"He's doing well with his job at the restaurant. He's picking up some waiter duties as well as his regular busboy job. Better tips." She pivoted, rested back against the railing, late-afternoon breeze sweeping her hair over her shoulders. "And his grades are holding steady. He's keeping it together in spite of everything that's going on with us."
"He's a great kid."
Side by side, they looked into each other's eyes. Memories leapfrogged back and forth between them as tangibly as her loose dark curls floating on the breeze. Memories of Chris's birth. J.T.'s pride in his son. J.T.'s stoic features softened by a smile when he'd held their daughter, their firstborn.
And in that special moment twenty-one years ago with his daughter, Rena had thought maybe, just maybe everything would work out after all. Even if he'd married a woman he didn't love—a spoiled rich teenager who didn't know how to cook and clean, much less balance a checkbook or clip coupons.
She brushed the windblown hair from her face, tossing the long strands back over her shoulder, J.T.'s eyes watching her every move. Lingering on her hair.
More memories filled the air between them while countless cars cruised past. Images of her hair draped over his bare chest, of J.T. twining a long curl around his finger, tugging her closer. Closer still.
She swayed. "We did a good job with Chris. And Nikki, too. We got that much right, didn't we?"
So much for keeping things light.
Magnolia-scented gusts whispered around them while the hammock squeaked a taunting song from behind J.T. She thought for a minute he might dodge answering a question that delved into deeper waters. She wasn't sure why she even bothered pushing him anymore, pushing herself as well, because deep waters were dangerous for them, both with so many secrets unshared.
"Yeah, Rena. We did." His broad hand fell to rest beside hers on the white railing, not touching. But still she remembered well the pleasure of his calluses rasping against her bare skin.
She knew better now than to ask him what went wrong. If she did, he would sigh, dig in his boot heels to weather the storm while she did all the talking. Or yelling. She didn't like what she was becoming around him.
And she didn't want him to step away yet.
Oh God, she was so weak around this man when simply exchanging body heat across air turned her on. Rena backed toward the steps. "I really need to go. Chris has my car. I was hoping he'd come home sooner so we could trade, but I'm supposed to be at the base hospital in a half hour to head the support group meeting." Babbling again, damn it. "I'll just take Chris's car."
Then she wouldn't have to go inside with J.T. where no doubt they would end up n**ed on the floor in under two seconds. Maybe she needed to learn to be away from the house when J.T. picked up their son for weekend visits. Every meeting put her heart, her sanity, at risk.
"Rena?" He stopped her with a hand on her upper arm just below the sleeve of her peasant blouse. Skin to skin. Her bracelets tinkled in time with wind chimes to ride the magnolia-scented air in a sensuous serenade of more want, and God yes, she could see the desire smoking through his gray eyes, as well.
It wasn't enough. Not anymore.
Had he ever loved her? Somehow she thought maybe she could handle his leaving better if, for at least part of their time together, he'd loved her. If she'd been more to him than the woman he felt honor-bound to marry because the condom broke.
Yes, J.T. was all about honor, which made him even more admirable in her eyes after her father's "imports" business dealings. A cover for laundering Mob money, not that the feds could ever nail him.
J.T. was a man of honor to trust, and trust had been rare for her growing up.
"Rena?" he said again, his grip tightening.
"Oh, uh…" She startled and stared up at him, a long look even in her heels. "What did you say?"
"Is it okay with you if I wait inside? The temp's cranking up out here."
Just as when he'd rung the bell to the home he'd helped restore, this request to enter their house tore at her. They would need to talk soon, but now wasn't the time, when their son could walk in at any minute.
And not when she was seconds away from losing it. "Of course. Make yourself at—" Home. She swallowed down the word like lemonade without sugar.
A flicker of anger snapped in his eyes, a rare display of emotion from J.T., therefore even more potent. Well, damn him, he could get mad all he wanted. At least he would be talking.
The storm clouds in his eyes dispersed, distance reestablished. "Thanks."
"There's tea in the fridge." She inched away. From him. From herself, too, for that matter. From wanting him, hating him, even loving him still a little, which made her resent him all the more. "I need to head back to base. I'll pick up Chris on Sunday."
"I'll bring him back by tomorrow to swap cars."
"Thank you." No arguing. They would be civil about their offspring.
Nodding, J.T. turned away, twisted the doorknob, left her. Her shoulders sagged with her sigh. Rena blinked back tears blurring the setting sun and J.T.'s broad shoulders. She'd already cried countless tears over this man—many of them bathing his bruised body after his return from Rubistan. Yet still he'd rejected her offer of reconciliation. Zipping up his flight suit on the way out of their bed and her life, he'd made his position clear.