Chapters (34)
- Cover
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Other Books by Susan Elizabeth Phillips
- Credits
- Copyright
- About the Publisher
“Did you get to see her a lot when you were young?”
“On television.”
“But not in person?” A woodpecker drummed not far away, and a hawk soared above the lake. She watched the rise and fall of his chest.
“She showed up once when I was sixteen. Must have been a slow time in Tinsel Town.” He opened his eyes and sat up. Molly expected him to get up and walk away, but he gazed out at the lake. “As far as I’m concerned, I had one mother, Maida Tucker. I don’t know what game the bimbo queen thinks she’s playing by coming here, but I’m not playing it with her.”
The word “bimbo” stirred old memories inside Molly. That used to be what people thought of Phoebe. Molly remembered what her sister had told her years ago. Sometimes I think “bimbo” is a word men made up so they could feel superior to women who are better at survival than they are.
“The best thing might be to talk to her,” Molly said now. “Then you can find out what she wants.”
“I don’t care.” He rose, grabbed his jeans, and shoved his legs in. “What a shitty week this is turning out to be.”
Maybe for him, but not for her. This was turning out to be the best week she’d had in months.
He pushed his fingers through his damp hair and spoke more gently. “Do you still want to go into town?”
“Sure.”
“If we go now, we can make it back by five o’clock. You’ll take care of tea for me, won’t you?”
“Yes, but you know you’ll have to deal with her sooner or later.”
She watched the play of hard emotion over his face. “I’ll deal with her, but I’m choosing the time and the place.”
Lilly stood at the attic window and watched Kevin drive away with the football heiress. Her throat tightened as she remembered his contempt. Her baby boy … The child she’d given birth to when she was barely more than a child herself. The son she’d handed over to her sister to raise as her own.
She knew it had been the right thing to do—the unselfish thing—and the success he’d made of his life proved that. What chance would he have had as the child of an undereducated, screwed-up seventeen-year-old who dreamed of being a star?