Meant-to-Be Mom Read online

  Nodding, the boy looked away, the breeze ruffling his too-long hair. An approaching storm, maybe. In more ways than one, Sabrina thought with a mental grimace. “He said you saved his butt.”

  She had to laugh. “I’m not sure how much I saved your father’s butt as I kicked some other kids’—although not literally, I’m no She-Ra—”

  “Who?”

  “Never mind,” Sabrina said, waving her hand. “But, yeah, we were close. Then, I mean.”

  “So, what happened?”

  Her elbow propped on the back of the bench, she leaned her cheek against her knuckles. “We grew up? Went our separate ways? That’s what happens with most childhood friendships. Especially if you don’t hang around. And why are you asking me this?”

  “So you weren’t, like, boyfriend and girlfriend?”

  “No,” Sabrina said softly. Because it was the truth. Despite what had happened. And no way was she going to be that honest, especially to a thirteen-year-old boy. “Did your dad say we were?”

  “No. But...”

  His foot started bouncing up and down as he swept a hunk of hair out of his eyes, and Sabrina ached for him, even if she didn’t completely understand why.

  “Things working out okay? Living with your dad?”

  His eyes narrowing, the kid lifted his chin, his jaw tightening. “Dad’s cool.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  The boy’s gaze slid to hers. “You were his friend, don’t you remember?”

  Sabrina smiled. “Nobody was a better friend than your dad. But ‘cool’ is not a word I would use to describe him then. Nerdy, yes,” she said on a chuckle, and the corners of the boy’s mouth twitched. “And before the other night, remember, we hadn’t seen each other in nearly twenty years. People change.”

  “I guess.” Wesley licked his lips. “He...tell you why we’re living with him?”

  “Yes.” She paused, praying for the right words. “I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, I got mad, when he told me. But to be fair, I don’t know your mom. What her reasons were for her decision—”

  “You’re sticking up for her?”

  “God, no. But it’s not my place to judge her, either.” Never mind that the look on the kid’s face made Sabrina want to smack the woman senseless. Not to mention immediately regret even getting into it with the boy.

  Wesley scrubbed one palm over his knee, then crossed his arms high on his chest. As though he were the one being cross-examined. “At least now...” His nose flared as he hauled in a breath. “At least Dad wants us. And it feels good to know—” she saw his baby Adam’s apple bobble before his gaze slammed into hers, blasting her with every ounce of courage she imagined the poor kid could muster “—that we come first in his life.”

  It was everything Sabrina could do not to laugh. At the irony, the déjà vu, the universe’s sick sense of humor...whatever. Except Wesley’s completely justified concern went far deeper than a spoiled six-year-old’s hissy fits. That his concern had no foundation in reality was beside the point. “Honey...I’m no threat to what you guys have with your dad. If that’s what’s worrying you.”

  “You sure?”

  “Positive.”

  He looked away again, twin dots of color blooming in his cheeks. “I—we—just don’t want things to get messed up. Again.”

  “I’m sure you don’t,” she said, her chest aching. “But don’t you think you should be talking to your dad about this? Not me?”

  His gaze bounced off hers, only to scuttle away. “All he’ll say is that nothing’s wrong. Or that we’re imagining things. Crap like that.”

  “You don’t trust him to be honest with you?”

  That got another half-assed shrug. Only, as much as Sabrina wanted to refute the kid’s paranoia or distrust or whatever—because she couldn’t imagine Cole ever deliberately being dishonest with anyone, let alone his own kids—truth be told, there were a million reasons why people weren’t always up-front with those they loved, and not all of those reasons were bad. In fact, most of them weren’t.

  And besides, how would she know what was going on inside Cole’s head? She barely knew what was going on inside hers.

  But she knew enough to say, “I think maybe what you’re seeing is...uncertainty. That we’re not really sure what we are to each other anymore. But believe me, I’m not looking to start—or restart—anything with your dad. For my own reasons, okay? I’m not saying we might not be friends, although even that would only be temporary, but that’s all it would ever be. Because I’m not sticking around,” she said to his frown. “I have a career in New York I need to get back to.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah. So you can tell your sister no worries, okay?”

  “How did you—”

  Now she did laugh. “My twin brother, Matt, was always very protective of me, too. Especially after our parents died, when we were little. So I’m really good at spotting the signs.”

  With a grimace, the kid turned around...only to flinch, which made Sabrina look up.

  To see Cole not even ten feet away, practically radiating What the hell?

  Chapter Four

  “Dad!” The blush spread across his son’s cheeks like wildfire. “I didn’t see you there.”

  “So I gathered,” Cole said quietly. “Now go rescue your sister before Lizzie talks her ears off.”

  His face still red, the boy pushed himself to his feet, barely enduring Cole’s one-armed hug before striding off across the grass. Cole watched him for a moment, then turned back to Sabrina, thinking he might’ve found the situation amusing if he hadn’t known how much his son was hurting. As was the woman in front of him, almost delicate in a wispy, pale blue dress that looked like something straight out of The Great Gatsby. Definitely not the sharp-tongued dynamo who’d never think twice about sacrificing her own safety in order to right a wrong. She would’ve made an awesome addition to the Justice League—a five-foot-two spitfire in a bodysuit and cape. And boots with four-inch heels. Oh, yeah—

  Man. Clearly the heat was getting to him. Not to mention the crowd. He’d never been a party person under the best of circumstances, even in college. The noise, the rampant violation of personal space, the futility of trying to engage in anything even remotely resembling meaningful conversation...not his thing. Funny, though, how with Bree he’d never felt that sense of suffocation, that he could be with her and still feel alone. At peace.

  In the old days, anyway.

  “I’m almost afraid to ask what that was all about,” Cole said, and she laughed. After a fashion.

  “I’m almost afraid to tell you.”

  On a tight smile, Cole hitched up the knees of his khakis and lowered himself to the bench beside her. “But you’re going to,” he said, not looking at her. Unable to.

  She laughed again, the sound as gentle as the early summer breeze dancing around them. “I was being grilled.” When Cole’s head swung to hers, she shrugged. “He was curious, understandably enough. About what we used to be to each other.” She paused. “What we might be now. Especially since you apparently told him I saved your butt?”

  Grimacing, Cole looked away again. “And what did you say?”

  “That whatever we once were,” she said softly, “it’s in the past.”

  Her words should have been a relief. Which they were, in a way. Then, why the sting? The stupid, totally illogical disappointment?

  “He brought up what happened with his mom. Sort of. But it was obvious he was making sure I wasn’t a threat.”

  Cole frowned at her again, even as he thought, How could you ever be a threat? To anybody? “To them?”

  “More to...what the three of you have, I think. Or are just beginning to get hold of, maybe? In any case...” She flicked some tiny insect or other off her
lap, then curled her hands around the edge of the bench. “Even if you were, well, in the market? I’m definitely not. So it’s all moot.”

  Nodding, Cole looked away again. “Kelly told me.”

  “About?”

  “Why you’re here. Besides for the wedding, I mean.”

  “Ah.”

  He glanced at her profile. Or more to the point, the grimace tugging at her mouth. Too late, he remembered Kelly’s parting remark. Damn. “I wasn’t supposed to say anything, but—”

  “No, it’s okay,” she said on a sigh. “Not exactly a secret.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Bree squinted across the pool, then shrugged. “At some point I’m sure I’ll realize it was for the best, but right now...” She turned the grimace on him, her dark eyes dry but flat. Nothing like the girl who used to rant and rave when some loser or other had done her wrong, her emotions hurtling from her tiny frame like Zeus’s thunderbolts. “Sucks.”

  “Wanna talk about it?”

  She looked as startled as he felt, the laugh practically exploding from her throat. “After everything...” Then she shook her head, her expression a cross between amusement and pity. “Really?”

  “Old habits die hard?”

  “Yeah. Like banging your own head against the wall, over and over. Or something equally self-destructive.” When he frowned at her, she sighed. “I did eventually figure out a thing or six. Although, considering recent history, maybe not as much as I’d like to believe.” She waved one hand in front of her face, as though dismissing the thought. “But I wouldn’t blame you one bit for being cautious. For still hating me—”

  “I never hated you, Bree.”

  She blew a soft laugh through her nose. “Sure not how it felt at the time.”

  Cole stared hard at his hands for a moment, then released a breath of his own. “It was more that...I didn’t understand what had happened.”

  “Join the club,” she muttered, then sighed. “But still. I wouldn’t have called you crazy. For hating me. Especially after the way I took advantage of you. How I...hurt you.”

  He took a long moment. “What you don’t understand was that I was never a victim. Especially not of you.”

  “Even at—”

  “Especially at the end.” He felt his mouth go tight again. “Like I was going to turn down your coming on to me?”

  “Even though I was using you to soothe my own ego after Jerry What’s-His-Face dumped me.”

  And there it was, finally. In all its stinky, putrid glory.

  “Yeah. Even though. It was still my choice. Like everything else in my life. Who I hung out with, what I wore, what I did, all of it. That’s not to say I didn’t have some major growing pains as a kid, like everybody else. That I didn’t screw up. Or that life hasn’t thrown in a monkey wrench from time to time. But how I’ve handled those monkey wrenches has been entirely up to me. So even then, I knew what I was getting into, even if I didn’t know how to handle it.” He paused. “Or what to do when it all blew up in my face.”

  Finally, he looked at her again, his chest aching at the obvious contrition in her expression. “But I’m not seventeen anymore. Meaning, if I ask you if you want to talk, I am fully aware of what I’m asking, why I’m asking and who I’m asking it of. Has nothing to do with bad habits from the past. But it does have everything to do with who I am now.”

  Their gazes tangled for a long moment before she said, “Which still doesn’t explain why you give a damn about me.”

  He forced his attention across the pool, where Wes and Brooke were chatting with some of the other kids, all those Noble nieces and nephews that hadn’t existed before.

  “And believe me, the logical side of my brain is doing a serious What the hell? number on me right now. Because frankly, if we’d left things the way they were the other night—a onetime meet up, no biggie—that would have been the end of it. Then I see you in the church, and then my kid goes and talks to you, and...”

  Cole sagged back against the bench before tightly crossing his arms over his chest. “The most important thing I learned from your family,” he said quietly, “from you—was that human beings were supposed to be there for each other. To help each other out, even when it’s maybe not convenient. Or easy. That putting other people ahead of yourself makes you a stronger person. A better person. And I want my kids to have that example.”

  “Except...if you never said anything, they’d never know.”

  “I would, though. And that’s what counts.”

  “So this has nothing to do with me?”

  Cole hesitated, then said, “I still care, Bree. Because what we had for so long trumps what we ended up with.”

  “But...?”

  The smile in her voice made him sigh. “But gotta be honest—there’s no way I’ll ever again let anyone get to me the way you did. Yeah, I know,” he said to her frown, “I said I made choices. And I did. Doesn’t mean I’d make the same ones now. It’s like you said to Wes—nobody’s looking to get anything started again. For all the reasons we’ve already stated and probably a hundred more we haven’t thought of yet. But since fate has thrown us together, anyway, why not take advantage of it and finally make things right between us?” He looked back at his kids, smiling when Brooke glanced over at him, seeking reassurance. “Or at least lay them to rest.”

  * * *

  Staring at Cole’s rock-hard jaw, Sabrina wondered why, if closure was what Cole was after—understandable enough, all things considered—would he invite her to do the one thing that’d gotten them in so much trouble in the first place? Although...maybe letting her dump on him was exactly what he needed in order to find that closure. You know, reminding him of why things had ended badly to begin with?

  “You sure you want to hear this?”

  He gave her a side-eye. Another skill he’d picked up in the intervening years. “You know about Erin. Fair exchange.”

  All righty, then. So she told him about Robbie, how Chad’s son had never accepted her, no matter how hard she tried. How much she’d wanted him to like her.

  “And yes,” she said, failure bitter in her mouth, “I realize that given enough time, maybe he would have eventually come around. Not a risk I was willing to take. Although—”

  This she hadn’t told anybody. Not Kelly, not Pop. And certainly not her brother. As if, before, saying the words out loud would give them power. Weight. Now that it was moot, however...

  “Although to be honest,” she said quietly, “things hadn’t felt right between Chad and me for some time. Even when Robbie wasn’t around.”

  There was a long silence before he asked, “Got any idea why?”

  Slowly, she shook her head, the bitterness spreading to her chest. “Too many expectations, maybe? Wanting it to work too badly? Who knows?” Her eyes stung, but only for a moment. “When I finally admitted I wasn’t sure, Chad didn’t seem all that surprised.” Her mouth twisted. “Or upset.”

  “Damn. That’s rough.”

  “Although he was very nice about it. Told me to keep the ring, to stay in the condo as long as I needed—I’d given up my apartment when we got engaged, moved in with him. Said he’d commute from his folks’ place in Oyster Bay. But why would I do that? Keep a ring from a broken engagement? Stay at my ex’s, for heaven’s sake?”

  “So you came home.”

  “To regroup, yeah.” No point in telling him about the money issues. None of his concern. “I’m still in the city several times a week for appointments, but otherwise...” She shrugged. “So that’s the story. And yes, there are moments I want to rip out my spleen with a grapefruit spoon. But they pass—”

  “Come and get it!” Matt yelled from the community room’s doorway. With a short chuckle, Bree shook her head.

  “We really ooze
class, don’t we?” she said, getting to her feet and gently shaking out her filmy dress. “Guess we better hustle before they eat up all the food. Those old ladies are fierce, I tell you.”

  Cole stood, as well. “You ready for this?”

  Her forehead pinched again, she lifted her face to his. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “I don’t really have to spell it out, do I?”

  Sabrina couldn’t decide if it was comforting or scary as hell that, after nearly twenty years, he could still so easily, and so accurately, read her mind.

  She tried another smile. “A wedding definitely wouldn’t have been my activity of choice today. But that doesn’t mean I’m not thrilled for my brother and new sister-in-law. And I should probably let everyone see I’m okay. Thanks, though,” she said, walking backwards, suddenly needing space. Air. Her brain back. “For listening.”

  “Sure thing,” Cole said, his eyes pinned to hers, and Sabrina had to fight the urge not to turn and sprint across the grass like a demon was on her heels.

  * * *

  For the next hour or so she lost track of Cole as she gamely navigated the shoals of a Jersey wedding reception heavily populated with tipsy guests over seventy, her sole glass of white wine clutched in a death grip. She’d picked at her food—as usual, Kelly had knocked herself out—but her appetite had apparently flown the coop with her self-esteem. God willing, both would return sooner rather than later.

  The toasts had made her smile and cry and feel impossibly verklempt even as she beamed for her little brother, his own grin endearingly sappy as he lifted his glass to his bride. Tyler was—or had been, anyway—the perennial kid, the goofball of the family, dodging responsibility as though it were the plague. That he should fall for the centered, focused, older Laurel—who sniffled all the way through the toast—was living proof that God gets a kick out of messing with His creation. Of working things out according to His plan, not humans’.

  Something Sabrina was probably going to have to remind herself of a lot in the coming days.

  Normally she was all about parties and crowds and chaos—there was a reason she loved living in New York—but today she felt stifled. So, once dinner was over, she slipped away again, out onto a largish sunroom she hadn’t noticed before, overlooking another view of the grounds. The conglomeration of cushioned wicker and wrought iron made her smile, reminding her of the screened-in porch at her father’s. Between the furnishings, her dress and the pair of ceiling fans desultorily stirring the still air, Sabrina felt as though she’d been transported back to the twenties—