This Matter Of Marriage (19 page)

“You embarrassed me. You discounted me. All so you could jump through hoops to satisfy your ex-wife.” Hallie had wanted to remain calm and disdainful; instead, her voice shook with anger.

His eyes widened with surprise.

“Friends don't treat each other that way,” she explained pointedly, forcing herself to calm down.

He waited a moment after she'd finished. “Okay, I apologize, but frankly, I don't think it was that big a deal.”

“It was to me.”

He briefly closed his eyes, as if to suggest she'd stretched the incident out of all proportion. “Get over it and let's go bike-riding.”

“Get over it?”
she gasped. “You left me to fall flat on my face! I told you—friends don't do that to friends. Now you want me to get over it, pretend it didn't happen?” Her hands tightened into fists. “Well, I don't need friends like you.”

“Fine,” he returned. “I don't need any grief from you, either. I get all I can handle from one woman. I don't need another one messing with my life.” He turned and stalked toward his house.

“It'd help if you accepted the fact that your marriage is over,” she shouted after him, too angry to censor her words. “In case you haven't noticed, Mary Lynn's engaged to someone else.”

Steve whirled around, his eyes hard and cold as they raked her. “I suggest you mind your own damn business,” he flared. “You can offer me all the marital advice you want once you've found yourself a husband.”

His words felt like a slap in the face. She held her breath against the unexpected stab of pain and retreated into her house.

D
amn, but he missed Hallie. He'd really blown it with her. He'd recognized his mistake the moment his eyes met hers and she'd escaped into her house. He'd seen neither hide nor hair of her since, which was quite a feat considering how often they ran into each other most of the time. They usually met at the mailboxes at the end of the day or walking out to their vehicles in the morning. Hallie must be avoiding him, and Steve found that thought damned depressing.

Even the kids had noticed. “Is something wrong between you and Hallie?” Meagan asked the weekend before Mary Lynn's wedding.

“Wrong? What makes you ask that?” He pretended ignorance rather than admit he'd insulted Hallie. It didn't help that she'd attacked him just after he'd been sucker-punched by his ex-wife.

Mary Lynn had come to him just the way he'd dreamed she would. Only that was as far as his romantic scenario matched what had actually happened. She'd come begging, all right, but not to ask him back into her life. She'd needed a favor, a rather large one as it turned out. Instead of rejoining his family, he would act as guardian while his ex-wife honeymooned with her new husband. He adored his kids; it wasn't that. His feelings had nothing to do with them and everything to do with Mary Lynn. Her remarriage was real to him now, and it meant that hope was truly over. He'd become just a convenience to his ex-wife.

Hallie's lecture afterward had felt like a kick when he was already down. Nevertheless, he shouldn't have said what he did. It was all too easy to recall the hurt and disappointment in her expressive brown eyes.

“Dad?” Meagan waved a hand in front of his face. “I was talking to you about Hallie.”

No use trying to hide it any longer. “We had a, uh, minor falling-out.”

“That's what Hallie said.”

Steve brightened. “Hallie mentioned it?”

Meagan shrugged. “Not really. I asked her if she wanted to come to Kenny's baseball game. It's boring there without someone to talk to, and I thought maybe Hallie could come. I think she might've too, if it wasn't for what you said.”

“She told you that?”

“No.” Meagan shook her head emphatically. “Just that you were angry with each other.”

Kenny walked into the house and slammed the front door. He threw his baseball mitt on the floor. “It's raining,” he said, sounding thoroughly disgusted. “How am I supposed to play ball when the weather's like this?” He fell onto the sofa, not bothering to pull off his muddy shoes.

Steve sat down next to his son. Everyone had been short-tempered this weekend, and he suspected it had little to do with the weather.

“We need to talk,” he announced. “You, too, Meagan.”

“Yeah, Meagan,” Kenny taunted.

“About what?” She ignored her brother and sat in the chair crossing her arms defensively, just the way Hallie had the last time they talked.

“We've all been in a bad mood,” he began. “And—”

“Not me,” Meagan insisted.

To be fair, she'd been the most even-tempered of anyone, including him.

“You think you're perfect.” Kenny glared at his sister and probably would have stuck out his tongue if Steve hadn't been watching.

The corners of Meagan's mouth edged upward. “That's because I
am
perfect.”

“I think I know what's wrong,” Steve said, unwilling to wade into an argument between his children.

“It's the rain,” Kenny said. “It rained last week during the game and I played terrible.”

“You
are
terrible,” Meagan muttered.

“I'm a lot better than you!”

“Kids, please,” Steve said, waving his arms in referee fashion. “I think all this has to do with your mother marrying Kip.” He dove into the conversation headfirst. At least he had the children's attention.

“I know how you feel,” Steve told them, putting his arm around Kenny's shoulders. “But I want you both to know that nothing's going to change with the three of us. It doesn't matter who your mother marries. I'll always be your dad.”

“I don't like Kip,” Kenny said sullenly. “He doesn't know how to throw a ball and he can't catch worth beans.”

A perverse part of Steve was thrilled to hear it. “But he was willing to try, and that's all that counts, isn't it?”

Kenny lowered his eyes rather than answer.

“How can you say nice things about Kip?” Meagan cried, and to his shock, his daughter's eyes filled with tears. “Mom's marrying him when she should still be married to you.”

That more or less summed up what Steve felt, but he couldn't say as much. Mary Lynn had her own life to live and she'd chosen to live it without him.

“Your mother has a mind of her own and she's in love with Kip, so much in love that she's decided to marry him. Now it's up to the three of us to accept her decision and be happy for her.”

The words stuck in his craw, but he managed to say them with enough conviction to sound as if he meant it.

“But I don't
like
Kip,” Kenny said for the second time.

“Give him a chance,” Steve urged. His children had to live with Mary Lynn's new husband, and it would behoove them to make their peace with him. “I'm sure he isn't so bad once you get to know him,” Steve added.

“He isn't you,” Meagan said, getting to the heart of the matter.

It hurt to let go of the dream of getting back together with Mary Lynn. It hurt like hell. That was one thing, but having Kip step into the role of stepfather to his kids was another.

“I love you both,” Steve whispered and held out his arms. Meagan and Kenny crowded next to him on the sofa. He wrapped an arm around each one, loving them with an intensity that made his heart ache.

“Nothing's going to change between us,” he promised, struggling to find the words to reassure them. “I'm still your dad. I'll always be here for you, no matter what happens.”

“I wish Mom—”

“Shh,” Steve said, and pressed Kenny's head against his shoulder.

“You'll always be my dad, no matter what?” Kenny repeated. “Do you promise?”

“You can count on it, son.”

“Even if
you
get married again?”

Steve couldn't see the likelihood of that happening. “Even if I get married again,” he vowed. Nothing on earth was strong enough to keep him from his children.

“Feel better now?” he asked after a few moments.

“I do,” Meagan confessed.

“Me, too,” Kenny said.

Mary Lynn stopped by to pick up the kids an hour later. Steve didn't walk outside to chat with her the way he did most Sundays. Frankly, he couldn't see the point of it. Why torture himself?

School was out for the summer, and the kids were at the stage where they weren't sure what to do with themselves yet. He'd make a point of seeing more of them and concentrating on being a good father. Actually he was looking forward to having his children with him the two weeks Mary Lynn and Kip were away. It might help ease the loneliness—his, anyway.

The silence that followed their leaving seemed to echo in Steve's mind. He turned on the television, hoping to fill the place with noise, but that depressed him even more than the quiet had.

He decided what he needed was a workout, so he donned his running shoes and sweats. Every once in a while the urge to jog hit him. And right now, pounding out his frustrations on the pavement suited his mood perfectly.

He left the house just as a car pulled up in front of Hallie's—one of those new BMWs he'd admired from afar. The Z3, the one from that James Bond movie.

It took Steve a couple of minutes to realize that the well-dressed man who'd stepped out was Hallie's date. Steve did a number of warm-up exercises, which were little more than an excuse to stick around long enough to get a good look at the guy she was dating this time.

He had to admit this character was better-looking than the others had been. Successful, too, judging by the car he drove.

Steve hoped things worked out for Hallie. And he hoped he and Hallie could be friends again. He missed the laughter she brought to his life and the companionable hours she'd spent with him and his kids.

Yeah, he should've kept his damn mouth shut. He wished he knew how to repair the damage, but he was at a distinct loss when it came to letting a woman know he was sorry. His marriage was a good example of that.

He set off on his run, getting his heart rate up to aerobic level in a few minutes. He soon discovered that his mind was filled with thoughts of Hallie. Not Mary Lynn. Hallie.

He wasn't sure if he should be grateful or infuriated.

On impulse, Steve left a one-word note on her windshield the next morning.

SORRY.

Nothing happened. He was convinced she hadn't noticed. And then, the following morning, he found a piece of paper tucked under his windshield wiper. He unfolded it.

YOU'RE FORGIVEN.

Smiling, Steve stuck it in his pants pocket and headed for work. Todd noticed his improved mood right away.

“You're in good spirits this morning,” he commented.

Steve poured himself a cup of coffee. “What do you think is appropriate for a man to give a woman when he wants to apologize. Flowers or candy?”

“What woman?”

“Never mind. Flowers or candy?” Steve repeated.

Todd frowned. “Does this have something to do with that neighbor of yours? Sally? Hattie? No, Hallie, that's it. Hallie.”

“How'd you know?”

“Come on, Steve, you talk about her practically every conversation we have. She must be a comedian because you're constantly going on about something funny she's done. I expect to hear you two are hot and heavy under the covers any time now.”

“Me and Hallie?”

“Yeah, you and Hallie.”

Lovers? The two of them? He thought about it a moment, then shook his head. “Nah. It wouldn't work.” It was kind of unfortunate, because he liked her. And because he knew instinctively that they were well matched in ways that mattered.

“Why not?”

“Well…” A long list of excuses crowded his mind. So many that he found it difficult to sort through them all and spit out just one. “Mainly because she's seriously looking for a husband.”

“So?”

“Been there, done that, bought a T-shirt,” Steve returned flippantly. “I like her as a friend, but I don't want to complicate our relationship with anything physical.”

“That sounds like a pretty weak excuse if you want my opinion.”

“I don't,” Steve said. Then he shook his head. “You see, I don't know if the friendship would hold up if we mixed the two.” Why ruin a good thing with sex?

“That's not the way I see it,” Todd said. “Friends often make the best lovers. The sexual aspect of the relationship is enhanced by familiarity.”

“Maybe.” Steve was willing to concede that much. “You never did answer my question. Flowers or candy?” He wanted to divert Todd from the subject of sex, which only served to remind him how long he'd gone without it. Months. Many months. Longer than any other period in his adult life.

“Flowers,” Todd said, adding a tablespoon of sugar to his coffee mug. “Definitely flowers.”

Steve was leaning toward candy, thinking Hallie would want to share. He'd had a craving for chocolate truffles lately. Todd was right, though; flowers would be for Hallie, but he would've been the one eating the candy.

On his way home from work Steve stopped at an upscale grocery store and bought a single red rose, a small box of chocolates and, to be on the safe side, a bottle of chilled white wine. That way he'd covered all the bases.

He showered, changed clothes and waited until he was certain Hallie was home. Grabbing the wine and chocolates and placing the long-stemmed rose between his teeth, he rang her doorbell.

Hallie answered, took one look at him and laughed. Her smile was like sunshine, and Steve basked in its warmth. “Friends?” he asked.

“Friends,” she answered softly, and let him inside.

Even though they'd only been on the outs a week, it felt like a month. He was lighthearted with relief now that the friendship had been rescued. But a rose between his teeth was one thing; a heartfelt apology another.

“What I said about getting yourself a husband before offering me marital advice,” he started, then cleared his throat. “I regretted it as soon as the words left my mouth. I'm sorry, Hallie.”

It seemed to him that her bottom lip quivered ever so slightly, but he might have been wrong.

“What you said was true,” she told him, her voice impassive. “I spoke out of turn.”