The Next Best Thing (Gideon's Cove #2)(88)

“Yep,” I say, feeling my face ignite. I take a breath. “So what do you think?”

Mom cocks her head. “About what?”

“About Ethan and me,” I say a little crossly.

She shrugs. “Do what you feel you have to, honey.”

“I could really use some advice, Mom.”

She purses her lips and glances at a framed picture of Emma, a new addition to her desk. “I know you must want a baby,” she offers.

“Sure. A family of my own, all that.” I nod, glad she’s on the right track.

“You know, single women can adopt from Guatemala these days. I read an article—”

“Is that your way of saying you don’t approve, Mom?” I interrupt.

“Well, no,” she hedges. “I just…if you want to be with Ethan, do it. But if you’re looking for a sperm donor—”

“Mom!”

“So? You asked, I answered. Do what you want, honey.” She gives me an assessing look. “I can’t believe you wear that in public,” she murmurs, taking in my yoga pants and sweatshirt.

“I’m a baker, Mom,” I answer, standing up stiffly. “Even Coco Chanel would dress down for baking.”

“There’s dressing down, and then there’s hobo,” she murmurs.

I think of the cashmere sweaters in my closet. The secret shoes and expensive lingerie. The mahogany boots that cost me a week’s pay. The credit card bill that shocked even me last month.

“See you later,” I say. Mom smiles sweetly and with that, I leave, mother-daughter bonding complete. Forget the nap. Time for a little trip to Nordstrom’s.

“SO YOU’RE WITH ETHAN, HUH?” Ash’s black-painted lower lip wobbles, but she puts on a good front, jamming her nail-bitten hands into her pockets and raising those painfully overplucked eyebrows as if she’s really interested.

“Um…yeah.” I’m not sure what else to say.

“I guess that explains why he was always here. Shit, I’m so stupid. Should’ve guessed.” She tries to give a tough-girl smile, but her lips don’t quite make it. Ash shifts, her sooty hair swinging listlessly against her pale face. “So, like, how long has this been going on, anyway?”

“A while,” I admit.

“That’s great. He’s great. So are you. Good for you both.” A tear slips out and runs down her face, leaving a sooty smear.

“I’m sorry, honey,” I whisper. “I know you—”

“Don’t pity me, Lucy, for Christ’s sake! You can be with…I’m not…I gotta run.” She turns and walks down to her door, her chains rattling, her enormous, heavy shoes thudding. I hear a little squeak, and my own eyes fill. She’s crying. Dang it, dang it, dang it! If only kids weren’t so cruel, if Ash had a nice boy who was brave enough to see under that black paint and chains…

I’m about to face more music—Bunny’s has its last baseball game of the season. And guess who our opponent is? International Foods, of course, due to their freak win over Nugey’s Hardware. Doral-Anne’s pitching put them over the top, dang it all.

The urge to hide in my apartment has never been greater. Ethan and I are now common knowledge. Parker heard it at nursery school and left a cheery message—“Hey, heard you and Ethan came out of the closet! Good for you, girlfriend!” Bill at the post office expressed the commonly held and quite erroneous idea that Ethan and I fell under the  p**n o/incest umbrella. When I stopped by the library today, the entire four-person staff fell abruptly silent, smiling awkwardly as I returned my books and DVDs.

At the ball field, the Black Widows sit in a row in the exact center of the bleachers, a plaid blanket across their laps. They’re right next to Parker and Nicky, who are there with the Mirabellis. Nicky’s sitting on Gianni’s lap, tickling his grandfather on the chin.

The Mirabellis catch sight of me. Marie gives an awkward wave, and Gianni gives me a stiff nod. Parker waves, too, and I hope she’ll do something to ease things a bit. Tricky, though, since Gianni and Marie really want Ethan with her…

“Hi, Lucy.” It’s my sister, holding Emma, who’s bundled up in the cutest little fleece hoodie.

“Hi!” I say, giving her a hug. “Hi, Emma! How are you, sweetie? I missed you.” I give my niece a kiss, breathing in the smell of her shampoo. She grasps my finger and smiles, then spits up a little. “How are things, Cory?”

“Things are pretty good,” she says, wiping the baby’s face. “A little nerve-racking, but good. In fact, I was wondering if, um…if Christopher could play on Bunny’s team. Next year.”

I glance at the sidelines, where Chris is pulling on his umpire’s mask. “Really, Corinne? You’d let him risk his life through baseball?”

She gives me an uncertain smile. “Baby steps, you know?”

“He’s not wearing the Kevlar vest, is he?”

“He’s not.” She bites her lip.

“Good for you, Cory. And yes, of course he can play!” I kiss Emma’s little fist. “Maybe you and Chris would like to go out sometime. Leave the baby with me for a few hours.”

Corinne pales, but to her credit, nods her head. “Sure. Thanks, Lucy. That would be…lovely.” She pauses. “I heard about you and Ethan.”