibly proud of you. You made a really difficult decision, a brave one. And the courage you showed making it and sticking to your guns also reflects on me. I’m proud for you, but for me, too, because I can take some of the credit for the person you’ve become. That’s how parents think.”
Cait’s face momentarily crumpled before she whirled back to the stove, pancake turner in hand. “I love you, Mom.”
“I know.” Molly smiled at her back, the sting of all that pride and grief inside her. “I always knew.”
Her daughter glanced over her shoulder with wrinkled nose. “Because you’re so-o smart.”
Molly laughed. “You used to think I was.”
“Maybe I still do,” Cait said, very softly.
It was one of those moments that made every travail of being a parent worthwhile.
* * *
IN THE FOLLOWING WEEK, Molly enjoyed every minute of this new, gentler relationship. She didn’t kid herself, though, that it would survive if Cait learned her mom was sneaking around to have sex with the last man on earth of whom she’d approve.
Molly was torn between two opposing lines of thought. The first was: why in hell were two single adults trying to hide a perfectly legitimate romantic—or was it only sexual?—relationship from their kids? The second was: dear God, please don’t let us be caught.
She felt more alive than she had in years. If it was just sex, she could be consoled by the knowledge that it was fabulous sex. She had never in her life had anything that could be labeled a “quickie,” but she’d now had a couple of those, and they really did spice up the day. Twice she and Richard had met at her house at lunchtime—her house being safer because Cait was stuck at school thanks to the closed campus rule, while Trevor wasn’t.
The first time, they’d barely made it inside the door. Her blouse ended up torn. The only clothes of hers that came off were her tights and panties. Richard only unzipped his pants and shoved his boxers down. He took her against the wall.
On their second lunch date, they did get as far as the sofa, and she protected her wardrobe by hastily unfastening a few buttons.
After both occasions, the afternoon had passed with her basking in a physical glow that definitely reduced her stress levels as she fenced with bureaucracy, a janitor who got caught stealing and parents irate over an incident they deemed to be bullying.
The thing was, Molly was pretty sure the relationship was romantic, too, because even when they’d had frantic, passionate sex at lunchtime, she and Richard also talked on the phone come evening for up to an hour. One of them called the other almost every night. For the first time, Molly had become grateful that Cait vanished to her bedroom fairly early every evening. The behavior was normal for her; she might be working on school assignments, but mostly she seemed to be online with friends, on the phone with someone or listening to music. Sometimes all three at once. That left Molly free to talk to Richard.
They never seemed to run out of things to talk about. Occasionally it was their kids, often tidbits of news or philosophical debates. She argued with him for a good hour one night about whether someone who had chosen to join the military then had the right to claim conscientious objector status when deployed to a war of which said person disapproved. Intriguingly, Molly had taken the “no” stance, Richard the “yes.” It reminded her of the heady days in college before she became a married student with a baby. She loved learning how this man thought, and it was obvious he felt the same about her.
What they didn’t do was talk about their relationship. They were in limbo and both knew it. Cait’s and Trevor’s problems had to come first. That he agreed with her was one of the things Molly loved about him.
And yes, love was the right word. Although she didn’t think so, it was possible Richard was mostly interested in the sex. But she had fallen in love. Really in love, in a way she’d never been in her life. What she’d felt for Colt was more of a crush. It was part of the same excitement of being out on her own for the first time, knowing how many possibilities there were, imagining a future. The two of them would never have lasted if they hadn’t trapped themselves with a pregnancy.
Which she couldn’t regret, because then she wouldn’t have Cait. But maybe…maybe she had another chance. She hadn’t thought she would, not once childbearing became impossible for her. And then once the years passed. By the time she’d turned thirty-five, it was obvious the good guys were all taken. On her occasional dates, she usually figured out fairly quickly why this guy wasn’t.
What she hadn’t figured out yet was why Richard hadn’t let himself get snapped up postdivorce. He’d been single for something like ten years now. Two of those years had been spent serving in Iraq, but still. Either Alexa had burned him badly, or the way he’d gotten trapped into marriage and responsibility in the first place had left him disinclined to burden himself that way again.
But she kept remembering the way he’d said, “Our time will come, Molly.” He couldn’t have meant only for sex, could he?
* * *
“BREE TOLD YOU THAT?” Richard adjusted the phone while he juggled cold cuts and French rolls between fridge and counter. “Yeah, he’s doing a lot better.”
He’d been surprised by the call from his ex-wife. He and she had hardly talked in years, not since the kids had gotten old enough their parents didn’t have to discuss visitation and travel arrangements. He hadn’t missed talking to Lexa. On the other hand, he couldn’t blame her for feeling anxious about Trevor and needing reassurance. It was to her credit that she was still worrying, even if she had dumped their son on Richard.
“What happened?” she asked.
He hesitated. If anyone told her about the pregnancy, it should be Trev. He was almost a man; if he didn’t want his mother to know, Richard thought that was his right. Whether he’d told Brianna or not, Richard couldn’t guess.
“I really don’t know,” he said. “He’s begun to take responsibility, that’s all. Thinking about consequences.” Something about your baby growing in a woman’s belly did that to a man, if he had any decency to start with.
“So you think he’s gotten over whatever upset him?”
A tentative note in her voice raised Richard’s antennae. It gave him an inkling that Lexa did have an idea what set Trevor off. That she’d lied to him.
Yeah, why should that surprise me?
Suddenly he was pissed. “And what could that have been?”
“I don’t know!” The little girl voice became shrill, defensive. Nothing was eve
r Alexa’s fault. “I told you I didn’t!”
“Yeah, you did.”
Evidently not hearing his dry tone, she continued. “It must have had something to do with Davis and me. But why would that bother him?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Are you seeing anyone?” he asked, hoping she wouldn’t take his interest as personal.
The small silence was answer enough. “As it happens, I am,” she said finally. “What, are you worried about me leaving Bree home alone when I go out?”
He was more worried if she wasn’t going out. He’d always wondered how many men she’d brought into the kids’ lives in between husbands. “Brianna’s fourteen. I think she can take care of herself.”
“I suppose you’re living like a monk.”
Richard couldn’t help grinning at her snottiness. It was damn hard not to say, As it happens, I’m not. I screwed a woman blind against a wall the other day. Or was I the one who went blind? Either way…never did that before. But, oh, damn, he wanted to do it again. Even if his legs and arms had both been shaking from the strain of holding Molly by the end.
“Probably better if we stayed focused on the kids,” he suggested.
She snorted. “Then why did you ask?”
“I thought it might have something to do with Trev’s attitude.”
More silence, which confirmed his suspicion. What he still didn’t get was why their son would go off the deep end because his mother split up from yet another husband.
“Listen, I’ve got to go,” he said. “I’ll tell Trevor you called. He’s, uh, still got a lot of anger. I wouldn’t hold my breath waiting for him to get in touch.”
He heard sniffles, made himself murmur a few reassuring things and gratefully ended the call. With a little luck, he wouldn’t have to talk to her again for months. Maybe years.
No Matter What Page 17
