by Jill Kemerer
Addictive. Being his, being Tom’s. She’d been special when they first started dating. He’d made her feel like something precious.
She admired him then. She admired him now.
Thrusting the dirty dishes into the sink, she methodically washed the first glass. What would it be like to be with Tom again, now, with Macy? To walk down the aisle. To move into that big, beautiful house. To have support—his support all day, every day. To go to church as a family.
To have more babies who looked like Tom.
She dropped the glass into the water and put her hand over her mouth, suds dripping onto the floor.
Why was she doing this? Stupid, stupid, stupid. She couldn’t afford to indulge in these what-ifs. She picked up the glass, the warm water seeping through her fingers.
His kiss. His love. His appreciation.
She wanted it. Oh, how she wanted it.
Carefully, she rinsed the glass and placed it upside down on the dish towel, let out a shaky breath and stared unseeing at the wall, her head moving back and forth as if to shut out the thought.
Had she ever not been in love with him?
Head spinning, she fought the dizziness threatening to send her to the floor.
She’d always loved him.
Would always love him.
The urge to pray, to ask for guidance, rained down hard on her soul, but she resisted. What if God told her to do the impossible? How could she move to Florida if her heart was here? And how could she stay in Michigan and risk it all for a man who might only have strong feelings for the mother of his child?
She’d been right to warn Tom. Not the way he understood it—who knew what went through his mind?—but she needed more. She didn’t want to be loved for being Macy’s mom. She wanted to be cherished for being herself. And she hadn’t been enough to keep him home, to keep him interested in her before. She could try, she could give him every ounce of love she had, but somehow she would still let him down.
Closing her eyes, she exhaled. She just had to stay strong.
* * *
“Are you busy?” From his driveway, Tom called Claire on his cell phone. He couldn’t bring himself to walk into his huge empty house. Not now. Not after Stephanie had flat out told him she thought she’d ruin his life. Didn’t take a genius to figure out his feelings for her ran way deeper than her feelings for him did. At least this time she’d been honest about it.
“No, Reed went over to his dad’s for a while. Why?”
“Mind if I come over?”
“Of course not. The door’s open. Come in when you get here.”
He hung up and backed out of his drive. A full moon lit the sky, and he flicked the radio on to a country station, changing the channel at the girl-done-me-wrong song. As if he wanted to hear that. He kept flipping channels. Commercial. Commercial. A rapper boasting about clubs and money. Another commercial. Celine Dion. He paused. Stephanie’s smiling face popped into his mind. He pulled into Claire’s drive.
This was bad.
He was listening to Celine Dion.
And he knew the words. They were even starting to make sense.
He got out of the truck, slammed the door and jogged to Claire’s front porch, knocking twice and letting himself in.
With a big grin, she waved from the sectional sofa. “Hey, it’s good to see you.”
He didn’t return the smile but tore off his coat and tossed it on the closet handle before joining her.
“What happened?” She faced him, concern in her eyes.
Where to start? Maybe he should go home. Face the empty house. It would be easier than trying to figure out what had happened tonight.
She scooted forward and sauntered to the kitchen. “You need ice cream.”
“I’m a guy, Claire. We don’t drown our problems in ice cream.”
Peeking around the corner, she held up half a gallon. “You’re not hungry?”
“What flavor is it?” Ice cream sounded kind of good.
“Mint chocolate chip.”
“Fine.”
Two minutes later she handed him a heaping bowl of ice cream with rivers of chocolate syrup drizzled on top. She carried her bowl to the corner of the couch and propped her knees up. “So what’s going on?”
He licked the spoon. “Steph might be moving to Miami.”
“Right. The master’s degree.”
“But I asked her to consider staying. To go to Western like she is now.”
“Sure. Makes sense. That way you can still see Macy.” She took another bite and thought a moment. “She’s moving to Miami, isn’t she?”
A knock on the door startled them. He craned his neck back to see who it was. Libby stepped inside, smiling when she noticed him. Inwardly, he groaned. Claire was a good listener. She could usually see angles to a situation he couldn’t, and she gave balanced advice. Libby, on the other hand, blurted out whatever was on her mind. It rarely helped.
“Fancy meeting you here.” She shimmied out of her coat and wedged herself between them. “How’ve you been? Enjoying your new house?”
He shoveled in another bite of ice cream and shrugged. Better to keep his mouth shut. He was confused enough. He didn’t need Libby muddying the waters more.
“Don’t tell me you’re sick of it already,” Libby said. “We’re planning your housewarming party for Saturday. I even invited Stephanie.”
“You did?”
She chuckled. “Yeah. I did.”
“Why?”
She picked at her pink nail polish. “Figured you’d want me to. Anyway, she’s not so bad.”
“What brought about this change of heart?”
Libby and Claire exchanged glances. Then Libby patted his hand. “It’s okay. We know you’ve been spending a lot of time with her—”
“What are you talking about?”
“You skipped the Christmas church service with us, gave her a special tour of your house before any of us saw it, and you run off to see Macy every spare minute. I assumed you were considering getting back together.”
“I was.” Why did he admit that? “But not now.”
“Why?” Libby asked.
Claire unfolded her legs. “Stephanie is moving to Miami.”
Tom straightened. “I didn’t say that.”
“She’s not?” Claire sounded surprised.
“I don’t know. I’ve got to go.” He set the half-eaten bowl on the end table and started to rise.
“Sit!” Libby and Claire said in unison. He glared at them, then sank back into the cushions. “Tell us what is going on.”
“I want Stephanie to stay, but I also want her to be happy.”
“What’s so special about Miami?” Libby didn’t sound sarcastic, just curious.
He considered. “Well, for one, her dad is there. I know she’s wanted to go since he moved last year. Other than that, I’m not sure.”
“Haven’t you asked her?” Claire gave him a look assuring him he was stupid.
“No, I didn’t ask her,” he snapped. Why hadn’t he asked her?
“Yeah, why would he, Claire? He wants her here. If he reminds her of all the reasons she’s set on Miami, he’ll run her off.” Libby tossed her blond hair as if the concept was ludicrous.
“Exactly.” Maybe his baby sister wasn’t so bad to talk to after all.
Claire rolled her eyes, then gave them her patient stare. “Okay, what’s keeping her here?”
“Duh.” Libby jerked her thumb his way. “Tommy.”
“Tommy, the father of Macy? Her ex-husband? Or the man she loves?”
“She doesn’t love me.” The words sprinted from his mouth.
“How do you know?” Libby asked.
“I j
ust left her place, and we weren’t throwing out words like love, but she made it clear we don’t have a future together.”
Claire muttered, “As if the world would stop turning if you mention love. Men.”
Libby narrowed her eyes at him. “Do you love her?”
He clamped his mouth shut and fixed his gaze on the television.
“You do.” Libby nodded to Claire. “He does.”
Claire leaned forward. “Does she know you love her, Tommy?”
“Well, I didn’t say it in so many words, but she should know.”
“Should know?” Libby threw her hands up. “Given the history of you two, I’d think you’d want to spell everything out and not leave it up to her to decipher. Haven’t you had enough misunderstandings?”
“I’m scared, okay,” he blurted out. Stupid sisters. They could tear a confession out of a terrorist. “She left me. I wasn’t enough. And I’m still not.”
“What?” Libby’s outrage came through loud and clear. “Did she say that?”
“No!”
“What exactly did she say?” Claire asked gently.
“She told me I wanted her for the wrong reasons. That she’d hurt me again.”
“What in the world did she mean by that?” Libby’s face screwed up.
Claire held out a hand. “Tommy, did you make it clear to her you aren’t trying to get back together just for Macy’s sake?”
“What is it with you and her, blaming my feelings on Macy? Of course I want to be a family. I can’t leave Macy out of it.”
A commercial blared through the television.
“I wouldn’t take you, either.” Libby hitched her chin in the air. “If we were together—take the whole sibling thing out of the equation, gross—and you wanted me back for our daughter’s sake, I’d turn you down flat.”
“But that’s not what I want—”
Claire bit her lower lip. “Then spell it out for Stephanie.”
“She doesn’t want me.”
“Are you sure she even knows you want her? Do you really know what you want, Tommy?”
“Yeah. I want to get out of here.” He lurched to his feet, grabbed his coat and stormed to the door.
“Don’t go.” Claire stood.
“Stay,” Libby said from the couch.
“I can’t.” He cast one more glance at their faces—full of empathy—and shook his head. Then he marched out and got back into his truck. As he drove, all the things they said pounded him.
Had he made it clear to Stephanie he wanted her? She kept bringing the conversation back to Macy, but he never intended her to think all he was after was a family. So he’d been honest about not reconnecting if Macy wasn’t a factor. Macy was a factor, and his sisters and Stephanie could act as if she wasn’t, but it didn’t change the facts. What did they want from him, anyhow?
His truck ate up the miles between Claire’s house and his. He trotted up the porch and through the door. Kicked off his shoes and threw his body on the couch. The silence surrounded him, engulfed him, made him feel small and alone.
I’m miserable, God. Why can’t this be easy? Why can’t she stay here? With me?
He dropped his head in his hands. What if Stephanie did move to Florida?
No more Macy. No more horsey rides and Bible stories and giggles and hugs.
His sisters thought he wanted Stephanie back only so he could be with Macy. What did they know?
He squeezed his eyes shut.
Would he miss Stephanie as much as Macy?
He pictured Stephanie with her brown eyes twinkling, her patience with Macy, her big smile, the dark circles under her eyes when she studied too hard. The sacrifices she’d made and continued to make. She’d changed. The sweet girl he’d fallen in love with back then had become a strong, courageous woman even more beautiful than before.
Yes. His chest tightened. Eyes burned. He’d miss Stephanie.
As much as Macy. Maybe more.
God, why did You let me go and do such a stupid thing? I didn’t want to fall in love with her again. And here I am, worse off than the first time.
He fell back against the couch cushions. If he knew how it would all turn out, he’d know how to go forward. What if he did what Claire suggested and laid his heart out for Stephanie? Told her in no uncertain terms that, yes, he loved her and wanted her to stay. He wanted them to be a family.
Would she turn him down? Move to Florida?
He jumped up and paced the room. Grabbed his tattered Bible from the office and leafed through until he found the psalm he’d read a thousand times over the past five years. “How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and day after day have sorrow in my heart?”
Forever? No. God didn’t work like that. Why would He send His Son to die for everyone if He wanted everyone to be miserable? He wouldn’t.
You’ll work this out for my good, won’t You?
Stephanie and Macy moving to Florida could not be God’s plan. But what if...it was?
Then he’d deal with it. He’d be alone again. Training for a race that was infinitely less important than Stephanie or Macy were. Loneliness settled on him.
You’re enough.
He blinked. Where had that thought come from?
You’ve always been enough.
And for once, he believed it.
Chapter Sixteen
“Tom’s sister invited me to his housewarming party.” Stephanie typed a patient’s information into the computer and glanced over at Bea, who was sitting at the other computer station.
“The nice sister or the one who hates you?”
“Believe it or not, Libby sent it. The hater.”
“Maybe the nice one made her.” Bea slid a stack of papers into a folder. “Or Tom could have insisted.”
“No, I don’t think so. She included a note. It was pretty decent of her.”
“Why don’t you think Tom asked her to send it?” Bea got up, filed the folder and scanned the shelf for the next one. When she found it, she plunked it on the desk.
“Haven’t seen or talked to him since Wednesday night.”
“So? Two days go by. Whoop-dee-doo.”
The office had emptied, since they were getting ready to close, but Stephanie leaned over anyway and in a hushed tone said, “We kissed.”
Bea slowly spun in her chair, raised her eyebrows, then scooted closer. “Well. Now we’re talking. What kind of kiss? The old peck on the cheek or va-va-va-voom?”
Heat rose to her face. Was she really talking to Bea about kissing? She hadn’t acted this dippy as a teenager. “The latter.”
Bea rubbed her hands together, her eyes shooting rainbows and stars. “Does this mean what I’m hoping?”
“What are you hoping?” Stephanie cast her a sideways glance and resumed typing in the information.
“Don’t play coy with me. I don’t think you ever got over him. And now look who’s back. Kissing and everything.”
“It was a mistake. I should never have let him kiss me. We’re not getting back together.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Bea continued filing the stack of papers next to her.
“He loves Macy—there’s no question about that—but I’m kind of part of the package, you know. I want to be more than Macy’s mom.”
“Hold on. Do you think he’s using you?”
She considered. “No. Definitely not. I think he likes the idea of being a family, but it’s more for Macy.”
Bea seemed to see right through her.
Stephanie threw her hands up. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Let’s back up a minute. What gives you that impression?”
“He doesn’t deny he wants to spend more time with Macy.
And he’s never pretended he wants me to move to Florida.” Although, now she thought about it, the other night he had mentioned her taking the scholarship. Said he would make it work. He’d been kind, standing there in his dress shirt and tie. Looking like every woman’s dream. Looking like her dream.
Bea lifted a finger. “You’re not helping your case.”
“Maybe he got caught up in memories. In the moment. I don’t know.”
“Or maybe he loves you and wants another chance.”
She gulped and tried to focus on the patient form. He did act like it. His intense blue eyes had drilled into her.
“Stephanie? Are you sure Tom is the issue here?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re inferring all these motives in his actions, but there doesn’t seem to be much basis for them. What happened when you were married that has you so scared to take another chance on him?”
Stephanie whirled to face her. “I told you. I made a lot of bad choices.”
“Okay, fine, but you’re older now. I know you. You’ve got buckets of integrity. Maybe you didn’t like yourself back then, but why don’t you now?”
“I like myself.” She flipped the patient form over with a whoosh. “Of course I like myself.”
“Then why are you so sure Tom doesn’t?”
She held her breath. The clock on the wall ticked the seconds off. She wasn’t sure. Not at all. And she needed him to not like her. Because if he didn’t...
Bea tapped the folder on the desk. “Before you write him off, you might want to consider the possibility he loves you. You. Not just Macy.”
Stephanie shifted her jaw. “Look, I love happily-ever-afters as much as the next person, but not everyone gets them.”
“Not everyone is brave enough to go after them. You are. I believe in you, Stephanie.” Bea crossed to the wall of files again.
Her throat swelled. Bea believed in her? She almost asked why. And the thought stopped her short. Why should Bea believing in her be hard to fathom? And why was she so certain Tom didn’t love her?
