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He’d certainly never begged her for anything, had never declared that she was his princess—something to be treasured. Maybe he’d never loved her at all, but he did love Allison.
She tried to figure out what she was feeling. She didn’t want him back. She just couldn’t stop wondering how things would have been different between them if just once he’d loved her enough to beg.
The crack of a bat brought her back to the game. Summer’s hit sailed over second base, allowing her to make it to first and two teammates to score.
Crystal made her way across the bleachers and sat next to Erica.
“At this rate, we might be done early,” the other softball mom said with a faint smile. “You doing all right?”
Erica didn’t know what to do with the question. “I’m fine. How are you?”
“Good. I was just wondering how you were handling everything. I know it’s been tough. Poor Summer, with her dad and all. She’s staying strong, but the whole family has to be shattered.”
Erica stared at her, wondering how Crystal had ever found out what was—
Of course, she thought, mentally slapping herself on the forehead. Crystal and her friends were the mothers of Summer’s friends. Her daughter would talk to her girlfriends about the trauma of her father’s arrest and what was happening with Allison. The teens would tell their mothers, who were also friends and would talk.
She glanced past Crystal and saw the other mothers watching them. When her gaze met theirs, they quickly looked away.
“I don’t know him well,” Crystal said in a low voice. “Peter, I mean. I’ve met him. We all have. Dropping off our girls at his house or when he dropped off Summer on the weekends. And of course from before the divorce. I always thought he was just a regular father. One of the guys. It’s shocking.”
“It is,” Erica admitted. “I don’t know very much. Peter and I have been divorced over four years.”
“You had no idea about his—” Crystal paused, then dropped her voice to a whisper “—criminal intentions.”
“Do you think I would have stayed married to him if I thought he was breaking the law?” Erica snapped. “Do I strike you as that kind of person?”
Crystal cringed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m saying this all wrong. I’ve never known anyone who did anything like this. I just wanted to say I’m sorry and ask if I can help.”
Erica held in a sigh. None of this was Crystal’s fault. As for Erica being the object of curiosity and pity, well, that couldn’t be helped.
“Thank you,” she said, trying to sound gracious. “This has nothing to do with me beyond how it affects Summer. I’m fine. I just want to make things right for her.”
“Of course. I know she’s worried about her stepmother. I guess she’s pregnant and really scared.”
“Wouldn’t you be?”
“Yes. It’s an impossible situation.” Crystal offered her an awkward smile. “Anyway, I just wanted to say I’m here.”
“I appreciate that.”
She told herself Crystal wasn’t the problem and blaming her was silly. She should accept the offer in the spirit in which it was meant. If Crystal and her friends also got a little thrill from the salaciousness of it all, who could blame them?
“If you hear Summer say anything that catches your attention, please let me know. If she seems overly upset or worried. She’s only sixteen and this is a lot.” And Allison was taking advantage of her willingness to listen.
“I will,” Crystal promised. “Absolutely.”
“Thank you.”
They smiled at each other. Erica was about to mention she could stay here for the rest of the game when Crystal said, “I’d better get back.” She paused. “I won’t tell them what you said. I know this is a private matter.”
“I appreciate that.”
The promise was nice, but Erica couldn’t help wondering how long it would be until Crystal broke it. She didn’t care what the other women knew. They could talk about Peter and his issues for days. As long as word didn’t get back to her kid, they could talk about her and Peter and Allison, speculating as they liked. Just leave Summer out of it.
Allison paced in her living room, glancing at the wall clock every time she made a circuit. In exactly two minutes—assuming Erica was going to be on time, and didn’t she seem the type?—her husband’s first wife was going to show up to talk to her. At least that was what Erica’s text had said. Or more precisely:
I’d like to stop by tonight after Jackson’s in bed. How’s 8?
