The Memory of You (Sanctuary Sound #1)(4)
“Who’s that?” Emmy pointed outside, past his mother, to a woman—to Steffi Lockwood?
He nearly dropped the cookie as his hand fell to his side. Why the hell was Steffi hanging out with his mother? Before he realized what was happening, he found himself standing in the middle of the patio. “What’s going on here?”
Those brusque words scraped along the scarred part of his soul.
“Ryan Andrew Quinn! What kind of greeting is that?” His mom cast him “that look” she gave when she expected him to behave. She then leaned toward Emmy, who’d followed him onto the porch. “Emmy, this is Miss Lockwood. She’s going to turn this porch into a room for you to hang out in with your new friends.”
Steffi fiddled with her tool belt, looking like she’d rather be anyplace other than in Ryan’s sight line. Good. “Hi, Emmy. You can call me Steffi.”
“Miss Lockwood is fine,” Ryan said without thinking. A quick glance at her ring finger suggested she’d never married. No surprise. Commitment hadn’t been her strong suit, and he didn’t need his daughter getting overly familiar with another woman who didn’t keep her promises.
“Hi.” Emmy gave Steffi a serious once-over, her gaze snagging on the tool belt before lingering on the black-and-turquoise work shoes. Quite a different look from Val and her friends, none of whom would be caught dead sporting overall shorts, a freshly scrubbed face, and a ponytail. Emmy then turned toward his mother. “Can we paint the room pink, Memaw?”
“I don’t think so, Pooh. But maybe your dad will paint your bedroom pink.” She smiled at Emmy, whose head bobbed with excitement.
“Yes! Please, Dad. Please, please! The same pink as my room at home.” Her big hazel eyes fixed on him. If he dared say no, the waterworks would start.
Not that he had time to paint a picture, much less a bedroom. But Emmy probably needed something familiar in a time of tumult. If pink walls would hit “Pause” on the behavioral regression he’d noted since Val had split, he’d have to make time. “We’ll see, princess.”
“Maybe Mom will help.” Her hopeful smile shoved his heart through a meat grinder.
He wouldn’t discuss Val in front of Steffi, so he deflected. “Let’s leave these two out here to finish their discussion.”
“Actually, hand me those dirty towels before you get sand everywhere.” His mother bundled the towels in preparation for her sprint to the laundry room. “I’ve already given Stefanie my thoughts. Why don’t you weigh in? I’m sure you have an opinion about space for a big-screen TV or some such.” She glided past him, patting his cheek on her way. “Emmy, come sit at the table and I’ll pour you some milk for those cookies.”
Ryan thought to turn his back on Steffi, because even unpacking his moving boxes would be preferable to dealing with her. Then he decided he’d better not hand her the satisfaction of seeing him agitated. That’d only give her the misimpression that she held sway over him, which she didn’t. She hadn’t in many years.
If memories of how she’d blown him off still nicked his heart like a razor blade, it was only because he might mourn the fact that the girl he’d cherished had turned into a bitch.
He widened his stance and crossed his arms, reminding himself to play it cool. “I’m shocked to see you here.”
“Yeah, well.” She adjusted her overalls. “I was surprised to get the call.”
“I’m sure you were.” He stretched his stiffening neck, the litigator in him coming to the fore. With a cold smile, he asked, “What made you come? Morbid curiosity?”
“No.” She stood still, unflinching now, with a slight tip of the chin. “I need the work. Claire and I just got our company off the ground. I can’t afford to say no to anyone.”
“That must be uncomfortable for you, given how much you like your freedom.” Damn. Guess he couldn’t keep his cool. His sarcasm constituted the first blow of an argument they should’ve had years ago. Now it’d be pointless. He should change the subject. “How is Claire?”
Claire McKenna, the childhood friend who, along with Steffi and Peyton Prescott, had formed the middle school triumvirate known as the Lilac Lane League. They’d all remained close friends until Peyton stole Claire’s boyfriend . . . or so he’d heard.
“She’s doing well.” Steffi’s expression remained alert and somewhat wary.
“Really? Even after her boyfriend dumped her to run off with Peyton?” He shook his head with a derisive chuckle. “So much for the Triple L’s infamous loyalty.”
He empathized with Claire’s pain, having suffered through duplicity more than once.
“Peyton didn’t set out to seduce Todd, and I know she feels horrible about hurting Claire.”
“Are you defending Peyton?” Actually, that shouldn’t surprise him. He clenched his jaw and released it, momentarily picturing himself striding toward Steffi and backing her up against the wall until she trembled or groveled.
Her sigh was less than satisfying. “I’m not happy about all of that, but Peyton didn’t get together with Todd until after he left Claire.”
“Left Claire for Peyton,” Ryan reminded her.
“I know, but Peyton’s like a sister. I hate what she did, but I don’t hate her, so I’ll forgive her even though it’s hard. As for Todd, Claire is better off without him. He obviously didn’t love her. When she realizes that and meets someone new, maybe she’ll forgive Peyton so we can all be friends again.”