Читать книгу Meant-to-Be Mum - Karen Templeton - Страница 9

Chapter Three

As Cole drove through the retirement community gates to pick up his aunt, the kids merrily bickering behind him, he grumpily acknowledged that it was a perfect day for a wedding: bright blue sky, puffy clouds, the barest breath of a breeze set at exactly the right temperature.

Unlike his own wedding day, which had been marked by miserably cold, torrential rains, the tail end of some far-reaching hurricane. Not that it would have mattered, the ceremony being a justice-of-the-peace affair with only their immediate families in attendance. Because neither he nor Erin had wanted a fuss. As if getting married was no big deal. Like buying a couch.

Except, looking back, they’d probably discussed the pros and cons of Ikea over Pottery Barn far more than they had whether or not to make things legal between them.

He still had the couch. Ikea. Erin’s choice, and Cole pretty much hated it, but she hadn’t wanted it when they broke up, and the thought of buying another one made Cole’s brain hurt. So there it was, along with the rest of the crap from his apartment, in storage. Although even he had to admit, after more than a dozen years of food spills, ground-in city dirt and more than a few unidentifiable stains, he supposed he should really think about buying a new one. Couldn’t be any worse than dress shopping with his daughter, right?

Mercifully, the kids called a cease-fire as he drove around to Lizzie’s apartment, a ground-floor unit with a courtyard view.

“I’ll go get her,” Wes said, bounding out of the car and up the short walk before Cole could ask, the beginnings of a swagger evident even though the kid’s legs hadn’t yet acclimated to his growth spurt. Of course, that might have had something to do with his “cool” outfit, all of the kid’s choosing—khakis, designer sneakers, untucked dress shirt with preppy tie. Cole released a sigh, relieved that the boy seemed to be getting his mental feet under him again, at least, even if not his virtual ones.

Lizzie popped through her apartment door the instant Wes knocked, all dolled up in something flowery and floaty Cole vaguely remembered from his sister’s wedding twenty years before. But with a floppy yellow hat and gold ballet slippers to complete the look. And jewelry. Lots and lots of jewelry, dangling and jangling as she made remarkably fast tracks toward the car, jabbing her cane into the sidewalk so hard he half expected to see sparks.

Wes scurried up from behind to open the car door for her, earning him a squeal of delight and a pat on the cheek. Even if she had to reach up a foot to do it.

“Such a good boy!” she said, carefully arranging sticklike limbs as she lowered herself inside, giving off enough mothball scent to fell a horse. “So rare to see good manners these days. Thank you, honey,” she said to Wes when he climbed back into his seat. Then, as Cole backed out of the parking space, she twisted around to smile for Brooke, letting out a little gasp of delight. “And don’t you look pretty, sweetheart! Is that a new dress?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s the matter? You don’t like it?”

“It’s okay, I guess.”

Chuckling, Lizzie turned back around. “Tough customer,” she muttered over the soft whirr of the car’s airconditioning, and Cole thought, with a smile, You should know. He’d seen pictures of his aunt in her glory days, the stunning blue-eyed redhead who’d lived, with five other girls, in a two-bedroom Brooklyn walk-up through the war. So Lizzie definitely knew tough. And now, even though a maze of wrinkles obliterated the dimples she’d said she’d always hated because they’d made her look like a kid, nothing was gonna dull the mischievous spark in her eyes. Or the joy.

Brooke could do a lot worse than to take after the old gal.

“What an absolutely gorgeous day,” she said as they headed toward the church on the other side of town, closer to his old neighborhood. Behind them, both kids plugged into their phones, probably playing games. Cole couldn’t decide whether to be annoyed or relieved. “It’s funny,” Lizzie went on, “how as you grow older you learn to appreciate all the crap you took for granted when you were younger. Like pretty days.” She poked his arm. “And weddings.”

Cole grunted. Weddings. Yeah. Not his favorite thing. Especially weddings where Sabrina Noble would be present—

“So what are you up to these days?” Lizzie said. “Still messing around with all that computer stuff?”

“Same old, same old,” Cole said, grateful for the subject switch, even as he mentally shook his head at his aunt’s take on his work. Although he supposed “messing around with all that computer stuff” was how it appeared to most people. Hell, there were plenty of times it seemed pretty trivial to him, too...until he opened his monthly statement from his investment broker.

“I’ve seen some of the people here playing that game on their whaddyacallits, those little flat TV screens you carry around?”

“Tablets?”

“Right. Those things. Or their phones. Your mother tried to convince me I needed one, but really, where do I go that I need to carry a phone around with me?” She let out a cackle. “The laundry room?”

Fortunately, she easily kept up both their sides of the conversation for the rest of the way to the church—a lovely, nineteenth century stone relic, built in a time when most of the then-predominately Catholic community went to mass every Sunday. To someone whose only church experience had been the occasional visit to the Quaker meeting house downtown, All Saints felt ridiculously overdone. Until he got inside, where a syrupy light filtered through jewel-toned stained glass windows, and giant ceiling fans gently hustled air pleasantly thick with the scent of flowers and ancient, much-polished wood.

Both kids were suitably awestruck. “It’s really pretty in here,” Brooke whispered, taking Cole’s hand. Ahead of them, Lizzie clung to Wes’s elbow, chattering a mile a minute, her voice ricocheting off the rafters. Amazingly, his son didn’t seem to mind. Brooke giggled, then gave Cole a sheepish smile.

“I’m glad I’m wearing a dress.”

Smiling, Cole squeezed her hand. “So’m I. Even though it’s scary.”

Pale blond brows scrunched at him. “Why?”

“Because you look way too grown-up in it.” He shuddered, which got another giggle. Because she was still his little girl. At least for the next five minutes.

They slid into a pew, the wood smooth as glass. “I forget,” Lizzie said around the kids, sitting between them, “how peaceful old churches are.”

In theory, Cole thought as he caught a glimpse, through all the hats and hair, of Sabrina near the front, trying to keep a wriggling baby—a boy, he guessed, judging from his little blue outfit—from launching out of her arms. Beside her sat a younger woman, with another, younger baby, who was sound asleep. With a start Cole realized the tiny blonde must be Sabrina’s baby sister Abby, whom Cole hadn’t seen since she was five or six.

Then, because he was clearly a masochist, his gaze drifted back to Sabrina. Damn, she was gorgeous, her dark hair loosely piled on top of her head, a pair of dangly silver earrings grazing easily the most beautiful neck in the world—

“Dad? You okay?”

Cole smiled for his son, even as he thought, Dude. Get a grip. “Why do you keep asking me that?”

“Aren’t the flowers pretty?” Lizzie said, nodding in obvious approval at the simple floral displays on the altar, large cut-glass vases overflowing with branches of mock orange blossoms. “That’s her grandmother’s doing, I’ll bet my life on it. We have a million of those bushes on the property. She probably got them from there. Absolutely gorgeous. Oh! Isn’t that Sabrina? Sitting down there with the family? My goodness—she hasn’t changed a bit, has she?”

Physically? Maybe not. He doubted she’d gained five pounds since he’d last seen her. But the pretty teenager he remembered had nothing on the fully ripened woman sitting twenty feet away, her smile—as she kept up a conversation with the babbling baby on her lap—twisting his heart even more than it had the other night.

A heart he didn’t dare let be twisted. Not now, not by anyone...but especially not by Bree.

Some guy in official, churchly garb appeared in front of the altar, along with a good-looking blond dude wearing the standard nervous/happy look of the about-to-be-wed—Sabrina’s younger brother Tyler, obviously. And that could only be Bree’s brother Matt beside him, darker and broader and more imposing than ever. The processional began, starting off with an adorable, curly-headed tot in a frilly white dress scattering rose petals, closely followed by a boy of maybe nine or ten whose chief job was apparently to keep the little girl on track. Next down the aisle was a stunning redhead—an almost unrecognizable Kelly, radiating confidence. Joy. Cole smiled, genuinely pleased for her. Then everyone stood for the bride, a trembling, sparkly-eyed brunette in a poofy, pale pink gown that threatened to swallow up the much older woman walking her down the aisle.

“That’s Marian,” Lizzie whispered across the kids, loudly enough that everyone in front of and behind them could hear. “Laurel’s grandmother. Isn’t that sweet? And don’t they both look gorgeous...?”

But Cole wasn’t paying attention, because he was once again watching Bree as she kissed the baby’s head, only to stifle a laugh when an eager little hand clutched a fistful of hair and tried to stuff it in his mouth.

Too late, Cole wrenched his gaze away. Because the sweetness of the scene was now wrapped every bit as tightly around his heart as the baby’s hand in Bree’s hair.

The good news was, at least once the wedding was over and he’d delivered Lizzie back home, they were done. Since he was hardly going to crash a wedding reception, was he?

* * *

Even before he reached Kelly in the reception line, she let out a squeal loud enough to make Matt flinch beside her. Not to mention the groom, who almost fumbled the baby in his arms. The baby, Cole realized, Bree had been holding.

“Ohmygod!” Kelly shrieked, her hand flying to her mouth. “Cole?”

So much for the shy, mousy girl who, when they were in school together, seemed quite content to drift in the wake of Sabrina’s effervescence—much like Cole had, he thought on a sigh as the maid of honor yanked him into a fierce hug, her wild red curls tickling his nose.

“This is crazy!” she said, holding him apart. “Holy moly, you look amazing, I almost didn’t recognize you! What are you doing here? When did you get back? Why are you back? And are these your kids?”

“Honey?” Matt said on a chuckle beside her, even as Cole wondered why Bree hadn’t told her. “There’s like a thousand people behind him. Catch up later.” This said while Matt clasped Cole’s hand in a firm handshake, a hundred questions in his dark brown eyes. “Dude. Last person I expected to see.”

Even though they were in the same year, they hadn’t been even remotely close in high school. Different crowds, different tracks. But being Bree’s twin, Matt had obviously been aware of how tight Cole and Bree had been. Although hopefully not that aware.

“Last place I expected to be, believe me,” Cole said with what he prayed came across as an easy smile...the smile of a guy who no longer had to worry about this guy ripping his head off his shoulders. He hoped, anyway. “Small world.”

Letting go of Cole’s hand, Matt laughed. “To say the least.”

A proud Lizzie usurped Cole’s shot at introducing his offspring to the wedding party, and it amused Cole to see Wes trot out actual social skills, to watch Brooke go all goofy at the sight of the baby.

After hugs all around, Cole reached for Lizzie’s elbow to escort her down the church steps, the kids going on ahead. But they’d no sooner reached the sidewalk when Kelly caught up to them, her green eyes glittering.

“You guys are coming to the reception, right? I mean, if you have to take Lizzie back, anyway—”

“Oh. Um...we didn’t exactly get an invitation.”

She laughed. “I’m in charge of the food. Trust me, there will be enough to feed half the state. So you’d hardly be imposing.” Her eyes softened. “You were part of this family, too, Cole. Same as me.” Her attention swung to the kids, laughing at something Lizzie said, then back to him. “And we’d love to get to know the kids better.”

At that moment, Sabrina emerged from the church, carefully balancing the frilly-dressed baby her sister had been holding as she navigated the steps. Someone he didn’t know stopped to admire the infant; smiling, Bree shifted the baby for the woman to get a better look, laughing at whatever she said.

“That one’s ours,” Kelly said softly, and Cole looked back at her. “Matt’s and my new daughter. Three months old last week.”

Cole grinned. “Congratulations. Name?”

“Teresa Jeannette, after Matt’s and Sabrina’s birth mother. And Jeanne, of course.” Her nose wrinkled. “We’re kind of crazy about her.”

“No. Really?”

Kelly chuckled, then sighed. “Bree’s holding it together pretty well, don’t you think? I mean, considering.”

“Considering?”

At what must have been his puzzled expression, she flushed. “Oh, right...you don’t know. Look, forget I said anything—”

“Too late, Kell. Considering what?”

Kelly glanced over at Bree, then back at Cole. “She was supposed to get married in a few weeks,” she said in a low voice. “But the wedding got called off. That’s why she’s back—”

“Honey?” Matt called down to her, his forehead crumpled as he lifted his hands.

“Be right there!” she called, standing on tiptoe to buss Cole’s cheek, whispering, “But you didn’t hear it from me!” before gathering her long skirt and running back up the stairs to her husband.

Well, that would definitely explain the pain he’d seen in Bree’s eyes that day. Not to mention the deadly mixture of sympathy and self-preservation now threatening to choke him when her gaze bounced off his, that bright smile momentarily faltering before she yanked her attention elsewhere.

Mercifully breaking the pull that, whether he wanted to admit it or not, was still there. Even after all this time.

Even though it made no earthly sense.

“So there’s a party, too?” Brooke now said in front of him, all bright eyes and wonder, and Cole wondered how it was his children had been around for more than a dozen years and never attended a wedding. Or, apparently, even heard of the tradition. “Aunt Lizzie says it’s gonna be awesome, with tons of food and everything.”

Yeah. Everything. Including a boatload of emotional...stuff he didn’t want or need to deal with right now. If ever.

Lizzie clamped her hands on his daughter’s shoulders from behind, her I’ve-seen-it-all gaze locked in Cole’s. “Everyone’s invited,” she said softly. Well, softly for Lizzie. “And the kids are already dressed so nice.” Her eyes narrowed. “And it’s not as if you have anyplace else to be, is it?”

How about hell? Cole thought, resigning himself to the inevitable.

* * *

Wiggling a Coke can in sweaty fingers, Wesley frowned through the open French doors toward the grassy area past the pool, where Dad’s old friend was sitting on a bench. Alone. Weird. Except, considering how noisy and hot and crammed with old people this room was, maybe not so much—

“So go talk to her,” his sister said beside him, making him jerk. “Before you stare a hole through her or something.”

“I’m not staring,” he muttered, deliberately twisting around and lifting the can to his mouth.

“Are, too. Were, anyway.” Brooke took a noisy slurp of her punch, something bright pink and disgustingly sweet and probably lethal. “Not that I blame you. I’d like to know what the deal is, too.”

“So why don’t you go find out what’s up?”

Brooke glanced over her shoulder, then back at the milling crowd, her cheeks getting all splotchy. “Because I’d have no idea what to say? You’re the one who can talk to like, anybody. Me...” She shrugged.

Which was probably why she’d made Wes talk to Mom. Not that he hadn’t been thinking, too, how crappy things had gotten, with the boyfriends always coming and going, the way Mom always seemed distracted. Like she had other things she’d rather be doing than hanging out with her kids. It’d been making Wes nuts for a long time. But he hadn’t said anything to his sister because she hadn’t, and he didn’t want to upset her.

Neither of them had really thought Mom would make the choice she did. But she had. Like, without even thinking about it for two seconds.

Wes glanced across the room at Dad, talking to some dude a little older than him, maybe, standing with a couple of boys about his and Brooke’s age. Sabrina’s oldest brother, Ethan, and two of his kids, Wes remembered. Dad looked over, giving him a You okay? look. Wes nodded. Sometimes it felt like Dad cared almost too much. But after Mom? He’d take it.

He smiled, thinking about that first night after they’d come to live with Dad for good, and he’d come right out and said they’d have to be patient with him, because there was a huge difference between being the weekend parent and being the only parent, and that he honestly had no idea what he was doing. Pretty much the same thing he’d said the other night, actually, after they got back from the Colonel’s. Although why Dad thought that, Wes had no idea. Since he obviously had it together a lot better than Mom did.

Then this Sabrina person appeared...

“He says they were friends,” he said, swallowing hard. “When they were in school. No big deal.”

Brooke didn’t look convinced. “I don’t know, the way he keeps looking at her...”

“And you’ve been reading too many of those sappy books.”

“Jane Eyre is not a ‘sappy’ book, moron. And it’s better than playing those stupid video games all the time—”

“Like the ones Dad designs, you mean?”

Brooke blew out a cherry-scented sigh. “It’s just, after Mom...”

“I know. But Dad already said—”

“Oh, and like grown-ups never say whatever they think you want to hear?”

“So why wouldn’t she do the same thing?” Wes said, nodding toward Sabrina.

His sister’s mouth got all squinchy, as if maybe he had a point. But then she looked back at him with those big eyes of hers and said, “Please?”

One thing about Brooke, she never whined. Well, hardly ever. And she wasn’t now. But he could see the worry on her face, that they’d barely solved one problem and here was another one, knocking on their door. Because they’d seen it over and over, not only with Mom, but with other kids they knew with single parents—the minute a new adult appeared on the scene, the kids got shoved to the back of the line. Okay, maybe that wasn’t totally fair; he could think of a couple of times where it worked out okay.

But only a couple.

Wes glanced outside again, thinking, wouldn’t it be nice, for once, to not have to worry about the grown-up stuff? To simply be a kid? Seriously, even if they didn’t know where they were going to live after the summer yet, or go to school, things at least felt more or less normal. Finally. Because Dad...he really was there for them. Also, he was cool with being the grown-up. No matter what he said. Meaning Wes could already tell getting to live with Dad full-time was the single most awesome thing that had ever happened to them.