It suddenly occurred to him that she might expect to be invited to Trevor’s high school graduation. That would be normal.
Trevor’s decision, he told himself. And it was way too early to be worrying about something that didn’t happen until June of next year. Then he wished he hadn’t thought about the month of June at all. That’s when Cait’s baby was due. Trevor’s baby. The baby that probably none of them would ever see, except possibly for Molly, who would likely be at her daughter’s side in the delivery room. Wouldn’t nursing staff whisk the kid away immediately, when he or she was destined for adoptive parents? Maybe the adoptive parents would even be there, in the delivery room. He found himself breathing hard, remembering the birth of his own children. The shock and joy, even for Trevor, whose conception sure as hell hadn’t been planned. The sudden, stunning love.
He gritted his teeth. Why was Cait putting them all through this? He knew where his vote would have gone, if he’d had one. And this wasn’t it. If there was anything crueler on earth to do to two kids the ages of her and Trevor, he couldn’t think what it was.
And he found himself aching as much for Molly as for anyone. Hearing that baby’s first cry, her grandchild’s first cry, and knowing she’d never see him again…that would haunt her for the rest of her life.
It might be cowardly of him, but Richard was intensely grateful that he wouldn’t have to be there. He and Trev would wait for a phone call and pretend to be glad when it was over, that Cait was all right, that the two teenagers could start looking to the future.
After they got past mourning.
In living color, the film resumed in his head. Trevor’s beet-red face all scrunched up, dark matted hair, scrawny long body and flailing limbs. Ten fingers, ten toes. Like almost every other parent, he’d counted. Ugly—newborns were, by any objective standards.
Love.
Richard wanted to be glad this baby would live, whatever the sacrifice on Trevor’s and Cait’s part—hell, on his and Molly’s, too—but he couldn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to think that letting this child be born and giving it away was the right thing to do.
He wished suddenly that Molly hadn’t had a lunch meeting. It wasn’t so much sex he wanted right now as to see her. To talk to her. He wanted to have the right to go to her house tonight, ring the doorbell, walk in and kiss her. Maybe cuddle her on the sofa while they watched TV or only talked. That wasn’t so unreasonable, was it?
He knew that, if this thing they had lasted, eventually they’d be free to take it anywhere they wanted. But Richard was discovering that he wasn’t nearly as patient a man as he’d thought he was.
* * *
“YOU WANT TO COME OVER for a bit?” Molly asked. “Cait’s spending the evening at the library studying.”
“You’re sure?”
“Sure she’s going? Or that I want you here?”
“Sure it’s safe.”
She grimaced. “This is so pathetic.”
“Yeah, it is.” He laughed then. “I’m on my way. And it doesn’t matter if she comes home before I leave. She knows we talk, right?”
Molly relaxed. “Yes, I haven’t hidden that. She doesn’t know how often, but she’s heard me on the phone with you a few times.”
“Trevor, too, but he doesn’t approve. He thinks we should butt out, that he and Cait are dealing.”
“Is that a quote?” she asked, amused.
“Direct,” he assured her.
She was still laughing when he was gone. She couldn’t resist dashing upstairs to brush her hair and make sure she hadn’t dribbled pesto down the front of her shirt. And brushing her teeth wouldn’t hurt, would it?
The doorbell rang not ten minutes later. Richard hadn’t wasted any time getting here. When she opened the door, he stepped inside and gathered her into his arms, kicking it shut behind him.
“I thought all day about you,” he muttered. “This keeping my distance thing isn’t working for me.”
Alarmed, she drew back. “We have to.”
“I know, I know. That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“No. Me, either.” She leaned into him. His hands were roving, seemingly sampling the sharpness of shoulder blades, the indented line of vertebrae down her back, the curve of her waist and—no surprise—the plumper contours of her butt. She loved having his hands on her. She loved nestling her head in the crook between his shoulder and neck and inhaling his essence. For the first time all day, she felt…right. “Why today more than usual?” she asked. “Did something happen?”
His hands went still. “Alexa called.”
For a moment, she quit breathing, too. Not liking the sharp edge of something that felt like jealousy, Molly reasoned with herself. It was surely natural he’d talk regularly to his ex considering they shared two children, even if it hadn’t worked out that way for Colt and her. Plus—if talking to Alexa had set him to craving Molly, that couldn’t be a bad thing.
She stepped back, making sure the motion seemed casual. “Any special reason?” she asked, leading the way to the living room.
“Brianna tells her Trev sounds more like himself. Not psycho-off-his-rocker, as my daughter puts it.”
Laughing, Molly started to settle on the sofa, then stopped herself before she could sink down. “Do you want tea or coffee? I assume you’ve eaten.”
“I only want you.” His eyes were especially dark and hungry. “I had this fantasy all afternoon.”
She plopped down. “Cait could come home.”
“Sex wasn’t the fantasy, although I indulge in that one pretty often, too.”
She took his hand and pulled him down beside her. His arm came around her shoulders and he pulled her close. She felt him rubbing his cheek against her hair.
“This was the fantasy,” he said softly. “Holding you, talking, maybe watching TV. You know. Normal stuff. But all done with you.”
Her heart took a peculiar jump usually triggered by too much caffeine. “Oh.”
“I was really glad to hear from you.” His voice was husky, and more than her heart zinged.
“I’m glad you could come.”
They cuddled in contented silence for a few minutes. “Trevor still isn’t calling his mother?” she finally asked.
“Apparently not. The kid holds a grudge.”
She smiled and contemplated the little bit of Richard’s chest she could see in the V of his shirt. Colt had had a nearly smooth chest. She rather liked Richard’s chest hair.
“Kids at school know about Cait yet?” he asked, after a bit.
Molly nodded against his shoulder. “Her friends. She told Sabrina last week, then gradually some others. Which undoubtedly means word has spread. We don’t get that many pregnancies at the high school. She says people whisper when she passes.”
“Hard on her.”
“She’s maturing before my eyes.” Molly straightened so she could look at Richard. “She’s holding her head up. I’m proud of her.”
“I don’t blame you. I still wish she wasn’t doing it.”
“Because Trevor is standing by her?”
“Because giving that baby away is going to stick with them forever.”
Me, too. The knowledge was there, an ache in her heart.
“The alternative wasn’t so great, either,” she pointed out.
“Damn it, you think I don’t know that?” He scowled at her.
Molly knew she was flushing. “You should be proud of him, too.”
“I am,” Richard snapped. “That doesn’t mean…”
“You don’t have to keep saying it!”
His jaw worked. “No. You’re right.” His voice had softened.
“I liked it better when we weren’t talking at all.”
Something sparked in the atmosphere.
“Then let’s quit,” he said, and kissed her.
All thoughts of their kids left Molly. She loved Richard’s kisses—the way he consumed her, but gently, tugging at her lips with h
is teeth and the suction of his mouth, sliding his tongue against hers in a sensual dance, encouraging her to respond in kind. She sank back against the sofa, and the next thing she knew she was slipping her hands beneath his sweater to the bare skin of his belly and upward, while he had her blouse unbuttoned.
He made a pleased sound when he discovered she’d worn a front-closing bra. One flick of his finger and it opened. Molly groaned when he left her mouth to nuzzle and kiss her breasts.
“We shouldn’t…” she whispered, even as her fingers flexed on his chest. His hard, male nipple was a nubbin beneath one palm. She moved her hand experimentally.
“Shh.” He suckled, nipped then let his tongue play with her nipple. “We won’t take our clothes off. We can pull ourselves together in a hurry.”
That sounded reasonable enough for Molly to let her instinctive anxiety go. Cait hadn’t been gone that long, anyway. She probably wouldn’t be home for a couple of hours.
Molly’s hips lifted from the sofa to push against his hand. She groaned when he cupped her and squeezed.
“Wish you were wearing a skirt,” he muttered.
Or nothing. Nothing would be even better.
But when he unfastened her slacks and slipped his hand beneath her panties, worry stirred in her again. “Maybe we should go upstairs.”
“How do we explain that if Cait comes home?”
Oh, God, this felt good. Her knees fell open.
How would she explain to her daughter why Richard was upstairs? He could hide behind her bed if Cait came home and then sneak out later.... No, his truck was at the curb in front of the house. Cait would already know he was here. Of course that wouldn’t work.
She whimpered and felt her body tightening. He seemed to know exactly how to touch her, when to let his fingertips ghost over her flesh, when to apply pressure and how much.
“Yes. Richard. Please.” She lifted up and ground against his hand.
The sound of a key in the front door lock had her jolting upright. Richard swore and leaped back, yanking down his sweater. Molly fumbled for her zipper as she heard the door open.
“Hey, Mom.”
There were footsteps. More than one set? She got her zipper up and pulled the edges of her blouse together but she couldn’t even pretend to have buttoned them when she heard the gasp.
“Mom!” It was pure shock.
“Dad?” Disbelief.
Knowing her face had to be flaming red, Molly turned her head to see the worst. Cait and Trevor stood only a few feet away, gaping at their parents.
Trevor’s gaze moved from where Molly clutched her shirt together in a fisted hand to his father’s face. Then his face contorted. “You’re doing Cait’s mom?”
Richard rose to his feet. “I’m in love with Cait’s mom.” His voice was quiet but hard, too.
“I can’t believe it.” Rage twisting his face, Trevor picked up the coffee table and threw it on its side. Cait screamed and Molly shrank into the corner of the sofa. “You’re as bad as Mom,” he snarled at his father, and ran out.
Cait tore after him. “Trev?”
The front door opened and in the next second slammed shut, rattling a couple of pictures on the walls. Molly winced.
Cait reappeared, disbelief still in her eyes, but something worse, too. “How could you?” she spat, and then her feet were thundering on the stairs.
Swearing, Richard dropped onto the sofa.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“YOU NEED TO GO,” Molly said frantically. She struggled with her bra clasp, her hands shaking.
“Molly…”
“Not now. Please.” She moved on to her blouse, looked down and saw she’d started to button it askew. She had to start over.
“Goddamn it, Molly, talk to me.” Richard sounded so harsh, her head came up. She saw that he looked as shaken as she felt. His dark hair stuck out every which way, and his lips were slightly swollen from their kisses.
With a sinking heart, Molly realized they’d have given themselves away even if they’d miraculously had time to rearrange their clothing and sit a cushion away from each other.
“Oh, dear God,” she whispered.
He moved so that their thighs bumped. His hands, steadier than hers, took over buttoning her blouse. She stared at his face as he bent over the task, concentrating.
Her heart cramped when she remembered what he’d said. It hadn’t really registered then; she’d been so tangled up in guilt and horror at getting caught. Had Richard meant it when he said he loved her? Or was he only being chivalrous? She cringed at the memory of Trevor asking if his dad was “doing” her.
Yes, Trevor, he is.
Richard smoothed her blouse down, then met her eyes. “This isn’t the end of the world,” he said gently.
Molly drew a deep breath. “No. Of course it isn’t. I’m hideously embarrassed and, wow, completely dreading going upstairs and talking to Cait, but I know we’ll get past it.” She hesitated. “Trevor, though. He scared me a little.”
“I know.” Lines had gathered on Richard’s forehead. “I haven’t seen that level of anger from him in a while.”
“No. What did he mean, you’re as bad as Mom?”
“I don’t know.” He groaned, leaned back and closed his eyes. “No, that’s not true. I’m wondering…”
When he didn’t finish, Molly nudged. “Wondering what?”
He ran a hand over his face.
“I can’t remember what I told you about Alexa and me. The end of our marriage. But I know I didn’t tell you I walked in on her with another man in our bed.”
Instinct had her reaching for him. “Oh, Richard.”
He returned the grip of her hand. “That was bad enough, but it got worse. She admitted this guy wasn’t the first. I was so busy, she said. I never paid any attention to her. We never did anything fun.” He made a hoarse sound. “I was working twelve-, fourteen-hour days, trying to make Dad’s business big enough to provide us more than a subsistence living. I guess I wasn’t much fun.”
“You were something a whole lot better than that,” Molly said fiercely.
“I was being responsible,” he said, but to her relief his face had relaxed.
“Yes, you were.” She bit her lip. “I don’t think I loved Colton by the time we split up. So it wasn’t the same.”
He grimaced. “I didn’t love Alexa by then, either. I guess she knew that. But I did love my kids. Losing them was the worst thing that ever happened to me.”
“I suppose saying I’m sorry now is silly.”
He laughed a little and his eyes focused fully on her. “No. It’s nice. But let’s not forget how long ago all that happened. And I’ve got to tell you, I was glad I was unattached when I met you.”
“Me, too,” she admitted.
His gaze became seeking. “I said I love you.”
“I…heard you.” Silly to be breathless.
“I do.”
Abruptly her eyes filled with tears and she threw herself at him. His arms closed solidly around her. “I love you, too,” Molly mumbled into his chest. “I can’t help it.”
“Why should you?”
“The kids…”
“To hell with the kids,” Richard growled. “We should have been honest from the beginning.”
“Maybe. I don’t know.” She wiped the tears away on his sweater, then lifted her head. “You didn’t finish earlier. You must think Trevor knows his mom cheated on her last husband.”
“I’m thinking worse than that. I’m wondering if he might have gotten an eyeful.”
Molly thought about that. Dear God, if so, it would explain why the eyeful Trevor had also gotten tonight had upset him so much.
“Will he talk to you now, do you think?”
The lines deepened on Richard’s face again. “He’d damn well better.”
Molly nodded, then kissed him. Only once, softly. “You really do need to go.”
His arms didn’t loosen. “Yeah, okay. We
have plenty to talk about, but…later.” He bent his head enough to lean his forehead against hers. They stayed like that for a minute, breathing in reassurance from each other. Then he let out a long sigh, squeezed her shoulders and pushed himself to his feet. “Call me later?”
“If I can.”
“All right.”
She walked him to the door, where they held each other again for a moment, letting go only reluctantly.
“Good luck,” he said.
Her smile felt crooked. “Ditto.”
* * *
TREVOR SHOVED CLOTHES into his duffel bag, ready to go out the window if he heard the garage door open. He’d already searched for the key to the crap car that was supposed to be his, but he couldn’t find it. Dad must have stuck it on his own key chain. Trevor wished he knew how to hot-wire a car. If he had time, he could probably figure it out, but he didn’t. The last thing he wanted was to be trapped in the garage when Dad came home.
Shit. He so totally couldn’t believe this. Ms. Callahan. The vice principal who’d suspended him twice. Cait’s mother. And Dad was doing her? This had to be a nightmare.
Packed with as much as he could carry, he let himself out the back of the house and cut across old Mrs. Phipps’s yard to the next street over. Then he walked fast, head down, listening for the deep growl of Dad’s truck. He made it to the highway out of town without hearing it. Maybe Dad was still at the Callahans’. Would he have stayed to talk to Cait? Trevor felt a strange, hollow sensation beneath his breastbone at the thought of the three of them together. Dad would look for him eventually; he wouldn’t want to admit to Mom that he’d lost him. Trevor told himself he was glad that he wasn’t out scouring the streets now.
Headlights hit Trevor walking along the shoulder. He turned to see several cars accelerating toward him. The light must have changed back in town. Still walking, but now backward, he stuck out his thumb.
They all passed. He turned, only to see brake lights flare. The last car was slowing, pulling over onto the shoulder.
Trevor broke into a jog.
* * *
“HE’S GONE,” RICHARD SAID. The phone to his ear, he was pacing the downstairs, tension making it impossible for him to quit moving.
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