My Way Back to You. Pamela Hearon

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       CHAPTER TWELVE

       CHAPTER THIRTEEN

       CHAPTER FOURTEEN

       CHAPTER FIFTEEN

       CHAPTER SIXTEEN

       CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

       CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

       CHAPTER NINETEEN

       CHAPTER TWENTY

       CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

       CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

       CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

       CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

       CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

       CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

       CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

       Extract

       Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

      NINETEEN DOLLARS...AND a divorce.

      That was what the green jersey knit palazzo pants outfit ended up costing Maggie Russell in the long run, even though it had been on sale.

      Of course, the purchase was frivolous. But, at the time, it represented the chance to step out of motherhood for a night and feel sexy again, an opportunity to celebrate turning twenty-one and finally reaching legal age despite the fact she was already married and the mother of a one-year-old.

      More importantly, it was the perfect way to shove in Jeff’s face that he couldn’t control every single teeny tiny aspect of her life—and every penny she spent.

      He couldn’t control her.

      At least, that had been the plan.

      Instead, they’d gotten into a hellacious argument because her purchase overdrew their account. Jeff had yelled about her irresponsibility. She’d cried about his insensitivity. He’d stormed out, and she’d taken little Russ and run home to Mama and Daddy—all the way next door.

      That fight had been the one that put her and Jeff over their limit—not that they’d ever specified a number. In fact, it was actually the same argument rehashed so many times they had the lines perfected and didn’t need to go through the whole thing again. Everything had been said countless times before. And nothing said was heard. Nothing said was listened to. Not even fabulous makeup sex could assuage the deep-seated anger, frustration and hurt of not being understood. Not this time.

      Two months later they filed for divorce. Six months after that, the decree was finalized—three weeks after Russ turned two.

      Sometimes, during flights of fancy, usually during the summers when Russ left her in Taylor’s Grove, Kentucky, to visit his dad in California, she’d allow herself to wonder what would’ve happened if she’d never spent that nineteen dollars? What if she hadn’t accidentally gotten pregnant at nineteen? What if...?

      “Mom, you need to get over. You’re about to miss the exit.” Russ’s impatient tone jerked her back to the present and across two lanes of traffic. She may have taught their son to drive, but the backseat stuff was all Jeff, the control freak.

      “Jeez, where were you, anyway?” A grin accompanied Russ’s eye roll, the combination perfected by the time he’d turned eleven.

      “Just thinking about when you were little.” She reached out and ruffled the top of his wavy black hair, a mournful sigh escaping her lips. “Here you are, going off to college, but in my mind’s eye you’re still eight instead of eighteen.”

      A brief look of panic shot from his black-as-coffee eyes. “You’re not gonna cry again, are you?”

      “Only about this traffic.” She flipped on the blinker and nosed the car into the bumper-to-bumper line of vehicles inching down the ramp to Chicago’s O’Hare International.

      Russ’s panicked look may have been an overreaction but not totally ungrounded. His senior year of high school had been a rough one for Maggie. As each of his activities came to an end, she bawled her way through the ordeal of Senior Nights, and when his name was called at graduation she blubbered aloud.

      Her baby. Seven hours away from home. All by himself in this city of three million people. Her heart squeezed, and she felt the familiar pang she’d first noticed when she read the positive pregnancy test nineteen years ago and had reiterated itself on a daily basis ever since. Her dad’s sage words followed on its heels. The nine months before aren’t the problem, he’d say. It’s the ninety-nine years after that kill you.

      No doubt about it, saying goodbye once parent orientation ended two days from now might just do her in.

      The only good part about that ominous event was that it made today’s excursion to pick up her ex-husband, whom she hadn’t seen in person since Russ’s kindergarten graduation, pale in comparison.

      Russ’s phone beeped, and he glanced at the text. “Dad says he’s curbside at Terminal 1.”

      “Tell him traffic’s awful, and we’ll be there as soon as we can.”

      “You gotta be more aggressive, Mom.” Russ’s thumbs flew on the tiny keyboard as he talked. “Quit letting people in ahead of you. We could be there by now.”

      Quite a way up the road, Maggie spotted the Terminal 1 sign and started easing her way over to the far right-hand lane. “Two months of driving in San Diego each summer makes you the expert in city traffic, huh?”

      “Well...yeah, actually.” Russ shrugged and shot her a mischievous grin. “Or maybe I’m just more anxious to see Dad than you are.”

      “I’m sure you are, but I’m still getting there as quickly and safely as I can.”

      While it was true she wasn’t exactly looking forward to the reunion, she wasn’t horrified by the idea, either. Picking Jeff up from the airport on their way СКАЧАТЬ