but he spotted me just the same. Ryan possessed a sixth sense when it came to me, but the realization he still felt my presence didn’t do much to console me as I looked at his companion’s swollen belly.
He met my gaze then whispered something in the other woman’s ear. She glanced in my direction and smiled. A tight, uncomfortable smile. A smile that said she knew exactly what she’d done to my marriage. Hell, to my life.
She turned away, but as Ryan made his way toward me, I studied her, not believing what I saw.
I’d pictured young and gorgeous. I’d pictured radiant skin and perky breasts. I’d never pictured someone my age with two teenagers in tow. I glanced again at her baby bump and swallowed.
I hadn’t been prepared for being replaced by someone just like me--only fertile.
“We met in the parking lot when I gave Ashley a ride to one of her dances.”
Ryan’s voice sounded close beside me. When his fingers closed around my elbow, I jerked my arm free and took several steps away from him.
I nodded as if his explanation made perfect sense. “Does Ashley know her?” Even more importantly, “Do Diane and David know her?”
Ryan shook his head. “They’ll meet her for the first time tonight. I promise.”
Lucky, lucky me. Just in time to be a happy witness to the couple’s first public appearance.
“Your promises don’t go too far with me, Ryan.”
He nodded, letting his focus drift to his shoes. Then a crease formed between his dark brows and he shifted his attention back to my face.
Maybe it was the shock of seeing Ryan, or the shock of seeing the other woman, but sudden tears swam in my vision. Much to my dismay, a traitorous drop slid down my cheek.
Ryan reached for my face, and I captured his hand in mine. “Don’t.”
I thought he might seize the moment to tell me he was sorry for everything that had happened, but he didn’t.
“I’d better get back.” He turned to walk away, but hesitated, pivoting to face me once more. “I’m taking flying lessons.”
“Flying lessons?” He could have knocked me over with a feather.
Pride danced in his eyes. “I always wanted to fly.”
I nodded. “But I never thought you’d do it.”
He gave a quick shrug. “Why not?”
Why not? I returned his shrug. “Why not?”
“How about you?” He tipped his chin. “Any new tricks?”
I thought about the belly-dancing DVD still safely sealed in its cellophane, the Maryland crab cakes frozen before I’d tasted a single one, and Number Thirty-Six’s offer of lessons for Poindexter. An offer I’d soundly ignored.
“A few.” I nodded, lying through my teeth.
“Good.” Ryan’s smile spread wide across his face, lighting up his features. “You deserve to be happy.”
“We all do.” I answered flatly, unable to wrench my stare from the uninhibited joy plastered across his face.
Maybe he’d needed someone to light the dark places inside him I couldn’t reach. After all, how can you illuminate another when your own shadows run so deep?
“She listens to my dreams, Bernie.” Ryan spoke the words softly, as if he were afraid to hurt me. Before I could respond, he turned and walked away.
I studied his back. Then I measured what he’d said.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d listened to his dreams.
I stood frozen to the spot as he interlaced his fingers with that of his new love and steered her toward the theatre doors.
Apparently I hadn’t been listening for a very long time.
o0o
I stopped off at the all-night convenience store on my way home from the high school. I’d like to say I bought nothing but healthy foods--skim milk, yogurt, fresh fruit. But that would be a total lie.
In reality, I walked out of that store carrying every sweet and salty snack my increasingly chubby arms could manage.
Somewhere around two o’clock in the morning I began to feel queasy--really and truly queasy.
I’d been binging on caramel-filled chocolates and watching a Hart to Hart marathon. This seemed like a perfectly reasonable course of action until the chocolate tangled with the nacho chips I’d layered into my stomach during the previous hour.
The gangs in West Side Story had nothing on the junk food battling it out inside my gut.
I burped, more than a little unladylike. Poindexter hoisted his head from the sofa to glare at me before he tucked his nose behind a pillow.
I blew out a deep sigh and sank back against the cushions, turning my focus from my dog to the pile of empty wrappers strewn