For the Girls' Sake - By Janice Kay Johnson Page 0,74

if he really wanted to know.

"No." Why hadn’t she been? "We were such good friends. Mom didn’t seem lonely, so how could I be?" Lynn had never told this to anyone, but now she admitted, "I was terribly shocked when Mom got married. It made me wonder—oh, this sounds terrible..."

Adam finished for her, "You wondered if she’d ever really been as happy as you thought she was."

"Yes." Lynn made a face. "I suppose everyone grows up and looks at their parents and one day realizes maybe they weren’t quite who you thought they were. If that isn’t too muddled a sentence."

“Clear as Perrier," Adam assured her with a grin. "Except ‘everyone’ doesn’t have to reevaluate a parent, because some of us knew ours. Mine are just who I concluded they were."

"Are they?"

He went still. "What’s that mean?"

"Just that..." She hesitated. "I had the impression your mother was probing to find out whether I’d be a suitably loving wife for you. She seemed concerned."

"Concerned," he repeated flatly.

"Some people aren’t very demonstrative."

He gave a short, hard laugh. "My mother is not demonstrative."

"You think she doesn’t love you?" But he was so quick to hug Rose, to smooth away a tear or tickle her into laughter. He couldn’t possibly have learned that from books!

"I think she feels an obligation."

"Well, I think you’re wrong," Lynn said stoutly. "She was definitely suspicious of me." She thought for a moment. "I guess that’s natural since she knows why we got married."

"Then she doesn’t have any reason to worry about you breaking my heart, does she?"

"No." She spoke quietly, not letting him see that he had hurt her. "You’re right. Maybe I misunderstood."

Say, You could break my heart, she begged him without words, her gaze lowered to the pale amber of her cinnamon apple tea. Say...

Gentler, his voice broke her pitiful thoughts. "You’re not unhappy, are you?"

“Me?" Lynn made herself look up with wide eyes, as if astonished at the question. "Why would I be unhappy?" Because I love you, and you don’t love me, she answered her own question.

"Some women are romantics." His tone was odd.

She would have sworn she wasn’t one of them. She had never intended to remarry; she was incapable of the depth of passion and commitment a man would want in a wife.

She was an idiot, Lynn thought, and fully deserved the fix she’d gotten herself into.

"Not me," she claimed, and took a calm sip of her tea.

She felt his gaze resting on her and would have given almost anything to know what he was thinking. But for some peculiar reason her emotions seemed close to the surface. If she had met his eyes just then, she might not have been able to keep her secrets.

And she must. She must! She was so lucky, had so much, she wouldn’t be foolish enough to let herself ache for the little that Adam couldn’t give her.

"Did I tell you what Rose said today?" she asked with a smile so bright it felt brittle.

Without moving a muscle, Adam relaxed. Lynn sensed it with every fiber of her being. He had feared she would ask him something he couldn’t answer, or didn’t want to answer. Like, Can I break your heart? Or even, Are you happy?

Instead she was deliberately reminding him of what they had in common: their children.

He laughed in the right places at her story, told one of his own, then commented on the book he was reading. The evening was ordinary, pleasant; outwardly both were comfortable.

After turning off the lights and going upstairs to bed, Lynn sighed and turned away from Adam as if already half-asleep.

They could be content, even happy, without both being deeply, passionately in love. And so she reminded herself again: enjoy what you have, be grateful for Shelly and Rose’s sake, and don’t grieve for what you can’t have.

Hot tears, falling silently, wet her pillowcase.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

"COFFEE, SIR?" The waiter accepted Adam’s nod and refilled his cup. "Our cheesecake is excellent."

Adam skipped the dessert; Lynn decided to indulge. The three partners in Adam’s firm were having dinner with their wives at a Portland restaurant. This was throwing Lynn in with a vengeance. She had never met these friends and colleagues, and both they and their wives had known Jennifer.

Now, amid general chatter as the others debated dessert, she touched Adam’s thigh and murmured, "I’m going to the restroom. Will you ask if they have herbal tea? I forgot."

"Anything but peppermint." He knew her tastes.

When she rose, Jillian, another of the

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