know.” It didn’t escape Rosie’s notice that she wasn’t the one her daughter had reached out to. Instead, a woman who was virtually a stranger had stepped into the role of mentor. Rosie could now add another failing to her list: besides being a bad wife and an inadequate housekeeper, she was a terrible mother.
It was suddenly too much for her, and pulling out a chair, Rosie buried her face in her hands.
“Are you all right?” Allison asked.
“Fine…sorry, just give me a minute.”
“Tell me what’s wrong,” Allison insisted.
How could she? Rosie kept her face covered and continued to cry into her hands. She could hear Allison and Eddie whispering in the background, but she was too upset to pay attention.
After about ten minutes, she stood, unloaded her grocery bags and set a pan on the stove top. She wasn’t hungry, but in all likelihood the children were. She was enough of a failure without adding that to her list of sins.
The front door opened, and Rosie quickly wiped her cheeks and reached for a tissue to blow her nose. When she looked up, she discovered Zach standing in the kitchen doorway.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Allison and Eddie crowded around their father. “Don’t be mad, Mom. We called Dad.”
“Why would you do that?” she demanded, knowing she sounded defensive. At this point she didn’t care.
Allison took a step forward. “Because you wouldn’t stop crying.”
“Your father—”
Zach’s jaw tightened. “I’m right here, Rosie. There’s no need to talk about me as if I wasn’t in the room.”
She placed her hands on her hips and glared at him. “This is my time with the kids.”
“Fine, whatever. I’ll just turn around and leave.”
“No.” It was Eddie who spoke first.
Allison echoed him. “No. Dad, Mom needs you.”
“I don’t,” Rosie muttered.
“You do, Mom,” Allison said. “Now, talk, both of you, and Eddie and I’ll cook dinner.”
Eddie seemed ready to protest, but at a glance from his sister, he closed his mouth.
Rosie and Zach frowned at each other for a moment before Zach gestured toward the family room. “It looks like we have our orders.”
Rosie grabbed a second tissue and reluctantly followed her ex-husband.
They sat as far apart from each other as possible. Rosie took one end of the sofa and Zach sat on the edge of the recliner. Neither said anything for several tense minutes.
“I wanted to explain about my comment the other day,” Zach said.
Rosie wasn’t up to hearing another confession. She raised her hand, stopping him. “Please don’t. Frankly, I don’t want to hear it.”
Zach ignored her request. “I felt it was only fair to tell you—”
“Didn’t you hear me?” she said, losing patience.
“The least you can do is let me explain.”
“Why, so you can drag my self-esteem through the gutter again? Fine, you had an emotional affair. I heard you the first time. I got the message.”
Zach hung his head. “But I was never physically involved with Janice.”
“That’s not the point. You were in love with her.”
“No,” he corrected quickly. “I had an emotional relationship with her, and there’s a difference.”
Rosie wasn’t sure that was true. All she knew was that her husband, the man she loved, had wanted another woman.
“When I look back on everything that led up to the divorce,” Zach continued, “I understand how you must have felt. Instead of answering your concerns, I saw you as a jealous shrew.”
“I was,” Rosie admitted softly. She closed her eyes in shame as she remembered the things she’d said, the way she’d behaved toward her husband.
“I’m sorry, Rosie. I couldn’t regret what happened any more than I already do. I hurt you, I hurt our children and in the process I hurt myself.”
She sniffled loudly. “I’m sorry, too, but that isn’t the only reason I’m crying. Oh, Zach,” she wailed, “the kitchen is so beautiful.”
“You noticed,” he said, and there was a note of satisfaction in his voice. “I wanted to do something for you and that was the only thing I could think of.”
“You’re a better housekeeper than I’ll ever be,” she sobbed.
“Hey, we each have our strengths and weaknesses.”
“And a better cook.”
He shrugged, teasing her with a sexy grin. “I disagree with you there.”
Rosie blew her nose. “The kids don’t think so. Eddie said your spaghetti sauce is better than mine.”
“You use the stuff in jars. I make it fresh.”
“See what I mean?”
“Okay,” Zach conceded, “I make better spaghetti than you do, but no one bakes an orange cake as good as yours.”
She gave him a hopeless look. “The recipe’s from a boxed cake mix.”
“Do you think anyone cares so long as it tastes good?”
He smiled at her again and this time Rosie smiled shyly back.
Allison and Eddie marched into the room.
“Feel better, Mom?” Her teenage daughter was far too pleased with herself.
Rosie nodded. “Much better, thank you both.” She glanced over at Zach. “Thank you, too.”
Her ex-husband stood up, obviously ready to leave.
“Dad,” Eddie said in a stage whisper. “Ask her.”
“Ask her what?” Zach whispered back.
“On a date.”
“What?” Rosie stared at her son.
“I think Dad should ask you on a date,” Eddie explained.
Zach frowned, not meeting Rosie’s eyes. “Your mother’s going out with that widower now.”
Allison
