Los Lobos didn’t have a Little League team, but there was a county league. Josh insisted they sign him up the first hour they could, something she was happy to do. He was eleven—she figured she had all of two, maybe three years before he became a raging male hormone and then all bets were off.
“Dad said he would buy it for me but I had to check with you first.”
At least she was driving and had an excuse not to look at Josh. Because she couldn’t—not without him seeing the rage in her eyes. Damn Greg, she thought bitterly. Of course he could afford to buy his son a new glove. Greg had only himself to worry about.
Her ex-husband made a good living as a Los Lobos county firefighter. He also had excellent medical benefits—something she’d lost after the divorce. Even more annoying, his schedule was a ridiculous twenty-four hours on, twenty-four hours off for six days, followed by four days off. Which gave him plenty of time to play, and play he did. Add in the fact that he’d moved back home with his folks, so he basically had no living expenses, and the man was swimming in both cash and time.
Don’t think about it, she instructed herself. Dwelling on how good Greg had it only made her angrier. She had to remember that the man paid his child support on time. That was something. But as for the rest of it—she couldn’t help resenting how easy he had it.
Yes, she did well at the salon. She was able to support herself and her son. The child support covered the mortgage, and she paid for everything else. But it wasn’t as if there was a bunch of extra cash at the end of the month. She was doing her best to build up an emergency fund and keep current on household repairs. There wasn’t anything left over for things like baseball gloves.
When she was sure she could speak in a happy, excited tone, she said, “Go for it, Josh. You need a new glove. It’s great that your dad can afford to get it. Do you already know what you want, or do you need to do some research?”
“I know exactly what I need.” And he was off, describing the glove down to the kind of stitching.
Oh, to be that young and innocent, she thought with regret. To trust that everything was going to turn out the way it was supposed to. To believe in happily-ever-after.
She’d been that way, once. She’d had hopes and dreams—mostly of finding her handsome prince. And when she’d laid eyes on Greg, she’d known, just known, he was the one. Back then everyone had believed he was the one. Greg had been the guy every girl wanted.
And she’d been the one to get him—right up until he’d cheated on her.
She turned the corner, then pulled into Lena’s driveway. Josh was out of the car before she’d come to a full stop.
“Bye, Mom. See you later.”
He ran into the house without bothering to knock. She was still shaking her head when her friend Lena appeared on the porch. Lena turned back to kiss her husband, then hurried to the car. She got inside and waved the bag she held.
“Great cheese and dark chocolate. Am I good to you or what?”
They hugged.
“You’re the best,” Rachel told her. “Thanks for coming over tonight. I could use some girl time.”
“Me, too. Tell me the wine is red.”
“It’s red and there are two bottles.”
“Perfect.”
She and Lena had been friends since elementary school. They were physical opposites—Lena was petite and curvy, with brown hair and dark eyes. Rachel was taller and blonde.
They’d played together, dreamed together, and when they’d grown up, they’d been each other’s maids of honor. They’d married young and then had sons within a few months of each other. But things were different now. Lena and Toby were still happily together.
“What?” her friend asked. “You’re looking fierce.”
“Nothing. I’m fine. Just the usual crap.”
“Greg?”
Rachel sighed. “Yes. Josh needs a new glove and his dad is going to buy it for him.”
Her friend didn’t say anything.
Rachel turned onto her street. “I know what you’re thinking. I should be grateful he’s an involved father. That the extra money he has could be spent on women and drinking, but he spends it on his kid.”
“You’re doing all the talking.”
Rachel pulled into her driveway. “I just wish...”
“That a really big rock would fall on him?”
She smiled. “Maybe not that, but something close.”
Because it was Greg’s fault their marriage had failed. He’d chosen to have a one-night stand with a tourist. She’d known the second she’d seen him—had guessed what he’d done. He hadn’t tried to deny it, and that had been that. Her marriage had ended.