Daughters Of The Bride. Susan Mallery
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She hadn’t known she could feel such things. One thing had led to another, and before she’d realized what was happening, she was naked and he was inside her.
The feeling of being swept away had ended the second he’d taken her virginity. Pain was a quick road to reality. She’d thought about telling him to stop, but it was really too late. So she’d waited the three or four seconds until he’d finished, then had gotten dressed.
Neither of them had spoken on the drive home. She’d jumped out of his car and raced inside—not sure what to think. She’d done something wrong, she knew that much. A slut. If her mother ever found out...
The next morning Rachel had thought about faking being sick. Only, she didn’t want anyone asking about her. Speculation was death. Better to simply pretend to be fine and get through the day.
She’d been shocked to find Greg waiting for her as she left the house. He’d told her they had to talk. Reluctantly, she’d gotten into his car, even though she had no idea what they were going to say. They’d done it. Now they had to deal with having done it. What was there to say?
Apparently, a lot.
“Are you okay?”
Not the question she’d expected. She’d nodded.
“I’m sorry,” he told her earnestly, his dark gaze locked on her face. “Not that we had sex, but because it happened so fast. It should have been after we’d been going out for like six months, and been a lot more romantic.” His concern turned sheepish. “I kept waiting for you to tell me no, and when you didn’t—” He shrugged. “I couldn’t believe you were going to let me do that.”
“Why wouldn’t I? You’re you. Everybody loves you.”
“Do you?”
Love him? Did she? “I don’t really know you. I know of you, but that’s different.”
“So you’re saying you used me for sex.”
After that time in the park, she would have sworn she would never laugh again, never smile, never feel good about herself. But right then, she couldn’t stop her lips from curving up.
“I wish I was brave enough to do that,” she admitted. “But I’m not.”
“You’re the most confusing girl I’ve ever known. And the prettiest. Can I drive you to school?”
She’d said yes and that had been the beginning of their relationship. They’d dated exclusively until she’d graduated from high school and then they’d gotten married.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, drawing her back to the present. “And don’t say nothing. It’s obvious you didn’t find my glove descriptions riveting.”
“Sorry. I was just going over what I have to get done this week.” A flat-out lie, but there was no way she was going to admit to reminiscing. While their marriage had been her whole world, Greg hadn’t felt the same way. He’d cheated on her.
“Josh’s game’s Wednesday afternoon, right?” he asked. “I want to make sure I’m there.”
“Yes. It’s at four.” She picked up her pizza slice and took another bite.
“I know you’re one of the team moms. Anything I can do to help with that?”
As a team mom, she was expected to collect money from the other parents to pay for drinks and snacks. She was also in charge of making sure the equipment was collected at the end of the game. If any was left behind, she brought it home with her until the next practice. There were usually two team moms. Heather was the other one, but she was turning out to be a flake.
“I’m good,” she told him.
“You sure? Josh mentioned that Heather hadn’t remembered to bring snacks last time. I could take care of that.”
“I’m handling it. Besides, you have to miss some of his games for work.”
“Yeah, but I could help when I’m not working. You wouldn’t have to do it all yourself.”
“I don’t mind.”
“At least that way you know it will be done right?” he asked. The tone was light, but there was something in his words.
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t trust easily.”
She put down her pizza and glanced toward the living room. When she returned her attention to Greg, she made sure her voice was low.
“If you’re asking if I trust you, I would say it depends. You’re a good father and I appreciate that. Josh needs his dad in his life. As for the rest of it, we’re divorced, Greg. What does it matter what I think of you?”
He pushed his plate away. “You’re never going to get over what happened, are you? It doesn’t matter how many times I tell you I’m sorry. That I want to make things right. You don’t care. I screwed up and you can never forgive me.”
Her stomach started to hurt. “You don’t care about my forgiveness. You just don’t like being the bad guy. It cuts into your self-image. Get over it. Like I said, you’re a good father. I never say anything bad about you to Josh. We work well with him. That’s more than most divorced couples have.”
“Don’t you ever wish we could be friends again? There were rough times while we were married, Rachel, but there was a lot of good, too.”
There had been, she thought to herself. Lots of laughter and love. At least at first. But then things had changed. She’d grown up and he hadn’t. While she’d taken care of their child and their house, Greg had gone out with his friends. He might have cheated only after ten years of marriage, but he’d let her down a long time before that.
“I like things how they are now,” she told him. “Separate. You have your life and I have mine.”
For a second she thought he was going to protest. To say he wanted something else. Something more.
Her chest tightened and her heart pounded. Hope, anticipation and fear blended into a churning mess that didn’t sit well with her pizza. Because no matter what face she showed to the rest of the world, she knew the truth. That despite what she said and how she acted, she’d never gotten over Greg. It wasn’t that she couldn’t forgive him, it was that she couldn’t forget him. He’d obviously moved on and she was stuck still in love with him.
“That’s what I thought,” he told her, his voice resigned. “What’s done is done and there’s no going back.”
The hope shriveled and died, much like her heart had done that day two years ago when she’d taken one look into his eyes and had known the truth.
“I should be going,” he told her. “Have a good week.”
“You, too.”
He called out a goodbye to Josh, then let himself out the back door. Rachel wrapped up the rest of her small pizza. She couldn’t eat any more tonight. And while Josh would protest the lack of meat, he would still snack on it tomorrow when he got home from school.
Later, after her son was in bed, Rachel sat alone in the living room. The house was quiet, the only sounds coming from outside when a car drove by. She told herself that everything was fine, that she was doing okay, but she knew she was lying about all of it.
* * *
Quinn stared at the house. It was three stories and about forty-two hundred square feet. Big windows, a nice yard, on a quiet street.
“Never gonna work,” Wayne announced.
“You haven’t seen the inside,” Quinn pointed out. “What if it’s perfect?”
Wayne—a sixtysomething former marine—sighed the sigh of those cursed with too much intelligence who were forced to deal with ordinary mortals.