A Mother's Homecoming(31)
Which meant that Pam wasn’t going anywhere just yet.
Hell, I run a construction company. If he volunteered to work for half-price, would she be gone sooner? Or he could just bulldoze the place for her. Judging from the occasional glimpses he caught from the road, it wouldn’t take much to flatten the neglected place into nothingness. Some things couldn’t be saved; it might be better just to start over, rebuild.
He could just imagine the look on Gwendolyn’s face if he told his mother he was helping Pam renovate a house. The back of her head would blow off. He almost grinned at the rare prospect of his mother speechless.
Nick had muted a ballgame on television when Joseph called. Now he restored sound with the remote but still couldn’t concentrate. He ended up in the kitchen, randomly opening cabinets and inspecting refrigerator shelves with cursory interest. Boredom munchies. He didn’t really want to eat. He wanted something physical to do, something that would help him work off this prowling sense of … whatever it was.
He opened the high cabinet above the refrigerator and reached for the bottle of premium whiskey his semiretired boss, Donald Bauer, had given him at Christmas. As Nick headed for the dishwasher to get a clean tumbler, he noticed Faith’s phone on the counter. He pulled the spare charger out of a drawer. He reminded her on a near daily basis that the phone whose chief purpose was supposed to have been “for emergencies” wasn’t going to do her any good if it ran out of juice and couldn’t be used in an actual crisis. There was a bloop of acknowledgment when he plugged in the phone, and the dark screen brightened. Instead of the usual wallpaper, a picture of Faith and Morgan making crazy faces on the back porch, there was a photo of Faith and Pam, heads close together over a dark green tabletop, smiling at the camera.
He sucked in a breath at the unexpected vision.
They really did look a lot alike. In an alternate reality, this would have been a picture he’d taken—a routine family outing, a spontaneous shot of his wife and daughter. His throat tightened, and he ran his thumb across the picture, enlarging it so that it was zoomed in on Pam. Her face and hair and style were different, but her eyes hadn’t changed at all.
When they’d been together, he’d found it boldly erotic that she so frequently met his gaze during sex. Her lashes didn’t close often, and she rarely turned her head away from him. Instead she looked right into him.
With a groan, he set down the phone and guiltily shoved it away. Then he poured himself a double. Watching the alcohol splash into the glass kept his thoughts centered on her. Did Pam ever get this itchy, restless feeling? He was vaguely aware that Ed and Julia were gone most weekends; was Pam all alone in that house?
He pulled his own cell phone out of his pocket and padded barefoot onto the back porch. She’d called him the other day to confirm the time she was meeting Faith. Scrolling through recent calls, he clicked on the only one that was unfamiliar before he could stop to question his actions.
The phone rang twice and, without thinking, he greeted her the way he always had—ever since he’d asked her to be his homecoming date sophomore year. “Hey, it’s me.” As if taking for granted that she’d recognize him instantly, as if no time had passed.
“Hey.” Her voice was breathy, low, reminding him of all the times they’d been on the phone after midnight and she hadn’t wanted her mother to catch her.
They’d had some intense late-night discussions about whether or not they were “ready to go all the way.” They’d anticipated what it would be like, and some of those graphic conversations had been a lot hotter than their actual first time, which had ended too soon. Of course, they’d improved greatly with practice.
“Nick, you still there?”
He tossed back a swallow of whiskey. “I’m here.”
“Good. I’m glad you called.”
He’d been expecting more wariness—or even exasperation—and her welcoming tone knocked him off balance.
“Saves me the trouble of finding your card again,” she continued. “I wanted to talk.”
“You did?” Nick set his drink down on the picnic table he’d built. Pam’s voice in his ear had more kick to it than the whiskey; both at the same time were too potent. He needed to keep a clear head.
“Well, to say thank you, first of all. For today.”
“So you don’t think I’m a bully anymore for trying to talk you into it?”
She was quiet for a long moment, as if giving his words serious consideration. “I have a friend I think you would like. Annabel. She’s a firm believer in an unapologetic kick in the ass, if it’s warranted.”