The Good Mother. Shelley GallowayЧитать онлайн книгу.
all the while doing her best to keep Missy firmly upright.
And then it was all she could do to stand still because the man staring at her was one she would’ve known anywhere: August Meyer.
“Need a hand?”
She looked at his hand—big, capable, devoid of rings. And because he looked just a little bit cocky, she raised an eyebrow. “Not on my butt.”
“Sorry.” He didn’t look the least bit contrite. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t.” She juggled Missy a little closer.
His eyes softened. Green eyes that looked so familiar and warm. Comforting, like a hug. “How are you, Evie?”
Her mouth went dry as she realized she remembered far more about August than she’d ever admitted to herself. “Truthfully?”
He held up a pinkie, just like they used to do so many years ago. “Of course.”
“I…I don’t really know.”
Chapter Two
Thankfully, August didn’t have a moment to reply because her mother came flying out the front door.
“You’re here! When you called and said you were close, I thought you’d maybe get here in an hour, not in fifteen minutes.” Jan smiled at August before hugging Evie and scooping Missy out of her arms at the same time. Missy opened her big blue eyes and squirmed.
“I’m going to go take our baby on inside,” Jan said, pressing kisses to Missy’s chubby cheeks. “August, you’ll help Evie unload, right?”
“It’s why I’m here.”
Evie blinked. His words were bland, his expression open and friendly. Their past was just that…in the past. So why did she feel as if his words held special meaning just for her?
As the screen door slammed shut again, leaving the two of them alone with just the sound of a couple of bullfrogs, August met her gaze. “It’s good to see you.”
“You, too. It’s been a long time.”
“Almost ten years.”
“Yes.”
He tilted his head toward the excited chatter filtering out from the cottage. “Your girls are pretty.”
“Thanks. They’re a handful.”
“I guess all kids are.”
She’d run out of words. “Maybe.”
Still, he scanned her face, his green eyes looking like he was trying to memorize every feature. “I heard you got divorced.”
“I did. About a year and a half ago. I heard you just had a breakup, too.”
“Me and Erin weren’t ever going to amount to much. It just took us a while to come to terms with it.”
“It still had to be hard.”
August shrugged. “If it was, it was because things didn’t happen like I’d hoped. When my dad died and left me the business, Erin and I kind of fell by the wayside.”
“I heard about your dad. I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “Thanks.” After a moment, he gestured toward the van. “So, what can I help you with, Evie?”
There she went again, imagining a loaded question.
What didn’t she need help with? Everything. Her life. Her job. Her complete sense of failure as a wife…running off a husband who wasn’t even running to something, just away from their marriage.
But that wasn’t what August had meant, and those problems weren’t ones she was willing to share with him.
Instead, she pointed to the open side door. With the girls out of it, Evie thought the minivan looked a whole lot like Santa’s sleigh, it was so completely packed full of toys and coolers and suitcases and baskets. “Take hold of anything you want,” she said, quickly grabbing the nearest duffel and yanking it over the bucket seats.
August popped open the hatchback and pulled out two suitcases. “You never could travel light, Evie,” he said with a chuckle. “Remember how you’d pack for the beach?”
She did. Her beach bag would be filled with lotions and lipstick and hair bows. Anything to make August pay attention to her.
As she followed him into the house, Evie couldn’t help but notice that he still had a swimmer’s body. Those shoulders were still incredibly broad, his hips lean in the worn pair of camou-colored cargo shorts. “I guess some things never change,” she murmured.
The cottage was just like she remembered, except for smelling of fresh paint. Jenna was already sitting on a red-and-yellow area rug, playing with a pile of Legos her parents had dug out and watching TV. A plate of animal cookies and a glass of milk sat on a table to her right.
Evie was so relieved someone else was taking care of all the details that she didn’t even care that Jenna was most likely getting too full for dinner.
August had already gone downstairs to the lower level, and Evie was about to follow when her dad stopped her and put the duffel next to the stairs. “Come have a beer, sunshine.”
“The van—”
“August will get another load, and I’ll help him in a minute. You need a break.” Circling an arm around her shoulders, Mike led her into the bright kitchen.
After her dad thrust a cold bottle of Coors into her hand, he raised an imaginary bottle in a toast. “Cheers, dear. You made it.”
“Cheers.” Tears pricked at her eyes. She knew exactly what he meant. Today had certainly been a long time coming. Ever since her divorce, she’d just been subsisting, doing her best to get through each day. Weekends consisted of days alone with both girls, or days alone without them. Through it all, she still hadn’t yet mastered managing her time. Agreeing to leave the state with the girls for a whole month had taken more than a leap of faith. It had been a leap without a safety net.
But John had been asked to go to Japan on business, and even he had thought it was a good time for her to get away.
As they heard the screen door screech open and slam again, duty called. “I better go help—”
Her dad held up a hand. “August, you okay?”
“I’m fine,” August called back, tromping back downstairs.
Her dad grinned. “See?”
Evie leaned against the granite-topped center island. “I see. I see that you’re up to something.”
“Just no good.” Her dad winked, the old joke they’d shared illuminating the room as brightly as the new fluorescent track lights above them.
“Momma? Momma, Missy needs to be changed, and she’s hungry, too.”
Ah, Jenna. The voice of reason. “I’ll be right there.”
“I’m taking care of it,” her mother called out. “You stay in the kitchen. Mike? Come help August.”
“You sit here and relax for a spell, sunshine.”
Evie did, hopping up on the bar stool next to the island. She wasn’t a huge drinker, but beer never tasted so good as it did at the beach. Must be something with the salty air, she supposed.
In the living room, life went on, the screen door opening and shutting, Missy fussing as her mother attempted to get that diaper changed, Jenna talking a mile a minute. The noises were comforting, familiar. Almost strange. It had been a long time since she’d sat while everyone else did the work.
After a few more minutes, August came in the kitchen with her cooler and propped it next to the stainless-steel sink.