"Yeah." Slapping patties together was a fine way to release a little violence. "Pretty mad."
"Does that mean you're not stuck on him anymore?"
She looked over, and her own temper cleared enough that she could see the worry in Bryan's eyes. "What are you getting at, Bry?"
He moved his shoulders, kicked his feet. "Well, you've never been stuck on anybody before. He's mostly always here, and he brings you flowers and hangs around with me. You kiss each other and stuff."
"That's true."
"Well, Con and I thought maybe you were going to get, like, married."
A quick arrow shot straight into her heart. "Oh."
"I thought it would be kind of cool, you know, because Jared's cool."
She put the patties aside. To give herself time, she ran water, washed her hands and dried them thoroughly. All the while, all she could think was, what had she done to her little boy?
"Bry, you know that people kiss each other all the time without getting married. You're smart enough to know that adults have relationships, close relationships, without getting married, either."
"Yeah, but if they're really stuck on each other, they do, right?"
"Sometimes." She skirted the table to lay a hand on his shoulder. "But it's not always enough to love someone."
"How come?"
"Because..." Where was the answer? "Because people are complicated. Anyway, Jared's mad at me, not at you. You can still be pals."
"I guess."
"You'd better go out and make sure those kittens keep out of trouble. I'm going to fire up the grill."
"Okay." He dragged his feet a little as he started toward the door. "I was thinking if you got married, he'd be sort of like..."
"Sort of like what?" she asked.
"Sort of like my father." Bryan moved his shoulders again, in a gesture so very much like her own when she blocked off hurt, another shaft of pain shot through her. "I just thought it would be cool."
Chapter Twelve
Bryan's wistful statement dragged at her mind and spirits all through the evening. To make it up to him for a disappointment she felt unable to control, she made the casual meal into their own private celebration.
All the soda he could drink, french fries made from scratch, wild, involved and ridiculous plans on how they would spent the fortune they would amass from selling her paintings.
Trips to Disney World weren't enough, they decided. They would own Disney World. Box seats at ball games? For pikers. They would purchase the Baltimore Orioles—and Bryan would, naturally, play at short.
Savannah kept up the game until she was reasonably sure both of them had forgotten that what Bryan really wanted was Jared.
Then she spent the night staring at the ceiling, thinking of all the wonderful, hideous ways to pay Jared MacKade back for putting a dent in her boy's heart.
Hers wasn't all that important. She knew how to hammer it out. Time and work and the home she'd continue to make would all help. She didn't need a man to make her whole. Never had. She would see to it that her son never felt the lack of a father. But she would punish Jared for raising Bryan's hopes.
The bastard had made himself part of their lives. Flowers, damn him. Playing catch in the yard, taking Bryan over to the farm, awakening her in bed the way no one, damn him again, no one ever had.
Then looking down at her from his lofty lawyer's height. Questioning her morals and her actions and her motives. Making her feel more, then making her feel less, than she'd ever been. Making her question herself.
He wasn't going to get away with it. Without realizing it, she shifted to the center of the bed, so that it wouldn't feel so empty. He couldn't worm his way into their lives, then start making demands. Who was she, where had she been, what did she want? She didn't owe him any answers, and she was going to prove it.
He'd wormed his way in, all right, she thought, scowling at the ceiling. He'd made her feel foolish and inadequate and, for the first time in ten very long years, vulnerable. Now he thought he could worm his way out again because she wasn't just exactly what he preferred in a...