A Different Blue(84)

heartfelt.

“You think so?” I whispered around the memories that clogged my throat. “You think we

belonged together, Bev?”

“No question about it, honey,” Bev declared, nodding her head as she spoke. I managed to

smile, hugging the picture to my chest. I'd never shared the fact that Jimmy wasn't my father

with Beverly. In fact, the only person who knew, besides Cheryl, was Wilson. The realization

struck me. I'd told Wilson things I had never told another soul.

Bev cleared her throat and straightened her blouse. I could tell she wanted to say something

more, and I waited, almost certain that she had noticed the changes in my figure.

“You're changing, Blue.” Her words echoed my thoughts almost verbatim, and I held the picture

tighter, mentally shielding myself from the discomfort of the topic.

“You've softened up some, and it looks good on you. And I'm not talking about the weight you've

put on.” She eyed me pointedly, pausing for effect, letting me know she was on to me. “I'm

talking about your language and your appearance and your taste in men. I'm talking about that

cute Sean Connery you're friendly with. I hope you keep him around. And I hope to hell you've

told him about the baby, 'cause I'm guessing it ain't his.”

“It's not. We're not. I mean . . . we're not in a relationship like that,” I stammered. “But

yes, he knows. He's been a good friend.” But Bev was more right than I wanted to admit.

Something was happening to me, and it had everything to do with Darcy Wilson.

“That's good then.” Bev nodded to herself and straightened some papers on her desk. “I'm your

friend too, Blue. I've been where you are, you know. I was even younger than you are now. I made

it through. You will too.”

“Thank you. Bev. For the picture, and . . . everything else.” I turned to go, but she stopped

me with a question.

“Are you keeping the baby, Blue?”

“Did you keep yours?” I asked, not willing to answer her.

“Yes . . . I did. I married the baby's father, had my son, and got divorced a year later. I

raised my boy on my own, and it was hard. I'm not gonna lie.”

“Did you ever regret it?”

“Regret keeping my son? No. But getting pregnant? Getting married? Sure. But there's no way to

avoid regret. Don't let anybody tell you different. Regret is just life's aftertaste. No matter

what you choose, you're gonna wonder if you shoulda done things different. I didn't necessarily

choose wrong. I just chose. And I lived with my choice, aftertaste and all. I like to think I

gave my boy the best life I could, even if I wasn't perfect.” Bev shrugged and met my eyes

steadily.

“Knowing you, I'm sure that's true, Bev,” I said sincerely.

“I hope so, Blue.”





Chapter Sixteen





[page]“But the fourth of July is an American holiday.” I wrinkled my nose at Wilson. “What in

the world are a bunch of Brits doing celebrating Independence Day?”

“Who do you think celebrates more when the child moves out, the parents or the kid? England was

glad to see you all go, trust me. We threw a party when America declared their independence.