Meant-to-Be Mum

Not that she hadn’t tried—

Okay, maybe that not-feeling-sorry-for-herself thing wasn’t working as well as she’d hoped.

“Tomorrow, maybe. It’ll be too late after dinner. They’ll be wanting to get the little one down, I imagine.”

Her father shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “So you gonna tell me what happened, or are we playing twenty questions?”

Sabrina smirked. “Wondered when you were going to ask.”

“Didn’t want to push.”

She held up her left hand, naked except for the imprint of the ring that had been there only yesterday. “Not that you haven’t already figured it out.”

“It was his boy, wasn’t it?”

Her vision blurred, Sabrina nodded. Chad didn’t have his six-year-old son very often—his ex had moved to the West Coast for work, and Robbie went with her—meaning the child wanted Daddy to himself when he did see him. Not that Sabrina blamed him.

“I couldn’t stand seeing the kid so miserable, Pop.”

“So you broke it off.”

“It was a mutual decision.”

“And the child was six. He would have gotten over it.”

From anyone else, her father’s words might have sounded callous. Uncaring. Except Sabrina knew the remark came from a place of deep love for kids. All kids. Which only made it harder to hear.

“You think I gave up.”

She nearly choked when her father walked over, wrapped her in his arms. For maybe two seconds, but still. Holy crap.

He let her go to return to the grill, scraping burgers on to a nearby plate before giving her a hard stare. “I wasn’t there, I have no idea what went on between you. But I know you,” he said, jabbing the spatula in her direction. “I know how good you are with kids. How crazy they are about you. So whatever was going on...” He lowered the lid again. “Not your fault.”

“Yeah, well, you also never liked Chad.”

“Only because I never felt he was worthy of you.”

“What? You never said that—”

“Didn’t have to, did I?”

“Chad’s a good man, Pop. Jeez, give me some credit.” He slanted a look in her direction, and her face warmed. “My point is, this wasn’t about me and Chad, it was about me and his little boy—”

“And that was his father’s issue to address, not yours. And if he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, do that...” His eyes narrowed. “Did he even try to fix the problem?”

“To be honest...” Her mouth twisted. “He looked...relieved.”

He jabbed the spatula at her again. Point made. “Sounds to me like he’s the one who gave up. You also have no idea what the kid’s mother was putting in his head about you.”

Actually, considering some of the things the child had said to her, she had a pretty good idea. But no need to add fuel to that fire.

Pop’s gaze softened. Marginally. “All I want is for you to be happy. Trust me, wouldn’t have happened for you with that guy. Not in the long run. Because eventually you would have lost out to the kid. Which you obviously knew, or you wouldn’t have ended it. Right?”

You know, there was a reason she’d left home. And not only because small-town Jersey was suffocating her. That the man spoke the truth—yet again—was beside the point.

Pop plated the kebabs, setting both them and the burgers on the table. “So I take it you’re staying for a while?”

“A few weeks, maybe,” Sabrina said, sitting across from him and spearing the smallest burger. “Until I...get my bearings again. That okay?”

“Like you have to ask. As long as I still have the house, anyway.” He glanced over again. “No bun?”

“Carbs, Pop.”

Shaking his head, he took a bite of his own burger, his gaze drifting out to the yard. Sabrina could probably guess what he was thinking. Or rather, who he was thinking about. Not looking at Pop, she slowly pulled off a piece of pineapple from her skewer and asked, “You ever think about dating again?”

After a long moment, she looked up to meet his glare. Bingo.

“And what would be the point of that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. How’s about going to a movie or out to dinner with someone not related to you? Might be fun. You should try it.”

One side of his mouth pulled up. Sort of. “This you not wanting to whine about your own problems?”

“You bet. So?”

Her father took another bite of his burger. “Seems like it’d be more trouble than it’s worth. Especially at my age.”

“So what’re you going to do with the next twenty or thirty years, Methuselah? Watch TV all day?”

“And maybe after all those years of taking care of everybody else, all I want to do is watch TV.”

“Not buying it. Sorry.”

“I’m good with things the way they are, thank you. Once I get out of this house...”

His voice once more trailing off, Pop glanced around, almost as if he didn’t recognize the place, before facing Sabrina again...and she saw in his eyes the depth of his loss in a way she never had before, prompting her to lean over to lay her hand on his wrist. Pushing out a sigh, Pop covered her hand with his own.

“You know, I lost track of how many times we moved, when I was on active duty. The number of places we lived. Far as I was concerned they were only places to sleep, way stations between assignments. But this...” He looked around again. “This was home. Where we raised all you kids. I know I don’t need it anymore. Have known for some time. And I plunked down my deposit on a one-bedroom unit at Sunridge last month—”

“Really? I didn’t know that.”

“Nobody does. Didn’t want you all hounding me.”

“Pop. You decided to sell. Months ago—”

“And at the time, I thought I was good with that decision. And in here,” he said, tapping his head, “I still am.” Then he palmed his heart. “In here is another story.”

“Which is why, I assume, you’re dragging your heels about giving the place a face-lift.”