“More...complete,” she hedged.
“It’s not my fault he died, Reagan.”
“I’m not blaming you for that. I’m just saying that Serenity grew up believing the man who raised her was her father.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. Maybe her mother felt it was better that she not know. Her mother could’ve kept it a secret from both of them.”
“That’s it?”
“What more can I say?”
“You don’t seem to be the least bit curious about Serenity and Lorelei.”
“I’m not. And if I were you, I wouldn’t waste time worrying about the past.”
Reagan, who felt she was always trying to mitigate her mother’s irritation, felt a strong dose of irritation herself. “I’ve never had siblings. Now I have two. And you’re acting as if...as if it’s no big deal?”
“I have an appointment,” she repeated. “I have to go. We’ll talk about it when you get back, okay?”
“I’m not coming back.” She spoke quickly to catch her mother. “Not until the end of August.”
There was a long pause. “What about your job?”
Downstairs, she could hear voices, louder than before. Finn must’ve arrived.
“I don’t work at the agency anymore.”
“Why not?”
Dropping her head in her hand, she massaged her forehead as she sifted through all the various excuses she’d thought up—that she was tired of working her life away, that the partners at Edison & Curry were suddenly holding her back, that she wanted to do something else with her life.
So she had no idea why she suddenly blurted out the truth. Maybe it was because she was tired of trying not to set her mother off or lose her approval. Or maybe it was that so much of her life was already unraveling she felt a certain reckless abandon—the desire to go ahead and smash the whole damn thing. “Because I had sex with my boss right on his desk. But everyone makes mistakes. Right, Mom?”
She disconnected before she realized she was going to do it. Then, her blood rushing in her ears, she stared down at her phone. She’d never hung up on her mother before.
“Shit,” she muttered. Apparently, all kinds of things were changing.
She was changing. And she had no idea if she’d even recognize herself when it was over.
Especially if she was pregnant.
The possibility that she might be expecting a child was the only bombshell she hadn’t told Rosalind.
It was also the one that would upset her the most.
17
lorelei
FINN SMELLED GOOD—woodsy with a hint of...citrus? Lorelei couldn’t remember ever finding a scent so appealing. Every time she passed him as they carried the food out to the deck, she wished she could stop, put her nose up against the warm skin at the opening of his polo shirt and breathe deeply.
She was obviously developing a crush on him, which wasn’t good. The last thing she needed was more pressure on her marriage. But she couldn’t seem to help herself. She loved the timbre of his voice, his ready smile, the twinkle in those unusual amber-colored eyes when someone said something amusing.
And she found the casual way he approached life soothing. Just being around him helped relieve some of the angst that gripped her whenever she thought of Mark or Francine.
So, regardless of anything else, she was glad she’d met Finn. After putting all of her effort and energy exclusively toward her home and family for ten years, she felt as though she’d been digging a tunnel—burrowing a little deeper each day—and she was only now returning to the surface to poke her head out and take a look at the world she’d left behind.
Maybe she should’ve crawled out of that tunnel sooner. Maybe she could’ve prevented what’d happened between Mark and Francine if she’d been less concerned with filling a role and more concerned with what her husband was thinking and feeling and doing.
Mark had obviously found his life too unexciting. And as much as she hated to admit it, she could be partly responsible. She’d forgotten to change things up now and then, search out new opportunities, be flexible. If he hadn’t done what he’d done—ripped their marriage apart at the seams—it was possible she would’ve spent the next ten, twenty or even thirty years, if not the rest of her life, continuing to dig that same tunnel.
The weird thing was that she’d considered herself happy.
Now—and this was an uncomfortable thought—she wondered if she’d just felt safe. Safe by itself would be such an improvement over the insecurity she’d felt as a child it was entirely possible she’d believed their relationship was strong simply because there’d never been any real blowups—until Francine.
Was it possible their marriage had gone stagnant, and she’d been too busy doing her part as a good wife and mother to notice?
“His fever is gone?” Serenity was talking to Finn about Davis as they sat down to wait for Reagan.
“Yes. He should be here on Sunday.”
Lorelei helped Lucy scoot her chair closer to the table. “That’s wonderful.”
“It wasn’t looking good there for a minute,” he admitted. “Instead of him coming here, I thought I’d have to go home, at least for a while. But when he woke up this morning, his temperature was back to normal.”
Serenity handed them each a napkin. “Did they give him antibiotics?”
“They did. He was resistant to whichever one they used first, so they switched to a new one.”
“Thank God this one is working.”
One of the French doors opened and Reagan hurried out onto the deck. “Sorry, I was on the phone.”
She seemed flustered.
“Everything okay?” Serenity asked, but Lorelei could plainly see that it wasn’t. The way Reagan sank into her chair, as though having it there to catch her came as a relief, suggested she wasn’t feeling very steady on her feet.
“I’m not sure.”
Lucy eyed her critically. “Are you crying, Aunt Reagan?”
“No.” The edge to her voice indicated she was on the verge, however. “I like it when you call me Aunt Reagan,” she added, attempting a smile. “That makes me feel a lot better.”
Lorelei peered more closely at her. “What’s going on?”
“I just hung up on my mother.”
Serenity, who’d stood and grabbed the pitcher of iced tea as soon as Reagan appeared, waited before actually pouring it into their glasses. “Did you say hung up on—or hung up with?”