Summer on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #6)(73)

He opened his mouth, then closed it. “Yes, well…perhaps I should have, but there never seemed to be a good time.”

“Really?” she muttered. Funny how he’d managed to get what he wanted before telling her this. She felt humiliated. Foolish. Naive. All these weeks she’d allowed the romantic daydream to grow, picturing the three of them as the perfect little family. No wonder he’d never kissed her. If she hadn’t been walking around immersed in her stupid fantasies, she might have caught on earlier.

“I apologize if you think I was leading you on.”

“Forget it,” she said, focusing some distance beyond him, refusing to meet his eyes. She held herself stiff and couldn’t wait to escape. This was what she got for risking her emotions. It wasn’t worth it; deep down she knew she’d never fall in love again.

“I feel it’s important that we remain friends for Ellen’s sake,” he was saying.

“We can certainly be cordial.” What seemed most important at the moment, however, was getting away from Tim. She needed to think, to absorb what he’d told her.

She made a show of looking at her watch. “Do we have the check yet?”

In response he raised his hand to catch the waiter’s attention.

“I’ll want to meet Vanessa,” Anne Marie said. No way was she letting her daughter go off with someone she’d never met. She didn’t care if Vanessa was “involved” with Tim. That wasn’t any kind of recommendation or guarantee.

He blinked, his expression wary.

“If she’s going to be with you when you have Ellen…”

Tim relaxed. “I suppose she will. Some of the time, anyway.”

“In that case, I need to meet her, don’t you agree?” She did her best to keep the irritation out of her voice.

“Yes, of course. That’s not a problem.”

Another thought entered her mind, one that set off warning bells. “How did you and…Vanessa happen to meet?”

“I don’t think that really matters,” he said, bristling noticeably.

“She’s in AA, too?” Anne Marie guessed.

Reluctantly Tim nodded.

“How much sobriety does she have?”

“She had three years.”

“Had?”

“With everything that’s been going on with you and me and Ellen, well…she slipped up.”

“Just a minute here,” Anne Marie said, her eyes narrowing.

“Not more than an hour ago, you told me you were accountable for your own sobriety. Didn’t I hear you say that?”

“Yes…”

“Are you now saying that you’re taking responsibility for Vanessa’ s sobriety, too?” she asked. The question appeared to shake him. “No.”

Anne Marie held his gaze. “Ellen can meet Vanessa, but I have to be there when she does. Otherwise the deal is off.”

“Fine,” he said curtly.

“Good. Then we understand each other.”

All at once the room seemed unbearably stuffy. Oppressive. Anne Marie dropped her napkin on the table and stood. “I’ll wait for you outside.”

He stood, too. “I’ll take care of the bill. I won’t be long.”

She needed breathing room. As the night air cooled her fevered skin, Anne Marie resisted the urge to cover her face with both hands. In all her life she’d never felt more embarrassed. How stupid she’d been. What a romantic fool. And worse, Tim knew. He’d read the longing in her heart, saw it in her eyes. He knew. If she could’ve disappeared, simply vanished, she would gladly have done so.

Chapter 26

Phoebe Rylander

“Night,” Hutch said, lingering in the doorway of Phoebe’s condo. He leaned close and kissed her gently. This wasn’t the f irst time they’d kissed that evening. “I really have to leave now.”

“Night,” she whispered. She hated to see him go. They’d spent a wonderful evening, a memorable evening. They’d been together on Sunday, too, but even a day seemed too long to be apart. When he’d suggested they see each other tonight, she’d readily agreed.

It became more and more apparent that Hutch was nothing like Clark. In fact, he was the complete opposite of her former f iancé.

Hutch was thoughtful and caring and funny and different. He made her laugh and had lightened the load of pain she’d carried after her breakup with Clark. And yet she probably wouldn’t have given him a second look if not for the knitting class. That class, which she’d enrolled in on impulse, had opened her eyes in so many ways.

Phoebe didn’t want to think of herself as demanding or shallow when it came to the men she chose to date. Then again, perhaps she had been. Most of the men in her past had been like Clark—

highly successful, established in their careers, urbane and handsome. Hutch was rather ordinary-looking but he possessed those other attributes, too. The ambition and the success. Only he was…better.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said, moving slowly into the hall. Meowing, Princess followed him out, apparently as unwilling to let him go as Phoebe was herself. She picked up her cat and held her close.

“Tomorrow,” she said. Leaning against the doorjamb she waited until he was inside the elevator and had disappeared from sight. The time had gone by so quickly, she could hardly believe it was already after ten.