Daughters Of The Bride. Susan Mallery

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СКАЧАТЬ were a million things to do and she was still tired and maybe a little cranky, but none of that mattered. Josh’s voice was the best sound in the world, and knowing he was back made everything a little easier.

      She walked toward the living room and smiled when she saw her son.

      He was tall for his age. All gangling with too-long arms and legs. At eleven, he was on the verge of adolescence. His voice hadn’t changed yet and he’d yet to get a single chin hair, but she knew that was coming.

      He’d inherited his father’s dark hair and eyes, but her smile. He was a good kid. Smart, caring, generous. Easygoing. Now he dropped his duffel on the floor and hurried to greet her.

      “Dad bought me a new glove,” he said, holding it out in one hand while he reached for her with the other. He gave her a quick hug, then he stepped back and offered the glove.

      “It’s exactly what I wanted. Dad and I played catch yesterday, to break it in, then he hit balls and I caught them. Try it on.”

      She slid her hand into the glove and was surprised when it wasn’t too small for her.

      “Is this an adult size?” she asked.

      Josh grinned. His too-long hair fell into his eyes and he swept it back with a gesture that reminded her too much of his father. “Uh-huh. The guy at the store said I was in between, so we decided it made sense to get the bigger one.”

      She held up her right hand and he held up his left. They both spread their fingers. Rachel was stunned to discover her eleven-year-old son’s hand was nearly as big as hers.

      “When did that happen?” she asked.

      Josh laughed. “I’m going to be as tall as you soon, Mom. Then taller.”

      “I can’t decide if that’s good or bad,” she admitted.

      “Me, either.”

      The voice came from behind her. She took a second to brace herself against the inevitable reaction to seeing her ex-husband, then turned.

      “Hello, Greg.”

      “Rachel.”

      He looked good, but wasn’t that always the way? Every time she saw him, she looked for some sign that he was aging. Decaying would be better. But there was only the ever-present handsome face, perfect hair and sex-god-like body.

      “I thought I’d go get pizza for dinner,” he told her. “The usual for you?”

      She wanted to say no. That she wasn’t interested in eating with him. That pizza was the last thing she needed. That her constant exhaustion, and the feeling that no matter how hard she worked the best she could hope for was to not lose ground, had led to a horrible snacking habit that was taking its toll on her body. That or elves were shrinking her clothes while she slept.

      She felt fat and old and tired, while he got to be handsome and toned and in his prime. Of course, if she had every other day off, she would have time to do things like eat right and exercise. If she lived with someone who cooked the meals and cleaned the house and took care of every other chore, she wouldn’t be so rushed or exhausted. If she wasn’t the custodial parent, then...

      She drew in a breath. The mental litany wasn’t new, nor was her frustration. But there was much she couldn’t change and more she didn’t want to. Being Josh’s mother, having him most of the time, was important to her. The price of that was one she was willing to pay. The same with the house. She needed to be here. The rest of it would take care of itself.

      “Pizza would be fine,” she said, thinking the Crock-Pot dinner would keep for tomorrow.

      “You okay?”

      “Fine. Doing laundry, getting meals ready for the week. The usual.”

      “How can I help?”

      The unexpected question stumped her. Help? Greg didn’t help. He played. He surfed with his best friend, Jimmy. He hung out with the other firefighters. He tinkered with his truck.

      “I’m fine,” she told him. “Did Josh do his homework?”

      “Uh-huh, and I checked it. The essay needed some work, but he did great on the math.”

      “Good. Only another month until summer vacation. I’m going to have to look into the park camp for him.”

      An expense that would eat into her budget. Greg would pay for half of it, but she would have to cough up the rest.

      “I’ll get you my work schedule for the next two months this week,” Greg told her. “Once I have it, let’s sit down and plan out the summer as best we can. I can be responsible for him on my days off. If he’s in camp, I can take him and pick him up so it’s one less thing for you to deal with.”

      She told herself not to be surprised. While Greg hadn’t been that great a husband, he’d always cared about Josh. Although he wasn’t into the details, no one could doubt his love for his son.

      “It would be nice if he could spend more time with you,” she said cautiously.

      “Then it’s a plan.”

      She nodded.

      He flashed her a smile. “I’m going to get the pizza. You didn’t say if you wanted your usual.”

      “Yes, please.”

      “Then we’ll be right back.”

      Josh returned from taking his things to his room. “Can I have soda, Mom?” he asked.

      “No.”

      He laughed. “One day you’re going to say yes.”

      “One day you’re not going to ask.”

      “Never gonna happen.”

      “I did make cookies.”

      He gave her a quick hug. “You’re the best.”

      “Put that in writing.”

      “I could paint it on the garage door.”

      “That would be nice.”

      Greg held open the front door. “You say that now, but if he really did it, you’d be pissed.”

      “Don’t get any ideas,” she told him. Because helping Josh paint phrases on the garage door was exactly something Greg would do. He would think it was funny.

      Rachel set the table. She got a beer for Greg, a glass of wine for herself and juice for Josh. In the distance, the washer chugged away. She checked the Crock-Pot, then went to change the sheets on Josh’s bed.

      Her son’s room was big and bright, with a large window and an oversize closet. Sports equipment was strewn everywhere, along with clothes and sports magazines. About once a quarter she got on him to clean up the space, but most of the time she simply let him be or picked up herself.

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