“I was in college. I had more woman than was right. And no, I hadn’t even begun to think about whether or not I wanted children someday. Which turns out to be a good thing since it’s not in my cards.”
He didn’t sound sorry. Or regretful.
He didn’t sound as if he would have loved to have children if things had been different.
And she’d wanted at least a couple more.
When she was married.
Which she wasn’t going to be again. Ever. She wasn’t giving up what control she had over her life.
There were many things Lynn didn’t understand, but one thing was absolutely completely clear to her. Never again was she going to put her life, her happiness, in the hands of another person.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
GRANT MADE SURE Darin was never alone on Monday, even going so far as to accompany him to his morning therapy session, saying he wanted to see Darin’s progress and get updates from Angelica on how much they could push things.
He was just as interested in what they weren’t going to push. Namely, Maddie and Darin together.
He’d have stayed for the afternoon session, too, except that as she was leaving the morning session, Maddie had told Darin she couldn’t see him at lunch or following his afternoon session because Lynn was taking her to the mall.
She wouldn’t have been seeing him at lunch, anyway, Grant could have told her. He’d brought enough sandwiches for Darin to eat with him. And if he hadn’t, he’d have taken his brother out for a hamburger. And got him back in time to put in his hour and a half in the kitchen afterward.
He took Darin straight home after work. Told his brother to shower, reminding Darin to cover his stitches, and put on some nice pants and a casual shirt. As soon as he heard the water go on in Darin’s bathroom, he had his own shower, pulled on some black jeans and an off-white button-down shirt, rolled up the sleeves, slid into some soft-sided loafers, ran his fingers through his hair and was in the living room waiting for Darin when he appeared ten minutes later, freshly shaved and looking as if he’d just stepped off the pages of a classy magazine.
Grant approved.
“Let’s go,” he said, picking up his keys.
Darin followed right behind him, his gait more lilted than it was earlier in the day. “Where are we going?”
“Out?”
“Out where?”
Pushing the button to raise their automatic garage door, he opened the door of his white F250 diesel truck, climbed inside and waited for his brother to get in and buckle himself up.
Darin reached the belt across with his right hand and then switched it to his left to buckle it. The belt sprang back into the door frame. Darin tried a second time.
And while Grant’s hands itched to grab the belt and slide it into the receptacle, he started the truck instead.
Darin’s belt sprang back a second time.
He backed down the drive.
The belt snapped a third time.
“You’ve always buckled your belt one-handed,” he commented casually. These random moments of confusion were difficult. For both of them. “With your right hand.”
He pulled out onto the street and couldn’t go any farther until Darin was safely buckled in.
“I know.”
Easing the truck over to the curb, Grant watched as Darin tried a fourth time. His brother’s face was lowered to his task, and Grant couldn’t get a good read on his expression. But his tongue wasn’t sticking out of his mouth the way it sometimes did when Darin was in a regressive state.
On the seventh try, the buckle snapped into place.
Grant put the truck in gear and drove away.
* * *
“WHERE ARE WE going, Grant?” Darin was looking out his window, seemingly entranced by the freshly painted Cape Cod–style homes they were passing, all with professionally landscaped, though smaller, yards.
The seventy-five-home neighborhood had been built with landscaping included.
Grant knew. He’d won the bid for the landscaping.
And they both knew the homes well. They were still in their neighborhood.
“Where do you want to go?” Grant sidestepped his brother’s question a second time.
He had a plan. Was taking control. Lynn had given them a problem and he’d deal with it. That was the way of his life.