The Memory of You (Sanctuary Sound #1)(82)
Probably the latter, given the way the past twelve hours had been going.
The car horn blasted again.
“I’ve got to go.” He stared at her. “We’ll talk later.”
She watched him leave, disappointed that he hadn’t tried to touch or kiss her.
Determined to finish the job before he and Emmy returned, she vigorously applied mud to the corner joints.
“Stefanie?” Molly called out from the kitchen before she appeared in the archway.
“What?”
“Your mother would be very proud of the way you stand up for yourself.” She turned to go, then rested her hand on the trim and glanced back. “My son is guarded, but he’s not hardened. Not yet, anyway. I hope you don’t give up on him.”
Emmy dashed ahead on the sidewalk and swung open the door to Campiti’s. “Here we are, Mommy. Just like I told you. Look at that painting.” She smothered giggles with her hands after pointing at the mediocre mural.
“I remember this place,” Val replied, then muttered, “I think you gain five pounds just from walking through the door.”
She could stand to gain ten pounds and would still be thinner than most. Not that he cared. In fact, this might be the only time in his entire life that he hadn’t enjoyed coming to this restaurant. He had no idea what Val had said to Steffi, but judging from Steffi’s attitude, their conversation hadn’t been pleasant. He’d made matters worse by letting his irritation with Val spill over onto Steffi.
“Sit next to me, Mommy.” Emmy scooted onto the hard prefab booth bench. “Do you like cherry soda?”
“I’ll stick with seltzer, thanks, honey.” Val scanned the menu, which was printed on the paper place mats.
Two salad sides—garden and Caesar—neither of which were particularly great. She turned it over, frowning in her search for better options.
“Can I order chicken or salmon over a salad?” She flattened the menu on the table again.
“Salmon?” Emmy shook her head. “Mommy, this is a pizza place, not a real restaurant. You have to eat pizza. But don’t worry. It’s really good.”
Val’s pretty smile appeared when she wound an arm around their daughter’s shoulders and squeezed her before kissing the top of her head. “Okay. I’ll try the pizza.”
For just a second, Ryan’s heart stuttered. Several months ago, he might’ve enjoyed being here with his wife and daughter. He’d wanted to keep his family together, despite his heart yearning for that elusive deeper connection. Now, staring at them from across the table, he mourned the loss anew. From now on, he’d be stuck trading off holidays and birthdays and vacations with his daughter. He and Val would each miss out on days, weeks, or more of Emmy’s life.
The reality of divorce hit him this way, in little waves, whenever he saw an old photo or remembered a happy moment. He wondered if other divorced couples experienced the loss that way, too, and if it would fade in time.
Val tickled Emmy’s nose. “Now tell me, what have you been up to? Any more sailing trips?”
“No. But tomorrow’s not a workday, right, Daddy? We could go tomorrow! We could take Mommy, and I can work the tiller.” Emmy’s trusting Cindy Lou Who smile cast him as the Grinch, because he had no intention of sailing with Val. She, not he, had called it quits. He shouldn’t have to entertain her and her games now.
“I’m sure your mom has to get back to Boston tonight, honey.” He then held his hand up to signal for the waiter. “An extra-large pepperoni, well done, two Cherikee Reds and a seltzer, and . . .” He gestured to Val in case she wanted a salad.
“The garden salad, please.” She offered the young waiter that gorgeous smile, which flustered the kid, as she probably hoped it would.
She constantly sought reassurance of her attractiveness, especially from other men, like John. Her flirtations had always angered him because of the disrespect, but maybe Steffi was right. Maybe she’d been desperate to provoke him because she hadn’t known how else to secure his attention.
He’d lain awake many nights wishing to love her more. Searching his heart for whatever it was that was missing, and hating the little voice that whispered the name of the ghost he’d never quite escaped. The first love who now wanted a second chance. A woman who also might still be keeping one foot out the door, whether that was intentional or because she wouldn’t—or couldn’t—address her problem.
“I don’t want to foist anything on you, but John’s actually in Nebraska on unexpected business, so I don’t need to rush back to Boston,” Val said.
It took Ryan a second to remember what they’d been discussing before the waiter arrived and his mind had wandered. “What’s in Nebraska?”
Val waved her hand. “Some Berkshire Hathaway board thing . . . I don’t know.”
Ah yes. The rich and famous movers and shakers of the world. People Ryan had never been particularly impressed by. Certainly not as much as they seemed to be impressed with themselves, anyway.
“Yay!” Emmy practically bounced out of her seat. “Mommy can have a sleepover!”
Ryan loved his daughter, but not enough to spend the rest of this day with Val, let alone another one. And if Val was angling for some kind of reconciliation, it’d be kinder not to do something she might misconstrue as an opening. “Actually, Emmy, I had planned to surprise you tomorrow. There’s a big fair called Oktoberfest in a nearby town. It’ll have rides and games and crafts and stuff.”