In Your Dreams (Blue Heron #4)(123)
A figure rose from one of the Adirondack chairs on her porch, and Em’s hand went to her holster. Just before she drew, she realized who it was.
“Kevin. I almost shot you,” she said calmly.
“Hi, Emmaline,” he said, smiling. “How are you?”
* * *
FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, Em was in her pajamas (screw Kevin, he’d seen her in worse), had a glass of wine in one hand and had poured Kevin a glass of water, since he was still alcohol-free, dairy-free, etc., etc. He was petting Sarge, who didn’t seem to care that this was the man who’d once broken Mommy’s heart and was mooing a love song as Kevin scratched his ears. Em planned to have a firm talk with her puppy later on.
“So what brings you to Manningsport?” she asked, sitting down.
“I have an Ironman in Buffalo,” he said, smiling. Still had those damn beautiful eyes. Otherwise, the shock of his physical state was still, well, shocking. “Figured I’d come by and say hello.”
“Hello.”
“You like living here?” he asked. “In your grandmother’s house?”
“I do. Why are you here, Kev? You and Naomi split up already?”
He laughed. “No, no. We’re really happy.”
“Great.”
“How’s Jason?”
“Who’s Jason?”
“Your date? At the wedding? Your fake fiancé?”
“Jack. He’s fine.” She took a sip of wine. “So you didn’t answer my question, Kev. Why would you come see me? Aside from your wedding, I haven’t talked to you in three years.”
He looked down at Sarge’s head, which was resting on his knee as the faithless cur gazed up adoringly. “I’d like to apologize,” he said.
“Go right ahead.”
He gave a little snort of laughter. “You always were direct.”
“One of the many things you said you loved about me.”
“I did love you. I’m sorry I stopped.”
Em took another largeish sip of her wine. Blue Heron. She’d run out of her Lyons Den stash, and this had been in the fridge. It was excellent. Steely and bright with notes of fairy’s breath and sunrises. Whatever the case, it slid past the lump in her throat quite easily.
Kevin was just looking at her, a faint regretful smile on his face.
She put the glass down. “I’ll never understand what happened with us. I mean, I’m over you—now—but I never could figure that out.”
He nodded. “The thing is, Em...I hated myself. I couldn’t think of anything except food and how disgusting I was. Everything else was fake, was just a very brief distraction from food and fat. I hated how fat I was, and I couldn’t wait to eat again. When I started to lose the weight and rework my life, I...” He shrugged. “I hated you for loving the lazy, sad, pathetic person that I was.”
“And you loved Naomi for hating you.”
“Yeah. Ironic, huh?”
“So ironic. Well, thanks for coming by. What is it, two hours to Buffalo?”
He didn’t move. “Not every love is meant to last.”
“Do you have that on a T-shirt somewhere?”
He grinned, surprising her, and she felt an unwilling (and small) rush of affection for him. “I’m really sorry, Em,” he said. “You’ll always be my first love. I’ll always be glad I knew you.”
Her eyes stung.
That was a damn fine apology. Or a line from a Nicholas Sparks book. Or both. “Right back at you.” She cleared her throat. “I wish you all the best, Kevin. I really do.”
He took her hand. “And, Em...I’m sorry for what I said in the People article. You were never unsupportive. You were pretty great, in fact. And I wish you all the best, too.”
She gave his hand a squeeze. “I don’t know how I would’ve made it through eighth grade without you,” she said. She might’ve been like Alyssa, in fact. But because of the love and acceptance Kevin gave her, she’d never had to find out.
She looked up, and, for a second, he looked like the boy she’d loved when she was so young, and her heart swelled. She and Alyssa both knew the might of first love, the huge, beautiful, terrible power it had.
And then the feeling was gone, and in its place was...nothing. Not in the bad way...in the way a room feels after you’ve tossed out the old furniture and put on a fresh coat of paint.
“I should go,” Kevin said.
“It was good to see you.” And even better to mean it.
She hugged him quickly at the door. “Give Naomi my best,” she said, and she didn’t even feel the urge to choke or roll her eyes.
“Will do.”
“And good luck in the race.”
“Thanks! It’s a tough one, all right. But you know how it is. Excuses are for people who don’t want it bad enough. Naomi says—”
“Drive safely!” she said and closed the door.
Sarge came over and licked her knee.
“That went well, don’t you think?” she asked. “Me, too. And this, my friend, calls for some Ben & Jerry’s. We can talk about your whorish ways later.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
JACK GOT BACK from Savannah just in time for dinner with Dad and Mrs. Johnson. “How was your trip, my darling boy?” Mrs. J. asked after he finished his third helping of roast pork, peas and salt potatoes, his favorite.