Waiting On You (Blue Heron #3)(84)

“Not really.”

“She is. Admit it.”

“We’ve been on three dates, Colleen.”

“Sex?”

“No comment. And you’d better not be sleeping with Lucas.”

“Really! So you’re doing it. Good. Is she blonde? I bet she is. She is, isn’t she? Lovely. You know, Con, for a while, I thought you were g*y. Figured you and Jeremy would make a great couple—”

“Okay, fine. I’ll shut up about Lucas if you’ll shut up about everything else.”

She smiled over the rim of her glass. “Deal.”

“Just don’t come crying to me when he—”

“You know what? I’m gonna go talk to Mom. It’s come to that.” She walked over to their mother. “Hi,” she said with a dutiful kiss.

“There’s your father and That Whore.”

“Yes.” Savannah was somewhere, then; Colleen scanned for her sister. Hopefully, she’d be off playing with some other kids; but more likely, she was hiding inside, eating in secret so Gail wouldn’t chastise her, poor kid.

Stan, Stan the Hairy Man was nowhere in sight. “No date for you, Mom?” Colleen asked.

“No,” Mom said, not taking her eyes off Dad and Gail. “That Stan was quite unappealing, it turns out. A little too fascinated with his work. All he could talk about was infected bowels and intestinal parasites.”

“And that put you off, did it?”

Her mother still stared at Dad, who was excellent at not seeing his ex-wife. His hand was on Gail’s back, just above the legendary ass.

Poor Mom.

“Here’s the thing, Colleen,” Mom said slowly, and Colleen braced for bitterness. “I never got over him. I should have, I wanted to, I know he cheated on me and I know he’s completely over me, but I still love him.”

There was no bitterness. And no false naïveté, either, no “lapse in judgment” excuse. It was, horribly, just a fact.

“I’m sorry, Mommy,” she whispered, squeezing her mother’s hand.

“I’m a laughingstock.”

“No, you’re not! You’re great. They love you at Blue Heron, and you have a lot of friends, and—”

“No. I’m a laughingstock, a menopausal idiot who didn’t know her husband was cheating and made every excuse in the book for him.”

Mom’s eyes were full of tears, which made Colleen’s eyes fill, too, because if there was one thing she couldn’t stand, it was her mother crying. “You deserve better than Dad.”

“Well, where is better? I’m ready for better! That hairy colon doctor wasn’t exactly better, asking me about how many times a day I—”

“Hey, Jeanette, how’s it going?” It was Bryce. He leaned in and kissed her mother. “You look as gorgeous as always. We’re just bringing out the watermelon.”

We seemed to mean Paulie, who held a giant watermelon in each arm. And for some reason, she’d donned a yellow Thneed.

“How’s it hanging?” Paulie asked, jerking her chin at Mom.

“I thought we talked about wardrobe,” Colleen murmured as Bryce continued to flirt with her mother.

“It got chilly,” Paulie said.

“Fine.” Those watermelons had to weigh fifteen pounds each. “Let him carry one of those and feel manly and stuff,” Colleen suggested in a whisper.

“Manly, right. I get it. But his hand is really hurt.”

Sure enough, Bryce’s hand was still bandaged to boxing-glove proportions. “He can hold a watermelon, Paulie. Give him a chance to be strong and helpful. Right? Remember? Girl/boy stuff?”

“You’re gonna dance with me later on, right, Jeanette?” Bryce was saying. “I’ve had a crush on you for ages.”

“You’re adorable, you know that?” Mom said, much cheered. “Oh, there’s Mrs. Johnson, probably gloating about Faith being pregnant. There’s Carol, too. She has eleven grandchildren, Colleen. Eleven.” She leveled the famed Catholic martyr look over her shoulder. Colleen merely raised an eyebrow.

“Bryce,” she said, turning back to the project at hand, “help Paulie out, okay? What a champ you are, Paulie, but heck, those must be getting heavy.”

“No, they’re fine,” Paulie said. “Oh! Wait, I mean yeah, they’re pretty heavy. Really heavy. So heavy. Uh, Bryce maybe you could hold one of my watermelons?”

“You bet.”

Perfect. Colleen smiled as Bryce fumbled for a watermelon, Paulie’s face practically bubbling as her blushing took hold. All good, Bryce groping in the general area of Paulie’s chest.

She left the young lovers and headed inside to look for Savannah. The sound of her father’s fake laugh floated over on the breeze, and Colleen looked in his direction. He saw her...but instead of a smile or a nod, he gave her the drive-by glance, his eyes passing over her but not acknowledging her in any meaningful way.

Her chest felt hollow.

When she was little, Colleen had been prone to stomach bugs, and Dad would sit on the edge of her bed and read to her. Mom would get the sympathy pukes if she was too nearby, so it was just Dad and his good smell, his starched shirt and steady voice that marked those nights, making them almost fun, the vomiting aside.