Every Kiss(52)

I lay my hand on her forearm and look into her red, swollen eyes. “I’m in the picture, so I’m part owner, and I want you to have it. Maybe someday, down the road, you’ll get to see more than just an image on a screen.”

“I won’t be coming around again,” she says, sniffling. “It makes him uncomfortable, and I should’ve known he wouldn’t want anything to do with me. But I would love to have that picture, so I can always remember that he’s doing well and he’s happy.” She reaches into the car to get a card from her purse. “This is my cell number and email address, but don’t give it to Wesley. If you would, just save it in case the day comes that he might want to see me.”

“I’ll do that. And I’ll send you the picture.”

“Thank you so much, dear.” She nods and turns back to her car.

“Wait.” I step toward her as she turns around. “It’s really none of my business, and you don’t have to answer, but . . . why? After twenty-six years, why reach out to him now?”

She presses her lips into a grim line. “If I can come up with a good answer to that, I’ll let you know.”

As I watch her pull out of the drive, I feel a deep chill sweep over my skin. I have enough of my own crap to deal with, but something about that woman makes me want to help her, to help mend that broken relationship that wasn’t ever whole to begin with. Yeah, well, that would also require Wes to put away his stubborn pride for five damn minutes, and I don’t see that happening. Somehow, I think she already knows that.

“Hey, Mak,” I say into my phone, walking back into the house. “Did I wake you?”

“Hmmm?”

“Nevermind. Go back to sleep. I’ll call you later.”

“Don’t you dare hang up the phone! Just give me a second to find my brain.” Blankets rustle in the background and footsteps slap onto the floor repeatedly. We have carpet in our bedrooms, so I’m guessing she didn’t sleep at home last night. “Okay, I’m up and slightly coherent, so . . . give me all the details. How was it?”

I groan. “Can we not go there right now? I promise to fill you in on everything later, but I need a favor. Where are you?”

“Shane’s parents’ guest house. Since you and Wes bailed on us last night, we just rode back with them. Shane’s car is here anyway. Why?”

“I guess he’s taking you home then, right?” Oh, I dread even asking. “Can you pick me up from Wes’ on the way?”

She’s silent for half a beat. “Why? Uh, and why is Wes’ vehicle here?”

Time to play the “we’re adults and know exactly what we’re doing” card. “Oh, he has some stuff to take care of today and mentioned he had to swing by there, too. I just thought I’d catch a ride with you to save him some time. Plus, I’d really like to get home and in my own clothes.”

“Well, okay. Ooh, I have an idea. Hang on.” Voices are muffled by what sounds like her hand on the phone. “Be ready. We’re leaving right now to pick you up.”

“Okay.” I barely manage to get the word out before the line goes dead. I know her all too well. She’s way too excited, so I know she has something up her sleeve.

While I wait, I email the picture to Wes’ mother, as promised, and I straighten the house up a little. As much as I want to leave it in a mess, I just don’t have it in me. And finally, I toss his t-shirt and boxers into the hamper in the utility room, and slip back into my dress. I don’t want to worry about returning them later, simply because we won’t have a “later.”

“Here. Put these on real quick. Shane’s waiting in the car.” Makenna shoves a pile of clothes at me as soon as I open the door. “Lucky for you, I packed a few extra sets of clothes to bring with me to Shane’s parents’ house.”

“You rock, Mak,” I call out on my way to the bathroom to change. Makenna and I have always shared shirts, but since she’s about four inches taller, her jeans are way too long. Her flip-flops are a bit too big, as well. But it’s way better than being stuck in that dress and heels any longer.

“It’s kinda weird seeing you here,” Makenna admits when I walk back out. She jerks her head toward the hallway leading to the bedroom. “Especially knowing what was going on back there last night.”

“How do you know we were in the bedroom?”

She jumps up from her seat on the couch and stares at it in horror. “Oh, please . . . not where I was just sitting.”

I laugh out loud and shake my head. “You’re safe.”