This Time For Keeps. Jenna Mills

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      Until Lance stood. “Rusty,” his former poker buddy said, crossing to him with a hand outstretched. There was a quiet understanding in his voice—and a steely warning in his eyes. “Didn’t know you were back in town, man.”

      Trey was there a step later, and as Russell extended his hand, the man he’d once run with almost every morning before the sun rose wrapped him in a quick hug. The gesture caught him by surprise…but nowhere near as much as the realization that his friend had lost a lot of weight.

      Trey released him abruptly, as if just realizing what he’d done. “When did you get back?”

      “This morning,” Russell said. “Need to clean out—”

      “No, you don’t.” That was Julia. He’d wondered how long it would take the barracuda to march over. “There’s nothing you need to do here,” she said, angling her chin in that fierce way of hers.

      Her husband looked as if he, too, wanted the floor to swallow him. “Julia—”

      “No,” Meg’s cousin said before Lance could get out another word. She lifted her hand in a sharp gesture. “He doesn’t get to do this.” She kept her eyes trained on her prey, namely Russell. “You can’t just show up here like…you still belong.”

      He blinked. Julia had always been a bull-by-the-horns kind of gal, but her vehemence seemed a little over-the-top. “Ainsley was my sister—”

      “And Meg was your wife.” She practically spat the word at him. “That didn’t seem to make any difference, did it? You still walked away. You don’t get to—”

      “Jules.” Lori materialized by her friend’s side with an icy glare as she laid a hand to Julia’s forearm. “Don’t.”

      Something dark and uncomfortable slipped through Russell. He’d known coming back would not be easy, but the palpable tension among the foursome drove home just how long he’d been gone—and how much he didn’t know. Trey was rail thin. Lori looked sad, drawn. Lance looked fed up. And Julia…Julia looked like she wanted to bust some balls.

      Namely, his.

      “I don’t get to do what?” he asked.

      Lori looked down. Julia’s mouth pursed into a thin line. But it was Trey who spoke. “Come on, that was a long time ago,” he said to his wife and her friend. “It wasn’t a picnic for anyone. When a marriage ends…” He lifted a hand to rub at his chest, but left the rest of his sentence unspoken.

      But Russell knew. When a marriage ended, it was like a death. But the kicker was, you both still lived. You lived, while every other aspect of your life—where you lived, what you did, who you did it with, your freaking identity—went away.

      Once those in Meg’s inner circle had considered Russell a friend, and he them. They’d worked together, laughed together, cried together. Now at best he was a stranger. At worst…an enemy.

      Not surprisingly, it was Lori who broke the awkward silence. “Have you seen her?”

      A photojournalist, Russell was a man who dealt in images. Some he captured with film. Others imprinted themselves on him, lingering long, long after time had moved on. When he closed his eyes, it was a veritable slide show of his life.

      Since returning to Pecan Creek, that slide show was of Meg.

      “This afternoon,” he said, feeling his chest tighten all over again. In a perfect world, he could have slipped in and out of town without seeing her. Christ, he could have avoided coming back altogether.

      But it wasn’t a perfect world, and he could not do what had to be done without involving her.

      “At the flower field,” he murmured as an afterthought. “She had the baby….”

      Julia and Lori exchanged a quick glance. Two minutes later they’d retrieved their purses and were gone, leaving the men standing in an awkward vortex of country music and silence.

      STARS TWINKLED throughout the shadowy nursery, blue shimmers of light courtesy of the funky projector in the center of the room. Beatles music turned lullabies drifted from the CD player on the dresser. It was the perfect atmosphere for sleeping, but Charlotte, despite being bathed, lotioned and fed, had absolutely no interest in sleeping.

      Still Meg rocked, cradling the chubby baby in her arms as she watched the numbers on the clock slip deeper into the evening.

      “What a good day you had,” she cooed, even though Charlotte was focused on the pile of blocks she’d been playing with earlier.

      Meg wasn’t about to allow her back down on the floor. This was attempt number three at sleep. There would not be a fourth.

      “Posing so pretty for Uncle Ray,” she went on in the same monotone. The second time had been the charm. Rejuvenated from her power nap, Charlotte had sat happily in the big patch of bluebonnets, cheerfully destroying one flower at a time.

      Ray said the pictures would be great.

      Meg had to take his word for it, because in truth, she had no idea. She’d tried to watch. She’d tried to pay attention. But the image of Russell limping toward her had stayed with her long after he himself had vanished.

      Even now, hours later, the reality of it all kept winding through her, tighter with each minute that passed. This is what it had been like before, back when they’d come home from work each day and pretended they had a marriage. When they’d shared a silent dinner before each retreating to their own space. When they’d lain in bed with their backs to each other, faking sleep.

      And so much more.

      With the memory, all those old sensations knotted inside her once again, bringing with them a renewed frustration. She and Charlotte were just settling into a routine. The paper was in trouble. Circulation was down, advertising almost cut in half. With more and more folks consuming their news from online sources, interest in dailies and weeklies was at an all-time low. If she didn’t come up with a turnaround soon, the paper would go under.

      She did not have time for Russell Montgomery to stroll back into town.

      On a deep inhalation, she glanced down and found Charlotte’s eyes heavy, slowly blinking. Exhaling, she stopped rocking and waited.

      The baby’s eyes drifted closed.

      Still Meg sat in the rocking chair, looking down at Charlotte’s sweet little face. Sometimes getting her to sleep was a bear, but those first few moments of slumber were worth the effort. The innocence of it all screamed through Meg, filling her with a soft determination that would have sent her to her knees had she not been sitting.

      Charlotte. Poor sweet Charlotte. Ainsley had loved her so very, very much.

      Meg closed her eyes against the memory, but images awaited in the darkness, as well. Ainsley on the hospital bed, weak, fading. Reaching for her baby one last time.

      Inside, something started to shake. Fighting it, Meg reached for all those slip-sliding pieces and locked them away, stood and eased the baby into her crib. In the hall, she crossed to her office, but found herself СКАЧАТЬ