The Life She Wants Part 14

"He has it. And so would you."

"I can't remember a time you ever-"

Riley stopped talking. Of course there was a time. When she came home pregnant and needed the support of her family. Her mother didn't demand complicated explanations, didn't ask a lot of questions, didn't force her opinion. She asked Riley what she wanted to do and stood firmly beside her. Her grandparents' first reaction was that she'd better get married and take her lumps, but June protected her, kept her safe from the opinions of others, didn't judge her. June had done everything in the world to help her.

"Never mind," Riley said.

"Indeed," June replied.

"Am I supposed to be happy Adam has someone even if she's someone I can never have as a friend?"

"You should be very quiet in your speculation because you don't know and neither do I. I haven't seen Emma in many years. Who knows if she feels affection or just friendship? In fact, who knows if Emma is the one he's-"

"Oh, it's Emma," Riley said. But then she stopped herself from saying more. In her heart she knew that shy little blush was related to Adam. Because that's the kind of luck she had where that woman was involved. And also, she could still read Emma. And Emma could no doubt read her. Just like when they were young.

"I just hope I'll see her before too much longer," June said. "I can't tell you how often I've thought about that girl, worried about her. I practically raised her. For a while there I thought she'd la.s.soed the moon, but that didn't last long, did it? It nearly crushed the life out of her." She tsked, shook her head, took a sip of her wine. "I think your splitting up with Emma was as hard on all of us as it was on you."

I was a pregnant eighteen-year-old-nothing was as hard as that, she thought. "Always poor little Emma," Riley said meanly. "Do you think... I mean, is it at all possible... Honestly, you think Adam has been waiting for her? All these years?"

June thought about that. She shook her head. "Not deliberately," she said. "And yet..."

They sipped their wine quietly. After a long spell, Riley broke the silence. "We're going to remodel this old kitchen. Get all new appliances."

"I like my appliances and I'm comfortable in this kitchen. It's like my skin."

"We're going to do it anyway. For resale value."

"When I'm dead," June said.

"I think that will be too late," Riley said.

"But not for me," June replied.

"I'm going to have to pa.s.s on the meat loaf. I have other plans."

"Oh?" June said.

"Since Maddie's going to be at Kylie's, I can grab a salad on the way home, get in my softest pajamas and read. I'm in the middle of a really good book."

"You haven't finished your wine," June said.

"I'm anxious to get out of these panty hose..."

"You want to ditch me so you can think about all this. Listen, don't think too much, Riley. Adam tends to act on instinct-just kind of feeling his way. You know things happen for a reason."

Not always, she thought. But yes, sometimes. Whether this was one of those times was still an unhappy mystery.

She stood. "I'm not going to think. I'm going to read and relax and enjoy a quiet evening. I hope I haven't disappointed you."

"I'm fine. I've become very happy about my own quiet time."

Riley kissed her mother's cheek. "I won't say a thing. I won't even make a face. I'll have to concentrate, however."

"It will go better that way, I promise."

Riley slipped into her coat, went to her car, drove to the nearest grocery parking lot and sat for a few moments. Thinking, of course. And letting her eyes well up with tears before she made herself stop. It was so crazy, thinking that Adam had, for all these years, thought of Emma, wanted Emma. Pined for her. To the point that the second she turned up, he was cooked. Done for.

Riley's hurt was deep. In all those sixteen years, Riley had felt such loneliness and guilt. And her family was now so happy, so relieved to have Emma back! Riley hadn't had the courage to trust a friend since Emma left.

She'd done everything she was determined to do in the last fifteen years. She'd focused on her business and her daughter, taking care of her mother, as well. Her best friends were the women she worked with and her family. In all that time, while other people had forged and ended relationships, sometimes moving on to loving unions that lasted, Riley had preferred not to be distracted or tempted. Even Jock, who she had once secretly wished would come to her and beg forgiveness and say he'd always loved her, had married and divorced. The only exception was her mother, and June claimed to be happy as she was; she had family and good friends and apparently no interest in romance. But Riley a.s.sumed that happened to old people.

Here was Riley, thirty-five and alone. No interested man. No partner. Sitting in a d.a.m.n parking lot at night, crying because her friend had let her go sixteen years without forgiving her for that one little... Okay, that one major mistake.

She had a sudden vision of herself making meat loaf for charity, taking in old ugly dogs and watching movies alone for the rest of her life. Whimpering because Emma would never again be her friend. And it was her own fault.

She dug around in her purse until she found a business card. She flipped it over and found the cell number. She texted: Are you completely out of melons already?

What came back was: ??.

She texted: I'm going to have some dinner at the Chinese Palace. Have you eaten? Riley.

When four minutes had pa.s.sed, four of the longest minutes she'd ever endured, during which she could feel extreme embarra.s.sment about texting him, she was ready to go into the grocery and get a salad. Then her phone pinged with a text.

On Wayside and Baysh.o.r.e?

That's it.

Ten minutes or less.

I'll get a table.

Riley kept telling herself it was an experiment, just to see if she had any game left after all these years. She'd had the most uncomfortable feeling in her chest when she realized that not only had Adam managed to brave a relationship, but Emma had somehow bounced back, too, after probably the most destructive relationship of all time. So who better to try this out on than a guy who intrigued her and was as safe as dating a member of the Royal Guard. He was a cop. If he gave her the least trouble, she'd call the police chief, whom she'd met on several occasions at community functions. The only thing that could make this better would be if one of her teams cleaned the chief's house.

While she waited for Logan Danner, she ordered wine and pot stickers. This might take more than one wine. Would he give her a breath test before she got in her car?

Her pot stickers had barely arrived when he came in the door. And she got instant nerves. He was attractive; he wore jeans, a beige sweater over a white shirt, a leather jacket. His light brown hair was just a bit too long. Not s.h.a.ggy, but no buzz cut for this guy. And he had a bit of a beard growth. That s.e.xy I-have-just-too-much-testosterone growth.

He slid into the booth across from her and grinned. "Date night!"

"Don't get frisky," she said. "This probably won't work out to be anything."

He shook his head. "What an att.i.tude." The waiter came over and he asked, "Have you ordered dinner, Riley?"

"Just the pot stickers."

"Great. Bring me a Tsingtao," he said to the waiter.

Riley had a look of confusion on her face.

"Beer," he said, smiling. "In the end, you asked me out. How's that for a major upset?"

"This isn't really a date. It's two people sitting in the same booth, eating dinner."

"So you just couldn't stop thinking about me, is that it?" he asked.

"That is not it at all," she said.

He put his napkin on his lap. "So tell me about your day. That's how most dates start out. Which, by the way, is usually two people sitting in the same booth, eating dinner."

She leaned her head into her hand. "I knew I'd live to regret this..."

He laughed at her. "Okay, we'll start with my day. I was off today. I had stuff to do. I went to the gym, stopped by my mother's office-her car has a weird warning light so we swapped cars and I took hers to the shop. I did some laundry and ran the vacuum around the house, a couple of things I do every month like clockwork." He stopped talking to check her expression. "I was starting to think about dinner but I had something more lively in mind."

"Like a bar?"

"Yes. I have a foolproof system. When I'm flying solo I go to a noisy place where there will be people, some I know, some new to me. When I have a date, I pick a quiet place like this. Want to know what's different about tonight? I'll tell you-usually if I have a date and pick a quiet place like this, the woman talks my leg off and I don't have to work very hard to seem interesting and charming."

"Huh," she said. "I really don't date."

He sat back against the booth's padded seat. "I guess that makes me pretty special."

"I guess it does," she said. "It also makes you the only person I know who has any interest. Besides my brother, that is."

"I'll try to elevate my status," he said. His beer arrived and he took a drink. "Just out of curiosity, why isn't anyone interested? Or am I going to understand why in another ten minutes?"

"It's a long story, really..."

"Maybe you could give me the bullet points," he said.

"Okay, let's see. I'm a single mother. When my daughter was little...very little...I was so focused on working, staying one step ahead of the bills. I absolutely did not consider a date. I probably wasn't very..."

"Nice?" he asked, lifting his brows.

"I was going for another word. Like receptive."

"So you were so not receptive that before you knew it, you gave off a vibe?" He c.o.c.ked his head and waited.

"And this is your interesting, charming side?" she asked. She sighed. "Let's just order," she added, opening her menu.

"Vibe," he said under his breath.

She lifted her hand and the waiter was back at their booth.

"I'll have the chicken and broccoli with rice and egg drop soup and..." She looked at him. "Need a minute?" she asked.

He didn't even open the menu. "Shrimp lo mein, garlic chicken, another beer."

"You already knew what you wanted?" she asked.

"I've been here before. I live about two miles down Wayside. So-how old is your daughter?"

"Fifteen," she said, taking a sip of her wine, regretting more with every moment what she'd done and completely at a loss as to why she'd done it.

"And I'm your inaugural reentry into the world of men and women?"

She shrugged. "Time flies."

"So now we're going to have to try to unlearn a few things, right?"

"Like?"

"Like having dinner out with someone of the opposite s.e.x can be fun. Getting to know someone new is like... Well, making a new friend who has had experiences you haven't had can be stimulating. I can tell you lots of things about police work if you're interested, and you can tell me lots of things about...about..." He indicated her with his hand.

"Cleaning house," she supplied.

"You clean houses?" he asked.

"Sometimes, but mostly I own a company that provides housekeeping services and other stuff. I bet you're fascinated."

He shook his head. "This is going to take longer than I thought," he muttered.

"What makes you such a know-it-all?" she asked. "Didn't you say you're divorced?"

"That wasn't my idea," he pointed out. "But we parted on very good terms, attesting to the fact that I'm an extremely amiable guy with lots of patience and am very nonjudgmental."

"Then why'd you get divorced?"

"Now, that's a long story," he said.

Elbow braced on the table, she leaned her chin in her palm. "The service here is slow. Give me the bullet points."

He sighed. "My wife wasn't cut out to be married... To a man..."

"Huh?"

He looked trapped. "She's playing on the other team, okay?"

"Are you serious?"

"As a heart attack," he said, making fast work of his beer.

Riley started to laugh. She covered her mouth, but then she just couldn't keep it in.

"I'm sure you're going to tell me what about that's funny..."

"Riley?"