The boy most likely to succeed polished off her sandwich and took a swig of beer. “Did you think about Parrish after you left?”
“I tried my best not to.”
“Remember how we were going to leave here? Go to the big city and make our mark?”
“You were going to make your mark. I was mainly going to shop.”
Colin would have enjoyed that, but Ryan barely seemed to hear her. Even as kids, they hadn’t shared the same sense of humor. His had always been more literal. Like Winnie’s. He peeled up the edge of the beer label with his thumb. “Did you ever think about me?”
Weariness from a long day caught up with her, and she sighed. “Go home, Ryan. Better yet, I’ll go.”
She tossed down her napkin and started to rise, but his hand shot across the table and grabbed her wrist. “Did you?” he said fiercely.
She was in no mood for this, and as she fell back in her chair, she jerked her hand away. “I thought about you all the time,” she retorted. “When Darren Tharp slapped me across the room, I thought of you. When he screwed around on me, I thought of you. And the night I staggered into a Vegas wedding chapel with Cy, both of us so drunk we could barely say our vows, I thought of you then, too. One morning— And this happened after my divorce, mind you, because, unlike my loser husbands, I didn’t screw around. One morning I woke up in a seedy motel with a man I could have sworn I’d never seen before, and, baby, you’d better believe I thought of you then.”
A mixture of emotions played across his face: shock, pity, and the faintest trace of satisfaction that came from knowing she’d been punished for what she’d done to him. His all-too-human reaction quenched her anger, and she gave him a rueful smile. “Before you get too smug, I’d better tell you that I stopped thinking about you the day I met Emmett Hooper. I loved that man from the bottom of my heart.”
Ryan’s satisfaction faded, and she knew what was coming next. She held out her hand to put a stop it. “Don’t bother jumpin’ on the pity train for me. Emmett and I had more happiness in our short marriage than most couples have in a lifetime. I was very lucky.”
He surprised her by going all starchy. “Winnie and I’ve been very happy.”
“I wasn’t making comparisons.”
“All couples hit rough patches now and then.”
She and Emmett hadn’t. He’d died too soon.
“Anything I can get you, Mr. Galantine?” The waitress’s eyes were bright with curiosity as she sidled up to the table. “Anything else, miss?”
“I’ll have another beer,” Ryan said, “and bring her some of that chocolate pie.”
“Just my check,” Sugar Beth said.
“Make it two pies,” he said.
“Sure enough.”
“I don’t want pie,” Sugar Beth told him, as the waitress left. “I want to go home. And since you’re such a saint, apparently it hasn’t occurred to you that Winnie’s going to hear all about our little tête-à-tête here, and I’m guessing she won’t take it well, so this might not be the best way to patch up your differences.”
“I have nothing to feel guilty about.”
He’d answered too carefully, and Sugar Beth studied him. “You want Winnie to hear about this.”
“Hand me those fries if you’re not going to finish them.”
“I don’t appreciate being used.”
“You owe me.”
“Not after Sunday.”
He studied the ring his bottle left on the table. “You’re talking about Gigi.”
“Still as sharp as ever.”
“I’m not apologizing for being upset.”
“Then you’re an idiot. You and Winnie managed to turn me into forbidden fruit, and you can bet that Gigi’s already figured out a way to see me again.”
Instead of an angry rejoinder, he traced the water ring with his finger. “You’re probably right.”
The waitress returned with the beer, two pieces of pie, and Sugar Beth’s check. As she left, Sugar Beth stirred the last bits of ice in her Coke with her straw. “She’s a great kid, Ryan. Right now, she’s asking the questions that most of us don’t get around to until we’re older.”
“She hasn’t asked me anything.”
She arched an eyebrow.
“We have a great relationship,” he said defensively. “We’ve always talked.”
“Before she turned into a teenager.”
“That shouldn’t make any difference.”
“You sound like you’re ninety. You remember what it was like. I’m not her parent, and I’m also notorious, which makes me an irresistible confidante.”
“What kind of questions is she asking?”
“Privileged information. You’ll have to trust me.”
He gazed at her for a long moment. She waited for him to say she was the last person he’d trust, but he didn’t. “Colin’s right. You have changed.”
She shrugged. He fiddled with his beer bottle again. “Do you ever wonder what would have happened if we’d stayed together?”
“We wouldn’t have. My self-destructive streak was a mile wide. If I hadn’t left you for Darren Tharp, I’d have left you for somebody else.”
“I guess you couldn’t help it.”
“Wait a minute. You’re not going to wave the olive branch that easily, are you?”
“Your father was an insensitive son of a bitch. If he’d given you a little affection, maybe you wouldn’t have adopted your scorched-earth policy with men.”
“Girls and their daddies.”
He flinched.
“Ryan, it’s not going to be that way with Gigi. She knows you love her. She’ll come through. Just give her some room to make a few mistakes.”
He switched directions before she could see it coming. “Don’t zero in on Colin, Sugar Beth. He bleeds like the rest of us, and he still has a lot of wounds from his wife’s suicide.”
“Worry about yourself.” She pushed her pie across the table. “And don’t use me again as a pawn in your problems with Winnie.”
“Is that what you think I’m doing?”
“Yes.”
He leaned back in his chair, looking her square in the eye. “What if I said I still thought about you?”
“I’d believe you, but I wouldn’t attach any importance to it. There’s not a single spark left between us.”
“You’re still a beautiful woman.”
“And you’re a gorgeous man. Ken and Barbie all grown up. We look real good together, but we don’t have a lot to say to each other.”
That made him smile, and she thought she felt something ease between them. Before it went away, she gathered up her purse and pushed her check across the table. “Thanks for dinner. And good luck explaining this to Winnie.”
The house felt abandoned as Ryan entered. No wife waiting for him with a glass of wine and a smile. No rock music blaring from the upstairs bedroom. He tossed his suit coat over the back of a kitchen chair, on top of the sweater he’d left there yesterday. His Sports Illustrated lay open on the table. The counter held a litter of advertising flyers mixed in with bills and brokerage statements he hadn’t taken the time to sort through. He’d always thought of himself as being well organized, but when he’d gotten dressed this morning, he couldn’t find either his good black belt or his nail clippers. He tried to imagine Winnie’s reaction when she heard he’d been with Sugar Beth. Maybe this would finally shake enough sense into her to bring her home.
The front door banged.
“Dad!”
Gigi sounded frantic. He dropped the newspaper. She’d eaten dinner tonight with Winnie at the Inn, and as he rushed into the foyer, images of disaster flashed through his head.
She stood just inside the front door, her eyes pools of misery, her chest quivering. She looked so young and forlorn. He pulled her into his arms. “Honey? What’s wrong?”