“That’s you. This is what I wanted, what I chose.”
He didn’t answer, and her fingers fiddled with the corner of a woven cream-colored placemat. It may have been what she’d chosen, but she couldn’t admit to him that, truthfully, she’d never met anyone who had measured up to the standard he had set. He’d been her ideal—dark and handsome, kind, ambitious, an attentive lover. Yet his strength, his utter conviction, had been a few of the reasons she’d had to leave.
The coffee gurgled and spat as it brewed into the carafe. Sara could be heard giggling with Bubbles in the porch.
Jason filled a mug with the coffee and placed it, black, in front of her, then with a small smile put a sugar bowl and carton of coffee cream beside her right hand. “You always did put your career ahead of relationships.”
She added sugar and cream, stirred, put down the spoon and stared up at him. “That’s unfair. You wanted to chase your dream and expected me to fit in your plans where you wanted. What I wanted didn’t matter. You refused to hear me, to see that my way could have worked, too.”
“I heard you loud and clear. You made a choice and it wasn’t me.” He took another cup out of the cupboard for himself, his body language relaxed but tension flickered in his tone.
She pushed away the coffee and her voice rose. “You’re still as bullheaded as ever. You still don’t get it. It didn’t have to be a choice. We both could have had what we wanted.”
“A wife going off to a school half a country away isn’t my idea of a marriage.” He slammed his mug down on the counter, his voice agitated.
“And demanding to have everything your own way isn’t any kind of marriage or partnership. I believe that’s called a dictatorship!”
Sara showed up at the door to the kitchen, her little mouth pursed. “Stop fighting.”
Jason was immediately contrite and went over to kneel in front of her. “Sorry, muffin. Your Aunt Molly and I were just talking. Hang on a sec.”
He reached into a cupboard and took out a small red foil bag. “Here. I’m going to give you these for Bubbles.” He took out three dog treats that looked like bacon and ripped them in half so there were six pieces. “We’re not fighting, okay?”
Molly hid behind her coffee cup, taking several short sips and watching Jason deal with Sara. He was so much better with her than she was, and that made her angry, too. She somehow always felt like she was in the wrong. Like she always measured up short. It infuriated her that he was the only person who could make her feel that way.
Sara nodded, then disappeared back around the corner.
“What I do with my life now is none of your business,” Molly hissed, keeping her voice low.
“You’re absolutely right. I lost that right the day you walked out on us.”
Molly placed her forehead on her right hand in exasperation. That day, he’d never understood that he shared the blame, and obviously he still thought he was completely innocent. “You still think it was all my fault. You think you’re completely blameless. Sir Jason the Perfect.”
“I asked you to marry me. You were the one who said no.”
“Even you know it’s not that simple. You presented me with an itinerary of our lives for the next ten years, then wondered why I didn’t go for it.”
His eyes threw daggers at her. “I offered you everything. You tossed it in my face! Now you come back to save the day. Good old Molly. If there’s a job to be done, she’s gonna do it, right? And boy, is she ever going to make herself look good. And when it’s over, you’re gonna leave. Because that’s the other thing you do really well.”
Molly pushed back her chair and stood, her hands on her hips and her lips thin. “You couldn’t be more wrong. You’re jealous. You’re jealous because I came home to look after Sara and Kim, and that’s your job, right? Dudley Do-Right is outdone by the woman who did him wrong. Not everything in life is a competition.”
“If that isn’t pot calling kettle.”
“I call it as I see it, if you remember,” she retorted.
“Be careful,” he ground out between clenched teeth as they squared off.
She sniffed. “You tried to run my life once before. I didn’t let you then, and I won’t let you now. Get over yourself.”
“Right back at ya.”
She stared for a long moment, breathing heavily from anger and frustration, their argument fir
ing her blood almost as much as his kiss had. She was appalled with herself for thinking how she’d love to close the distance between them and kiss him senseless. Rip off his clothes. She wondered if the sex would still be as spectacular…
Whoa. Too far. Time for a strategic retreat.
Spinning, she stormed to the porch. “Sara, say goodbye to Bubbles, honey. It’s time to go.”