Love and Sorrow (Small Town Secrets Book 5), стр. 53
“Don’t we all?”
“No. I don’t. Any other woman would have been in my bed that night if I wanted.” I shifted, intrigued but hoping the amusement I felt wasn’t showing in my eyes. “You got my attention. You weren’t susceptible to my usual charms—and I had to have you. So, of course, when you mentioned you were having problems in math class, I offered to help. It was a natural. And you still had to be chased. You weren’t just bowing down to the almighty Justin.” As he started to sit up, I had to adjust, getting off his chest. “And about the time I was content with just being friends, because we somehow connected…that’s when we hooked up, when I just didn’t expect it anymore. You blew me away. I was just happy being around you.”
Holy shit. Maybe Justin would never in a million years profess anything similar to love—but this was the closest he’d ever get. Or had I pushed him into this corner?
I didn’t know. Unable to help myself, I stroked his cheek as his eyes told me that maybe he’d said too much. So I simply whispered, “I’m glad you didn’t give up on me.” Then, as if to assure him, I brought my lips to his and we kissed.
That was when the doorbell rang. Not once, but three times, followed by banging on the door. “What the hell?” I got up quickly, storming through the living room toward the front door. “This had better be good enough to wake my kids up for.” What if it was Kevin ready to fight the man who’d interrupted our date?
But there was no stopping Justin. He wasn’t far behind me as I opened the door to find Chelsea standing outside, her face mushed up like a puppy not getting attention. I tried to keep my voice to a whisper but I was loud nonetheless. “Are you fucking crazy? You’re going to wake my kids up. What’s your damage?”
“I want to see Justin. I know he’s here—his truck is right there.” She pointed to the curb where Justin’s truck was parked as if I couldn’t see it.
“I’ll get him. But I’d appreciate it if you’d use some manners from now on. One doorbell ring is enough. I mean, the lights are on, for Christ’s sake.”
But there was no getting Justin. He was already beside me. “What the hell’s going on here?”
I spoke before Chelsea could. “Your girlfriend’s here to pick you up.”
Justin’s voice was crazy calm. “Did you hear a word I said to you over the phone?”
Her voice quiet, she said, “Yeah. You said you were gonna fuck her.” Then she stuck out her bony finger, pointing at me as if I were in a lineup.
“Shit, woman, have you ever heard of a joke? Can’t I hang out with my best friend without having you totally freak out about it?”
At first, I’d been impressed at his smooth lie—until I realized that it completely dampened everything he’d just said on my kitchen floor. If he really cared, he would have sent this woman packing.
She asked, “How would you feel if I said that?”
“If your friend looked like Randi, I’d ask to join you.”
Without hesitation, Chelsea slapped him with her open palm while I wondered if I could shut the damn door. The air outside was cold and my wet underwear didn’t help. Shivering, I held my arms over my chest, wishing this would be over soon.
Justin sucked in a deep breath. “You know, this just isn’t gonna work.” Sure, his words had conviction, but he was still a player.
It just wouldn’t work with Chelsea.
The young woman practically whined. “I just want to talk to you.”
“Yeah, let’s talk.” Then, as if he needed my approval, he looked at me. “Call you tomorrow.”
I gave him a nod but wondered how smart that would be on my part. As they walked down the driveway, Chelsea continued nagging, and I looked around the neighborhood, waiting for porch lights to switch on as people tried to find the source of commotion outdoors. I went inside and finished watching from my front window, hoping they’d hurry up and leave before someone called the cops.
But they finally left—and, once again, I was alone with my thoughts. The most comical part of that entire debacle was that, no matter how I felt, Justin was no more mine than he was Chelsea’s. The man had never tried to pretend to be something he wasn’t, and he was not a one-woman man.
As I struggled with drifting off to sleep later that night, I tried not to wonder if Justin was making love to Chelsea, too.
* * *
On Tuesday, at Sarah’s appointment, I sat in the waiting room as usual reading for classes—but, about halfway through, the receptionist caught my attention. “Ms. Miller?”
“Yes?”
“Dr. Hopkins would like you to see you.”
I gathered up my things and followed her into the back. I half-expected to find that Sarah had had one of the outbursts she’d been having as of late—but the room was quiet, like a funeral, and my breath caught in my throat as I sat next to my daughter. She hadn’t even looked up at me, instead intently gazing at her pants as if she were solving a difficult math problem.
Rebecca said, “Sarah has revealed to me the source of her trauma.”
Maybe the news should have felt like a relief, but it didn’t. Instead, the tension in the room was so thick that I could barely breathe—and now I felt like I could understand why my daughter’s shoulders had been slumped for months. Forcing out words, I asked, “Can you tell me?”
Rebecca laid her notepad on the table. “Sarah asked me to help her tell you about it—and I want to make sure you’re prepared.”
“Prepared for what, for God’s sake?”
“I need to preface it