Shelley Galloway - The Mommy Bride

Since she obviously didn’t want to speak of it, he gestured to the boys’ locker room. “What set Wes off?”

“I praised fourth place and called him ‘honey.’” Biting her bottom lip, Claire said, “At least I think that’s what I did wrong.”

“Not so good to a competitive, tough wrestler. Almost fighting words.”

Surprise and a bit of humor filled her gaze. “You get it.”

“Unlike you, I was a boy once.”

As they watched Wes, dressed in gray sweats and carrying an old backpack on his shoulder, leave the locker room with two other boys, Ty noticed a ribbon around the boy’s neck, though the medal was tucked under his sweatshirt. “Something tells me he’s prouder of that medal than he let on.”

“You think so?” Hope sprang to life in her eyes. “When I said that I thought fourth place was great, he glared. I keep saying the wrong things today.”

“Ever think that maybe you’re saying everything right and it’s Wes who’s taking everything wrong?”

“No. I need to support Wes. To be the best person I possibly can for him. I’ll just have to work on my words with him a little bit more.”

Wes picked up his pace as he approached. “Hi, Dr. Slattery.”

“Hi.”

Wes looked at him curiously. Claire probably would never see it, but there was a definite look of possession in the boy’s posture. Wes put it into words. “What are you doing here with my mom? My shoulder was good today.”

“It looked like it. I just wanted to tell you I saw your pin in that last match. How many seconds did that last? Thirty?”

“Coach said twenty-eight.”

There was a hint of a swagger in Wes’s voice. Ty firmly kept his expression low-key instead of smiling. “Impressive.”

“Yeah. I’m not very good. Some guys on the squad did youth wrestling, so they’ve got lots of experience. I’m getting better, though.”

“Good enough to place, huh?”

Wes fingered the ribbon around his neck. “Yeah. I was really surprised. This is just my second year. Coach said I did a good job.”

Though Claire was quiet, Ty noticed she was loving the amount of information Wes was divulging. Obviously, the boy had mastered the “I’m fine, nothing’s new” routine. Because he was intrigued by Claire’s past and because it looked like Wes could use a buddy, he impulsively said, “Hey, I was thinking about going out for chili. Are you hungry, Wes? Maybe we could all grab something to eat.”

“I’m starved.” After glancing his mom’s way, he tempered his response. “I mean, yeah, I could probably eat.”

Now all Ty had to do was convince Wes’s mom to give him a chance. “Do you like Cincinnati chili, Claire?”

She blinked. “Not really.”

“Oh. Well, they have other things at Skyline,” he said quickly. Why hadn’t he offered to go out for burgers? “I think they have salads there.”

“Thanks, but I don’t think—”

“It’s just food, Claire. I promise.”

“Thanks, but maybe some other time.” Turning to her son, she said, “Wes, are you ready to go home?”

Wes hadn’t moved. “No. I’m starving, Mom. Why can’t we go out to eat? We never go out to eat.”

Something dimmed in her eyes. “That’s because—”

Quickly Ty spoke. The last thing he’d wanted to happen was to bring up a touchy subject. “You sure about dinner? We could go to Wendy’s or something—”

After another look at Wes, Claire said, “You know what? Chili’s fine.”

“So that means we can go?” Wes asked.

“I think fourth place deserves a special treat.” Hesitantly, she glanced Ty’s way. “Are you sure you have time to eat with us, Dr. Slattery?”

Wes rolled his eyes. “Mom, he asked us.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want your company,” Ty stressed.

“Please, Mom?”

“All right, then. We’ll meet you there. For chili.”

“Great. I’ll go ahead and get us a table.” Ty walked out before Claire could change her mind.

Of course, Ty didn’t know if Claire had ultimately agreed because she, too, knew there was something tangible between them…or if she was only thinking of her son.

At the moment, he didn’t want to know.

After edging her Corolla out of the icy parking lot and onto the salt-treated streets, Claire sneaked a peek at Wes.

Without a word, he’d tossed his backpack on the backseat and climbed in next to her. Now he was pushing buttons on the radio, flipping stations every twenty seconds. With each push, clips of loud music burst out of the speakers, jarring Claire even more than the chunks of gravel and snow under the wheels of the car. “Choose a station now, Wes.”

“I’m trying.”

“Choose or the radio’s going off,” she said, purposely injecting a tone that welcomed no argument.

His finger hovered over the knob before he defiantly turned it off himself. “Fine. Now nothing’s on. Happy?”

Claire bit back a sigh as she slowly rolled to a stop at the light. What in the world was going on with him? Was this typical teen behavior? Something more?

Instead of berating him for his attitude, she cast him a worried look. “What’s wrong? You okay?”

“I guess.”

Something was wrong. That gravelly tone in his voice only came when he was on the verge of tears. “Listen, I’m sorry I snapped about the radio, but it’s hard to concentrate on the road when a different song clicks on every two seconds. You’ll understand when you’re driving.”

“That’s a long time from now.”

“Not so long. Just three years.”

“That’s forever.”

As the light turned green and she accelerated, Claire privately knew better. Forever was never a long time.

For years, it had just been the two of them. Wes probably didn’t realize it, but he was her stability, her rock. No matter what was going on in their lives, she could count on Wes to be her partner. Now it looked like that relationship was changing.

“You can try the radio again if you want.”

After a moment’s pause, Wes pushed the button and again went through the whole process, just like he hadn’t heard a word she said. As Christina got replaced by Pink and then by some rapper, Claire had had enough. Pushing the power button in, an abrupt silence permeated the interior of the car.

Wes scowled. “What did you do that for?”

“You know why. You pushing button after button gives me a headache.”

“There’s no good music on.”

“I told you we could pop in a cassette.”

“Mom, your car has to be the only one in Ohio that still has a cassette player. We need a CD player. Or better yet, an iPod. You can get an attachment so you can hear your iPod in the car.”

So much for Wes being her partner. If he was, he’d realize she was pretty darn happy to have a car, an apartment, food and money in the bank. “Maybe next year.”

“It’s always next year.”

“We used to hope for the very things we have now,” she pointed out, just about at the end of her patience. “I’m surprised you’ve forgotten what life was like, living in our van.”

He slumped. “I haven’t forgotten. I just get sick of never having what everyone else has. Here in Lane’s End everyone has stuff I don’t.”

“Even rich kids want things they don’t have, Wes. You need to learn to be happy with what you’ve got. Count your blessings.”

“You tell me that every day.”

“Obviously I need to. What is going on with you? Is it the wrestling meet? Is your shoulder bothering you?”

“No.”

“What? And don’t say nothing. We’re almost at Skyline Chili. I don’t want you pulling this attitude in front of Dr. Slattery—especially since he was nice enough to ask us out to eat.”