Free A Love to Call Her Own by Marilyn Pappano Page B

herself, but she’d never needed one. In Patricia’s life, she came first.
    When he turned around again, he caught a glimpse of a paper plate with dessert stuck behind the plant there. Lucy’s? Had she been uncomfortable about eating in front of him? With his schedule, he grabbed food whenever a few minutes opened up and ate it too quickly to properly appreciate it, whether it was chips from a vending machine or takeout from his favorite restaurant.
    A phrase popped up in his memory, one Brianne had heard a lot: She’d be pretty if she’d lose weight. Or: She’s got such a pretty face. Too bad about that weight problem. Or worse: She’s really pretty, but damn, she’s fat. Brianne had gotten back at them all, though. She’d finished college, gotten a job, started eating healthy and being active, and she’d lost all that stressed-out, bad-diet weight. On top of that, the pretty girl had become damn near breathtaking as an adult. One big win for you, kid.
    Lucy was pretty, too. She had brown hair that fell to her shoulders, natural, no additional colors streaked in. Her eyes were blue, her skin flawless, her smile even and also natural. Nothing posed about that smile. She had an unfortunate tendency to discount her own accomplishments, but people dealt with insecurity in different ways, and she was obviously very compassionate. He could see why Patricia wanted her for a friend.
    â€œWill you be spending the night in town?” Lucy broke the quiet that had settled over them with the soft question. “I have a thing at six that I can’t miss, but I can fix dinner before I go, and I can come back when I’m done.”
    It would be easy to say, Yes, come back. He’d brought a bag with everything he’d need for an overnight stay, just in case, but he’d much rather stay in a motel than at his mother’s house. He didn’t want to be a guest in her and George’s house, in her and George’s life.
    But Lucy had already given up a lot of time, even taking off work, and Ben had come here to— To stop the phone calls from Lucy and Jessy? To do the right thing in his father’s eyes? To take the family responsibility so neither Brianne nor Sara would have to?
    One answer was sure: not to rebuild some sort of relationship with Patricia.
    Maybe he’d come for karma. As Lucy had said on the phone, If you show her compassion now, it’ll mean something to you later.
    Beside him, she laughed. “I’d hate to ask you a difficult question if it takes you this long to answer a yes/no thing.”
    He heaved a dramatic breath. “Yes, I’ll stay the night. No, you don’t need to fix dinner. I’m sure there’s enough food in the kitchen to feed the whole neighborhood. Just remember, though, if this goes really bad, I’m holding you responsible.”
    Her second smile showed she didn’t take him seriously. “Trust me, no matter how it goes, you’ll have the satisfaction of knowing you tried—”
    Behind her, the front door swung inward, the ribbons on its wreath drifting in the air. Ben’s gut tightened, his fingers gripping the chair arms as if trying to splinter them. This was a really bad idea, maybe the worst he’d ever had. He should have told Lucy no way in hell. He should have changed his name and his phone number and moved someplace where Patricia would never find him.
    It took forever for her to step outside, and the first thing he noticed was her bare feet—also one of the earliest things he remembered about his mother. She’d loved kicking off her shoes, inside or out, and had even married his father in her fussy, girly white gown and bare feet.
    Pointless memory.
    â€œOh, Lucy, I woke up and thought you were gone. I know I’m taking up way too much of your time, but you can’t imagine how much comfort it gives me, having you—” Finally Patricia noticed him, her