That told her something, didn’t it?
Shouldn’t she feel a little devastated?
Shouldn’t she feel something besides…relieved?
“Cold?” Trey asked, glancing at her.
She shook her head, and wrapped her arm more securely around TJ’s hip.
They drove another five minutes in silence.
She could tell Trey had something on his mind from the way he glanced at her every now and then but she didn’t press him to speak, thinking no conversation was better than conflict and she was enjoying the quiet and the lack of tension and the big night sky which wrapped the truck.
Traveling together like this was both familiar and intimate. Trey on one side, she on the other with TJ in the center.
Trey cleared his throat. “Were you able to reach Lawrence?”
She shook her head. “Tried twice, got his voice mail each time. I left a message the second time.”
He was silent for another minute, before shooting her a side glance. “What did you say in the message?”
“That you and TJ needed to catch up and I thought it was a good idea for you to spend Christmas together.” She could tell he wanted to ask another question and so she headed him off, adding, “I also left a message for my friend Paige, letting her know everything was okay and that we were with you. I asked her to let my brothers and Aunt Karen know.”
“Your family won’t be happy.”
“I don’t know who will be more upset, my brothers or Aunt Karen.”
“Your aunt’s never liked me.”
“She didn’t dislike you until she found us naked together in my bedroom.”
“I wasn’t naked, and you had…a few things…on. Your blouse…your bra…” His voice trailed off and his lips curved in a rueful smile. “You know she wouldn’t have come running if you hadn’t been loud.”
“Don’t blame me! How was I to know how good it would feel? It’s your fault for being so…talented…that way.”
“We didn’t see each other for a while after that.”
“Two months I think, which was ridiculous because we’d been dating two years at that point. Did they honestly think you and I weren’t going to try anything? That we weren’t going to eventually mess around?”
The corner of his mouth quirked and they slipped back into silence, traveling another five miles with memories hanging over them.
She and Trey had grown up together. Hard to remember a time when they weren’t together…
“I didn’t think you wanted a big wedding,” he said, a few minutes later, his attention on the road. “You’d always said that when we got married you just wanted immediate family, something small and intimate.”
McKenna didn’t immediately reply. She would have preferred a small wedding but Lawrence had wanted to invite all his clients and friends so the wedding grew from fifty to one hundred and then one hundred and fifty, and that was where she put her foot down. One hundred and fifty was plenty for a candle light wedding the last Saturday before Christmas.
“I think the wedding was for Lawrence and the community,” she said after a moment. “There are many in Marietta who want closure for me…they want that happy ending.”
“And a fancy wedding would give them closure?”
“I think people want me to be happy, and they hoped that by marrying Lawrence, TJ and I would have stability.”
“Or maybe they were just glad that Lawrence would keep you away from me.”
She started to protest but closed her mouth, swallowing the protest. He was right. He was not Marietta’s favorite son.
“I never cared what people thought,” she said softly, glancing at him, and taking in his profile with the jutting jaw and firm press of lips. He was leaner than she remembered, and yet bigger, harder. He was carrying a lot of muscle still, but he seemed to have virtually no body fat.
In the light of the truck dash, he glowed, rugged and Hollywood handsome. Black hair, long black lashes, piercing blue eyes, chiseled bone structure.
He’d always been good looking, but in his mid thirties he had a maturity that suited him.
The last vestiges of boy were gone. He was all man. A gorgeous, darkly beautiful man.
When he’d been sentenced to prison she’d thought her heart was permanently broken and so it’d been a surprise when she finally accepted Lawrence’s invitation to dinner.
Maybe she was comfortable with Lawrence because he was nothing like Trey.
Lawrence wasn’t sexy or sexual. He wasn’t hard taut muscle. He wasn’t a rancher or a cowboy. He couldn’t rope a fence post, much less a steer. And no, he couldn’t fix the engine of a car or deliver a calf. He couldn’t drive in snow. He couldn’t shoot, hunt, fish or build a proper fire.
But he was sweet, and thoughtful, gentle and kind. If he said he’d be there at seven, he always showed up…five minutes early. If she needed anything, he was there. He treated her like she was the best thing since sliced bread and it felt good to be important and valued.
It felt good to know he’d be there the next day, and the day after, and the day after that.
It felt good not to worry that he’d be out too late, drinking too much, getting heated, instigating fights.
It felt good to be with someone that folks didn’t criticize.
“People really thought Lawrence would be a better husband and father than me?” Trey sounded incredulous. “A man who has so little backbone that he allows a five year old to walk all over him?”
“Well, TJ’s not just any five year old. He is your five year old.”
“My point exactly.”
She chewed on her lip, thinking, remembering the fight, the trial, the sentence and then those two years she drove twice a month to see him, carting the baby, who was quickly growing into a spirited toddler.
TJ always cried during the drives to the prison, but he cried the most when they left Trey behind. He cried because he didn’t know why he had to leave his daddy behind, again, and TJ’s tears and grief had worn her down. TJ had been too young to feel so much anguish. He hadn’t understood. She couldn’t seem to make him understand. And what about when Trey was released?
Would he be there for them then? Did she believe deep down he’d ever be there for them?
She hadn’t known anymore.
She hadn’t trusted Trey anymore.
She’d come to see him as others saw him—a dominant male, fierce and physical—but a man who was in need of reason and self-control.
She’d finally heard what everyone said….that he was reactive, responding instinctively without regard to risks and consequence, and she’d seen that they were right. He refused to grow up, refused to control his temper, refuse to bend or yield which meant he could never be depended on.
She loved how beautiful he wa
s, remembered how amazing it felt when they were together. Making love with Trey wasn’t just sexual, it was emotional and spiritual….or at least it used to be before she was so angry with him. So frustrated and hurt.
And so she’d found the opposite of Trey in Lawrence Joplin, and when Lawrence proposed the third time, she put aside her reservations, telling herself that passion was less important than predictability, and accepted his marriage offer, determined that the future would be different from the past.
But now everything had changed again and instead of being teary and conflicted, she was…calm.
Relieved.
There was that word again. She almost felt a little guilty for feeling relieved that she wasn’t marrying Lawrence. And now she wondered if that was why she had felt so many butterflies earlier, at the church. Had she been getting cold feet and she just wouldn’t admit it? Had she not wanted to marry him but was too afraid of hurting his feelings to say something?
She hoped she wasn’t that much of a coward. She’d been through too much in life to be a doormat…
But no, she wasn’t a doormat. She’d stood up to Trey plenty of times, refusing to marry him until he got his act together and grew up and acted like a man.
She’d stood up to her family when they’d pressured her to stop seeing Trey.
She’d ignored the gossip in Marietta when she’d chosen to be a single mom rather than marry a man she didn’t think was ready to settle down.
No, she wasn’t a doormat. And she had a spine. But she also was tender hearted when it came to those she loved. And she loved Lawrence, but probably more as a friend than a lover and life partner.
Which was why it baffled her that Lawrence had taken it upon himself to tell TJ why his father was in prison. Lawrence had promised her he wouldn’t say anything, agreeing to leave it to her so she could tell TJ when she thought the moment was right.
But Lawrence had broken that promise. Why?
And if he’d broken that promise to her, how much others had he not kept?