A Turn in the Road (Blossom Street #8)(10)

“It won’t be awkward, if you think about it,” Grant reasoned. “You haven’t remarried and I’m single again. Wouldn’t it feel a bit odd for the two of us to sit separately?”

“You’re single now, but you haven’t always been,” she said tartly.

Grant stiffened. “All I’m asking is that you consider it. We’d sit together during the ceremony and stand together in the receiving line. If you agree, I’d appreciate it, but if not…” He took a deep breath, as if to calm himself. “Well, if not—I’ll understand. I guess what I’m trying to say, and doing a rather poor job of it, is that I’ll accept whatever you decide.”

Bethanne couldn’t suppress her retort. “In other words, you want the world to know all is forgiven? That we’re still friends? That’s a noble thought, but I’m not sure it sends the right message.”

He looked down at his drink. “I know it may not be possible for you to ever completely forgive me.”

Bethanne felt a twinge of shame. She sighed heavily. “I apologize, Grant,” she said. “I don’t hate you. Really.” She’d given him twenty years of her life. He was the father of her children. And there was a part of her that still loved him.

Grant’s eyes flickered with hope. “Can we do that? The two of us together for Andrew’s sake on the most important day of his life?”

“I’ll think about it,” she promised.

“That’s all I ask,” he said, and didn’t raise the subject again.

Their meals arrived shortly afterward. Grant spooned salsa over his enchiladas. Bethanne remained silent as she waited for him to hand her the bowl.

“I understand Annie’s got a hot date tonight,” he said.

Although Annie rarely mentioned her conversations with her father, Bethanne knew the two of them spoke regularly these days.

“What’s your impression of Vance?” Grant asked, sliding his fork under the steaming enchilada.

Bethanne finished spooning salsa over her own dish as she gathered her thoughts. “He’s a good kid…a bit immature, I’d say.” She paused. “But then, so is Annie.” She took another sip of her drink. “He’s an archaeology major and graduated this year. As far as I know, he’s going to graduate school.”

“Annie seems to think he’s about to pop the question.”

“So she said.” Bethanne set her fork down. “Frankly, I feel they’re both too young for marriage. If they do become engaged, I hope they decide on a lengthy engagement.”

Grant frowned. “You don’t feel Vance is a good choice for our daughter?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“It’s what you implied.”

Bethanne’s gaze was direct. “No, what I said is that I hope she’d have the sense to wait before making that kind of commitment.”

Grant took a bite of his enchilada. “Were we too young?”

She shrugged, uncertain how to answer. Like Annie and Vance, Bethanne and Grant had attended the same college. He was a business major and she’d been pursuing a degree in education. They’d met over the summer between her junior and senior year. From their first date, Grant Hamlin had become her entire world. They were engaged by Christmas, and while her parents liked Grant, they’d wanted them to delay the wedding until after Bethanne graduated.

Waiting, however, felt impossible. Grant was out of school and job-hunting. He was hired by Boeing in their corporate office, and with his first paycheck bought her an engagement ring.

Against her parents’ wishes, Bethanne dropped out of school just six months shy of graduation. From that point forward she’d dedicated her life to being a good wife and mother. She’d worked briefly in a department store, but only until Andrew’s birth.

“Too young?” she repeated his question. “Perhaps…”

They finished their meal quickly after that, avoiding awkward subjects. When they left the restaurant, Grant walked her to her car.

“I enjoyed dinner,” he said, standing beside her. “Did you?” The driver’s side door was open and she’d already thrown her purse on the passenger seat.

“I did.”

“And your dinner companion?”

She gave him a warning look: don’t push it. “Tonight brought back a lot of memories,” was all she said.

“It did for me, too.” He touched her car, tracing patterns in the dust. “We were happy, Bethanne,” he said, so softly she almost missed it.

She nodded, suddenly sad. “We were,” she agreed. “At one time.”

He tentatively raised his hands to touch the curve of her shoulders. “I’d give anything to take back the past six years,” he said, staring down at her.

“Make that seven,” she added. His affair with Tiffany had been going on long before he’d asked for the divorce.

“Seven,” he amended, and exhaled slowly. Then something in him seemed to deflate, and she read the regret in his eyes. “Tell me…is there any hope for us?”

As she considered his question, she saw him tense, as if anticipating a blow.

“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. Everything was just so confusing….