Bobby’s father leaned back and patted his son’s shoulder. “Let’s go have a drink to celebrate.” He gave a two-second pause in which Bobby must have grimaced, because his father chuckled and said, “A Coca Cola boy. There’s not a beer in this great state of Texas, or beyond, worth losing my son over again.”
“Coca Cola is Joey’s replacement vice for beer,” Kate explained. “One I happily supply.”
Joey glanced over his son’s shoulder at Kate, opening his mouth to respond, but instead, fixing his gaze on Jennifer. “Well, I’ll be damned. Jennifer Jones.”
Jennifer’s eyes went wide. “You remember me?”
“Of course, I remember the woman my son planned to marry and give me grandbabies with,” he said. “I was an ass when I was drinking but I never forgot a darn thing. Though I’d like to forget the part about being an ass.”
Jennifer gaped at his directness and Bobby’s arm slid to her back, a silent apology.
“We’d like to forget you were an ass, too,” Kate assured him. “But you keep opening that big mouth of yours. Good thing you mean well.” She glanced at Jennifer. “And he does.”
“Oh, heck,” Joey said, scrubbing his jaw, looking genuinely upset. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way. I meant I’m glad you’re still around.”
Jennifer ignored the magnetic pull of Bobby, willing her to look at him, and the loosely used term still around, and graciously replied, “I’m flattered you remember me.”
Kate seemed to sense the need to redirect the conversation and motioned toward the door. “Let’s go inside and catch up on things. The place is messy, but it’s home.”
Quite some time later, Jennifer sat at a wooden table in the dining area overlooking the living room, where she eagerly consumed every detail of Bobby’s old family home, from the wood paneling, old carpet and worn furniture, she could manage. That and her weight in the chocolate cookies Kate had baked earlier that day.
Jennifer brushed crumbs from her hands. “Those were so good. I have to stop before I eat as many as Bobby did.” He’d eaten at least six. She’d managed to down four herself, but she was only admitting to three.
“I went to work at a bakery after I left Joey,” she said. “Never thought I was the baking type but it was a job and I needed one. Next thing I knew, I loved it. I’m thinking about opening a little place of my own.”
“Based on these cookies, I’d say it would be a success,” Jennifer said. “I think I might need lessons.”
“Better yet,” she said, “you and Bobby come and let me cook for you. It’ll do Joey’s heart good. And mine, too.”
“I’ll do my best,” Jennifer said, her gaze drifting to where Bobby, and his father, were looking at photo albums and talking—Joey more than Bobby—but they were talking. Healing had begun. Unbidden, sadness washed over Jennifer. She couldn’t go making dinner plans with Kate. After Marcie and Mark’s wedding was over, she didn’t know when, or even if, she’d see Bobby again. For all she knew, something would trigger that flight mechanism in Bobby all over again, and he’d be gone.
Kate’s hand covered Jennifer’s where it rested on the table. “That man isn’t going anywhere without you,” she said softly, as if she’d read Jennifer’s mind. “I can see it in his eyes when he looks at you.” She patted Jennifer’s hand and leaned back, speaking louder, as if she wanted Bobby to hear. “That doesn’t mean Bobby doesn’t need a good butt kicking like his father now and then. But I have a feeling you are up for the job.”
Jennifer grinned. She liked Kate’s feisty personality more with each passing minute.
Two hours later, Jennifer and Kate watched Joey tear up as he hugged his son goodbye. “I’m proud of you, Bobby Evans,” he murmured softly, but not so much that Jennifer and Kate didn’t hear. Then Joey stared Bobby in the eye. “And if you don’t stay in touch, I swear I’ll come find you—I don’t care what kind of godforsaken jungle you’re in. Understood?”
Bobby nodded. “Understood, Pops.”
When Jennifer and Bobby pulled onto the highway, the silence inside the dark car was damning. “This was good, yes?” she prodded. “Your father is doing great, and Kate is wonderful.”
“Yes,” he said, his eyes glued to the road.
Yes. Nothing more. Jennifer sat there, contemplating pushing him to talk. Even sober, his father had triggered this, which seemed to prove her worst fear. His father had always been an excuse to walk away. It was always going to end like this, with Bobby finding some reason to shut her out again.
When they finally pulled up outside her condo, Bobby killed the engine, but not her whirlwind of emotions. She was clinging to a thread of composure. They sat there in silence for long seconds before Bobby said, “Jennifer—”