Molly laughed. “You used to think I was.”
“Maybe I still do,” Cait said, very softly.
It was one of those moments that made every travail of being a parent worthwhile.
* * *
IN THE FOLLOWING WEEK, Molly enjoyed every minute of this new, gentler relationship. She didn’t kid herself, though, that it would survive if Cait learned her mom was sneaking around to have sex with the last man on earth of whom she’d approve.
Molly was torn between two opposing lines of thought. The first was: why in hell were two single adults trying to hide a perfectly legitimate romantic—or was it only sexual?—relationship from their kids? The second was: dear God, please don’t let us be caught.
She felt more alive than she had in years. If it was just sex, she could be consoled by the knowledge that it was fabulous sex. She had never in her life had anything that could be labeled a “quickie,” but she’d now had a couple of those, and they really did spice up the day. Twice she and Richard had met at her house at lunchtime—her house being safer because Cait was stuck at school thanks to the closed campus rule, while Trevor wasn’t.
The first time, they’d barely made it inside the door. Her blouse ended up torn. The only clothes of hers that came off were her tights and panties. Richard only unzipped his pants and shoved his boxers down. He took her against the wall.
On their second lunch date, they did get as far as the sofa, and she protected her wardrobe by hastily unfastening a few buttons.
After both occasions, the afternoon had passed with her basking in a physical glow that definitely reduced her stress levels as she fenced with bureaucracy, a janitor who got caught stealing and parents irate over an incident they deemed to be bullying.
The thing was, Molly was pretty sure the relationship was romantic, too, because even when they’d had frantic, passionate sex at lunchtime, she and Richard also talked on the phone come evening for up to an hour. One of them called the other almost every night. For the first time, Molly had become grateful that Cait vanished to her bedroom fairly early every evening. The behavior was normal for her; she might be working on school assignments, but mostly she seemed to be online with friends, on the phone with someone or listening to music. Sometimes all three at once. That left Molly free to talk to Richard.
They never seemed to run out of things to talk about. Occasionally it was their kids, often tidbits of news or philosophical debates. She argued with him for a good hour one night about whether someone who had chosen to join the military then had the right to claim conscientious objector status when deployed to a war of which said person disapproved. Intriguingly, Molly had taken the “no” stance, Richard the “yes.” It reminded her of the heady days in college before she became a married student with a baby. She loved learning how this man thought, and it was obvious he felt the same about her.
What they didn’t do was talk about their relationship. They were in limbo and both knew it. Cait’s and Trevor’s problems had to come first. That he agreed with her was one of the things Molly loved about him.
And yes, love was the right word. Although she didn’t think so, it was possible Richard was mostly interested in the sex. But she had fallen in love. Really in love, in a way she’d never been in her life. What she’d felt for Colt was more of a crush. It was part of the same excitement of being out on her own for the first time, knowing how many possibilities there were, imagining a future. The two of them would never have lasted if they hadn’t trapped themselves with a pregnancy.
Which she couldn’t regret, because then she wouldn’t have Cait. But maybe…maybe she had another chance. She hadn’t thought she would, not once childbearing became impossible for her. And then once the years passed. By the time she’d turned thirty-five, it was obvious the good guys were all taken. On her occasional dates, she usually figured out fairly quickly why this guy wasn’t.
What she hadn’t figured out yet was why Richard hadn’t let himself get snapped up postdivorce. He’d been single for something like ten years now. Two of those years had been spent serving in Iraq, but still. Either Alexa had burned him badly, or the way he’d gotten trapped into marriage and responsibility in the first place had left him disinclined to burden himself that way again.
But she kept remembering the way he’d said, “Our time will come, Molly.” He couldn’t have meant only for sex, could he?
* * *
“BREE TOLD YOU THAT?” Richard adjusted the phone while he juggled cold cuts and French rolls between fridge and counter. “Yeah, he’s doing a lot better.”