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“And your dad…he never remarried.”
She laughed hollowly, thinking of the shell of a man she’d last seen the week before the Fourth of July. He’d retired from his job as an accountant a few months earlier and claimed he’d decided to travel. Instead he’d immediately holed up in Vegas and started spinning the wheel.
“No. He turned to a different sort of mistress.”
“Drinking?”
She shook her head. “Gambling.”
“What about your mom? Have you talked to her since then?”
“I’ve spoken to her,” she said, taking another strengthening mouthful of wine. She still remembered the phone call and letter she’d gotten out of the blue several years ago. Her mom had changed her mind about being away from her family and wanted them back. She’d grown tired of living alone and didn’t want to spend the rest of her life drifting from place to place, or so she’d said. It wasn’t until Vicky had asked her to meet for coffee that the truth had come out about her living situation. Could Vicky come to visit her at the group home instead?
It had floored her that her mom had been an hour away from them for over a year at that point and they’d never known. Before that, she’d wandered from place to place, trying to lay down roots but never succeeding. Her illness had drawn her back home—and to the people she’d left behind.
Since then, there had been good days and bad. Vicky visited her religiously, even when she hated the idea of spending an afternoon in that sterile place of artificial cheer. What bothered her even more were the attacks of guilt over keeping secrets from her family every time she left. Originally she’d planned to tell them once her mom was doing a little better, in the hopes of helping to facilitate a happy reunion. Ha, what a crock.
Lately her mom had been getting worse despite being on new meds. And Vicky’s secret had weighed her down even more.
When she didn’t say anything further, he took the glass out of her hand and drew her into the circle of his arms. He held her head against his shoulder, urging her wordlessly to let go. To trust him that much.
Twice in one night he’d asked for her trust. But her tears weren’t nearly as easy to coax free as orgasms. They’d been shoved down for too long.
She’d never cried in anyone’s arms before, but she ached for the comfort of someone—Cory—holding her tight while she broke apart. For once, she didn’t want to have to be so strong that she constantly felt weak.
“You can, you know.” His voice sounded rough. “I’m here.”
She risked a glance up at his face. He was already staring down at her, his handsome profile silvered in moonlight from the window behind him. She couldn’t breathe around the ball of need inside her chest, and she damn sure couldn’t cry.
She gripped the lapel of his jacket and leaned up, intent on kissing away the frown on his sulky mouth. Half an inch away from his lips, the scene from the kitchen flashed back into her mind.
“We’re together and madly in love.”
Right. Sure they were. Just imagining them becoming lovers had seemed far-fetched, but him falling for her? Loving her with the same passion they’d fought with for so long? Too much to hope for.
Hell, she hadn’t even been sure she wanted that with him. She’d recently had some strong niggling suspicions that she could be nudged in that direction, yes, but fantasies weren’t reality. She knew that better than anyone.
Now she was lying to not just one family, but two. Cory’s mom had been such a support to her, and this was how she paid her back? By not only pretending to date her son, but by claiming to love him? And that she was loved back? Those three little words took her harmless lie and somehow made it a giant, irreversible violation.
“What’s wrong?” he asked gruffly as she moved back to her corner of the couch.
“You caused all this to happen. You and your big mouth,” she muttered, even though that wasn’t exactly true. It was their big mouths that had led them to make out on that gazebo, and now they were both paying the price.
She waited for him to call her out for blaming him entirely. Shockingly, he didn’t.
“I know. Believe me, I know.” He rested his head on the back of the sofa and stared at the ceiling. “It shouldn’t make a difference. A lie’s a lie. But saying too much always leads to problems later on down the road.” He sighed. “The question is what the hell do we do now? It’s not like I can take the words back. So I suppose we have no choice but to…take things up a notch, to add veracity to our big blowup. That won’t be long from now,” he added, clearly thinking his reminding her of how soon their relationship would end would work in his favor.
Wrong-o.
She stared over his head out the window, going back to those moments they’d shared in the barn. The power of that encounter had shaken her more than any other she’d ever had. Maybe because she’d so willingly surrendered some of her control. Maybe because it was Cory. Maybe both. The more time they spent together, the more she couldn’t help thinking beyond the moment, even knowing it was dangerous. Especially with him.
Every little girl had her favorite fairy tales, and one of the last of hers was finding someone to share her life with. The most important ingredient in her bucolic farm fantasies.
She choked back a laugh. Who’d’ve thunk it? Up-for-anything Vicky Townsend, dreaming of farms and marriage and babies. Of the home she’d had for such a short time as a child and wanted with every fiber to create again.
Compared to the other stubborn dream she still held—her mother ever getting better—part of this one at least was in reach. She could be Cory’s girlfriend for a few weeks. Even if it wasn’t real.
Her family life years ago hadn’t exactly been real, either. So she should be adjusted by now.
