Karen sighed and realized her husband was right; this wasn’t her usual style. Still, what happened between Scott and Chrissie bothered her for some reason, bothered her a lot, and she felt a mother’s urge to fix things, to repair the situation. Maybe she was being fanciful, but Karen saw in Chrissie the same kind of pain she herself had once felt.
“If Scott and Chrissie are meant to be together,” Matt said, relaxing against the back of his chair, “then it’ll happen without any interference from us.”
“Don’t be so sure.”
“Karen!”
“I can’t help myself,” she protested. “I’ve seen the look that comes over Chrissie’s face when anyone mentions Scott’s name. And the same is true of Scott. I know what it’s like to love someone so much that the hurt only seems to get worse. When we got divorced, it just about killed me.”
“Me, too,” Matt said quietly, his gaze sobering.
“We were both stubborn and afraid and in such pain.” Those weren’t times Karen ever wanted to relive. Pregnant and alone in California, afraid to tell Matt about the baby, afraid not to.
“And both of us so damn much in love.”
“Not that it helped us communicate any better.” They’d been defensive and bitter. In those days it’d been impossible to talk without their discussions erupting into arguments.
Matt reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “The part about me loving you hasn’t changed. All these years together proves it.”
On rare occasions, her husband could actually be romantic. And it was more meaningful because Karen knew it was genuine, heart-deep, and never a mere gesture.
“So you want to help Scott get back together with Chrissie?” he asked in a satisfied tone.
“If we can,” she said. “But we can’t tell anyone.” Whatever they did would have to be on the sly. Maybe a private conversation between Matt and Scott? Or a little confidential “girls’ talk”? They’d have to figure out the best approach.
“It’ll be our secret,” Matt agreed.
They emptied their leftover coffee into the sink and then, with a quick kiss, went about their busy days.
CHRISSIE ARRIVED at Scott’s “surprise party” early Friday evening. His mother opened the door, and Chrissie instantly lowered her gaze, feeling dreadful that she’d been the one to spoil the surprise. Almost immediately following her second run-in with Scott, Chrissie had called Abbey and confessed her faux pas. As always, Abbey had been gracious and immediately forgiven her mistake.
“Chrissie, would you stop?” Abbey said now, leading her into the large family home. “A surprise party was a ridiculous idea, anyway. I’m glad Scott knows, because it took away the pressure. Come inside and make yourself comfortable.”
Chrissie didn’t think that was possible. If not for Susan, she’d have found a convenient excuse to miss this party. Susan, however, wouldn’t have let her live it down.
Neither would Scott.
She’d say one thing about Scott O’Halloran—he was determined. That morning, when she got to work, she’d found a lovely bouquet of roses. Not just any roses, but red ones—a dozen perfectly formed buds. The card had read simply Scott.
Chrissie suspected he’d purchased them in Fairbanks the day before. Not that she was about to let a few beautiful roses sway her decision—although they must have cost him the earth.
It would take more than flowers. A lot more! As soon as the thought went through her mind, Chrissie tensed. No. She refused to even consider any kind of reconciliation. She refused to give Scott the power—or the opportunity—to hurt her again. He wasn’t going to find himself back in her good graces. No, sir! She’d be civil, but that was it. He was part of her past, not her future, and she fully intended to keep it that way.
With a quick detour to exchange hugs with Christian and Mariah O’Halloran, Chrissie headed straight for Susan, who was in the kitchen fussing with a variety of hors d’oeuvres. She slid them, hot from the oven, onto large ceramic platters. “Chrissie!” she cried when she saw her. “I knew you’d come.”
Grumbling, Chrissie reached for a green olive and munched on that, rather than argue. There was no point in explaining that she was here only under protest.
“Have you seen Scott?” Susan asked.
“No.” As much as possible, Chrissie planned to spend the night avoiding him—which was exactly what he’d accused her of. Too bad, she told herself firmly. She had no choice. Anyway, his opinion of her behavior was irrelevant.
“He’s the guest of honor, you know.”
Chrissie tossed her friend a dirty look and Susan laughed good-naturedly. Susan was pregnant and although the apron barely fit around her extended belly, she looked beautiful and healthy—and very happy. Ron was in the family room, chatting with friends. Chrissie caught a glimpse of him as he glanced at his wife. A pang of envy shot through her at the love, the adoration, she saw in his eyes.
“Let me take those mushrooms out for you,” Chrissie offered, and Susan handed her the oven mitts. Staying busy was the key, she decided. Standing around making idle chatter, wondering where Scott was—and how to stay out of his vicinity—would quickly drive her insane. She had to ignore the fact that he was somewhere in this crowded room…and probably watching her.
Picking up the large platter required two hands. A moment later, she was walking into the family room, balancing it carefully, when without warning Scott appeared directly in front of her.