Almost Perfect. Сьюзен Мэллери
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about giving me some time to work?” she asked as they approached the house.
“Okay. I’ll watch a movie.” He grabbed her wrist and looked at her watch. “Five more hours.”
She forced a smile. No doubt her son would count down the minutes. While she understood and appreciated his excitement, nothing about this was simple for her. Especially Ethan’s understandable rage and her own growing sense of having screwed up.
But when the self-doubt threatened, she reminded herself that she had come back to tell him about Tyler. Maybe the first effort hadn’t been much, but she’d handled the second one the best she could. She even had proof that Ethan had rejected his son. Proof that might not be real.
What kind of woman kept information of a child from her husband?
In high school, Rayanne had traveled with a pack of mean girls and Liz had been one of their favorite victims. Rayanne, Pia O’Brian and a few others had delighted in making Liz’s life a nightmare. Liz might have been smart and pretty, but she’d been poor, living in a bad part of town and she’d had a reputation.
It didn’t matter that Liz hadn’t dated a single guy until Ethan. Not only had he been her first time, he’d been her first kiss. But as far as everyone in high school was concerned, Liz Sutton had been a piece of ass who put out for anyone who asked. Or paid.
There had been plenty of guys who’d claimed to have done her. She’d heard the bragging, the taunts. No one cared that it wasn’t true. No one questioned the rumors. After all, her mother was a drunk and a whore—why not her?
She shook off the past, knowing it wouldn’t help her now. She had to focus on what was happening today. Wasn’t that enough of a problem?
When they reached the house, Tyler raced into the living room to pick a movie. After searching through the collection in the small bookcase by the window, he chose one and brought it to Liz.
“It’s kind of a girl movie,” he said with a shrug, “but I haven’t seen it.”
Liz glanced at the Hannah Montana title, then ruffled his hair. “Sometimes girls are fun.”
“I guess.”
He would find out about girls being fun soon enough, she thought, watching him bolt upstairs. She’d brought the portable DVD player he used when they traveled, along with headphones. So the house would be quiet. She couldn’t use noise as an excuse not to work.
After booting up her laptop, she did a quick check of e-mail, then opened her Word document. But despite the half-written sentence and the blinking cursor, she couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
Everyone always talked about how great she had it. That being a writer was so wonderful. She could work anywhere, at anytime. Which was, in theory, true. But there was also no one else to do the work when she wasn’t in the mood, or when life interfered, like now. No meeting to take her mind off her swirling thoughts. At this point she would happily return to her waitressing days rather than try to come up with a few good pages. But that wasn’t an option. She could only type and delete until something finally clicked or there was a miracle.
Today the miracle came in the form of someone ringing the doorbell.
Liz saved her pitiful three sentences and got up from the kitchen table. When she opened the front door, she decided miracle wasn’t exactly the right word.
Denise Hendrix, Ethan’s mother, stood on her doorstep. The woman was well dressed, fit, attractive and based on the fire spitting from her eyes, really, really upset.
“May I come in?” Denise asked, pushing past Liz and entering the shabby living room, then facing her. “We’ve never met, but I’m Ethan’s mother.”
“I know who you are.”
“And why I’m here?” Denise demanded.
As questions went, it wasn’t a difficult one. She nodded.
Denise looked around. “Where is he?”
Liz assumed she meant Tyler. “Upstairs, watching a movie.”
Denise’s gaze went to the stairs. Longing darkened her eyes, then faded as the other woman turned back to her. “Probably for the best. You and I need to talk.”
“Ethan spoke to you.” Liz made the words a statement.
“Yes, he did. He told me you’re claiming to have had his child. A child who is now eleven years old. A boy you’ve kept from his entire family.” Denise glared at her. “I told him to be nice and rational. That it would be easier if we all got along.”
“Advice you’re choosing not to take?” Liz asked, feeling defensive and understanding at the same time. Not exactly a comfortable combination of emotions.
Denise shook her head. “I should, but I can’t. You’ve damaged us all, but your boy most of all.”
Liz grabbed hold of her self-control with both hands. She’d never thought to ask Ethan to keep the information to himself. She didn’t go around talking about her private life with very many people. It didn’t occur to her that he would speak to his mother, and so quickly.
But the Hendrix family had always been close. Something she’d envied when she’d been younger. Now the warm, loving, supportive mother had been replaced by one who perceived one of her own had been wronged.
“I came back to tell Ethan I was pregnant,” Liz countered, knowing there wasn’t actually any point in defending herself, but unable to stop. “I’d been gone about two months. I found him in bed with someone else.”
Denise frowned. “Which I’m sure was very painful, but not an excuse to keep that kind of information from him. He was a father. He had the right to know.”
Liz drew in a breath. “You’re right. He did. Which is why I came back five years ago to tell him. He wasn’t home and I spoke to his wife. I told Rayanne everything and she promised to tell him. Less than two weeks later, I received a letter from Ethan telling me that he wanted nothing to do with me or Tyler. That I should keep away from him and Fool’s Gold. I’m having the letter sent overnight and it will be here tomorrow. I’m happy to give you a copy.”
Liz reached for the door and pulled it open. “So if you’ve only come here to insult me or accuse me of everything from being a whore to tricking your precious son, then I’m done with this conversation.”
“I have a lot more to say.”
“This may be a crappy little house, Denise, but it belongs to my family, not yours. I’m asking you to leave.”
Denise hesitated. She had dark eyes like her son. Like Tyler. Emotions flashed through them.
“He told me about the letter,” Denise said grudgingly. “Ethan may not want to believe Rayanne lied to him, but it sounds exactly like her. If there was a problem she didn’t want to face, she avoided it. You having Ethan’s son would have been a big problem.”
Was that a peace offering? Like it or not, this woman was Tyler’s grandmother.
Liz crossed to her laptop and hit a few keys, then she turned the computer so the screen faced Denise.
The older woman’s mouth dropped open. Color bled away and her eyes widened. She stared greedily at the slide show Liz had started. All the pictures were of Tyler.
“He looks just like Ethan did when he was young. Like all my boys.” Her breath caught. “His smile is different.”
“It’s mine.”
Denise glanced at her, then back at the computer. “He’s eleven?”
“Yes.”
“This changes everything.”
Liz didn’t know if she meant the fact that they now knew about Tyler, or the