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Shed thought they were in this together, but suddenly all the warnings came back to her. It was the girl who got pregnant.
"Come with me," she whispered to him, pulling him aside. He followed her to a dark, quiet place beside the bleachers.
She wanted desperately to be held and kissed and reassured, but he just stood there, staring down at her, his confusion as obvious as his love.
"What?"
"I just . . . Ill miss you over the break. " She wished hed invited her along, but it was a family vacation.
"My dad set up a meeting in January. With a lawyer. " He flinched, looked at her throat. "About adoption. "
"Just give it away," she said, hearing the bitterness in her voice. That would be so easy for him.
"We should at least listen. " David looked ready to cry, right there on the football field, with his friends only a few yards away.
And she knew: None of this was easy on him.
"Yeah," she said, "sure. We should listen. "
He looked at her. She felt distant from him; older. "Maybe Ill get you a ring. Aspen has tons of cool jewelry stores. "
Her heart did a little flip. "Really?"
"I love you," he said softly.
The words sounded different than before, as if hed murmured them from far away or mouthed them underwater. By the time she got home, she couldnt remember the sound of those words at all.
ANGIE READ THE INSTRUCTIONS FOR MAKING RICOTTA gnocchi for at least the fourth time. She did not consider herself a stupid woman, but she couldnt figure out how the hell she was supposed to use the tines of a fork to form the gnocchis.
"Forget it. " She rolled the dough into a rope and cut it in small pieces. Shed decided to learn to cook; that didnt mean she wanted to make it her lifes work. "Good enough. "
She then stirred the sauce. The pungent aroma of sizzling garlic and onion and simmering tomatoes filled the cottage. Not as good as Mamas, of course; you couldnt get that homemade aroma from a store-bought sauce. She only hoped that none of her family stopped by.
At least she was cooking.
It was supposed to be therapeutic. That was what her sisters always said. Angie had been desperate enough to give it a try, but now she knew. All that mixing and chopping and scraping hadnt helped at all.
I wont live through it all again. The highs, the lows, the obsessions.
Maybe she shouldnt have told Conlan about Lauren. Not yet anyway. Maybe she should have let their love take hold first.
No.
That would have been like the old days, with her in a lonely wilderness that bordered his but didnt cross over. Though he didnt see the nuances of her change, she did.
Honesty had been her only choice.
Once or twice today shed meandered down the road of regret, almost wishing she hadnt invited Lauren home with her, but in truth, she couldnt really go there. She was glad to be helping the girl.
She washed a bunch of fresh basil leaves and began to chop them. They stuck to the knife and formed a green glob. She cut what was left into slices with her scissors.
The front door opened. Lauren walked into the house. She was soaking wet.
Angie glanced at the clock. "Youre early. I was supposed to pick you up--"
"I thought Id save you the trouble. " Lauren peeled out of her coat and hung it up on the iron coat rack, then she kicked off her shoes. They thunked against the wall.
"Put your shoes away neatly, please," Angie said automatically, channeling her mother. At the realization, she laughed.
