Liz hugged her arms across her chest. “That doesn’t matter now.”
“It matters a lot. All your life the people you care about have hurt you. Including Tyler. Now my son proposed in a way designed to make sure you know you’re not special to him.” Her voice softened. “For what it’s worth, I think he does care about you.”
Liz appreciated the support, but the words didn’t change anything. “Caring isn’t enough.”
“I know.” Denise looked as if she was going to say more on the subject, then sighed. “Please don’t take this wrong, but I think you should let Ethan have Tyler for the rest of the week and through the weekend.”
Liz froze. She eyed the door and wondered if she could go inside and grab her son and get out before Denise stopped her.
“Ethan and Tyler both have an unrealistic view of their relationship,” Denise continued. “I have six kids. I know what it’s like and sure, from the outside, it’s easy. He doesn’t have a clue as to the reality. Tyler doesn’t, either. Maybe you should let them find out.”
“I can’t,” she breathed.
Denise rose and moved toward her. They stared at each other.
“I give you my word Tyler will be safe. Ethan isn’t going to disappear with him. You know that. Let them find out just how boring everyday life can be. Your son loves you. Give him a chance to miss you.”
The words were impossible to hear, but Liz knew they were accurate. Her gut told her this was exactly what had to happen. Not that she could imagine even a day without her son. Although he’d been gone overnight before—to camp, with friends—this was different. This terrified her.
Slowly, she nodded. “Okay. Through the weekend.”
Denise pulled her close. “It will be all right. You’ll see.”
“I hope so.”
She hugged the other woman and was held in return. For a second she closed her eyes and absorbed the loving support.
“It’s not supposed to be this hard.”
Denise patted her back. “It’s not supposed to be a lot of things, but still we get through it. You’ll get through this.”
“I know.” She straightened. “I’m going to go home and pack his things. Would you mind calling Ethan and telling him the plan?”
“Not at all. Don’t you want Tyler to pack for himself?”
“No. If he’s so ready to move out, let’s start now.”
Denise touched her arm. “I feel your pain, honey. Hang in there.”
“I will,” Liz promised. After all, she didn’t have a choice.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO tonight?” Tyler asked, cutting into his steak. “We could watch a movie.”
Ethan thought about his collection of action movies—most of which were rated R—and knew they would be a bad choice. “We’ll check out pay-per-view.”
“Sweet! Mom only lets me watch movies on the weekend.”
Something Ethan hadn’t known. “Why?”
“I dunno. She wants me to read and stuff. Play outside. I wish she’d brought my Xbox.”
Ethan had a feeling that there was a specific reason for that. Liz had wanted him to spend as much time with his son as possible.
“How’s your steak?” Ethan asked.
“Good.” Tyler glanced at him. “Are you going to cook something else for dinner tomorrow?”
Because this was the second time in four nights he’d barbecued steaks. The other two nights they’d gone out.
Usually Ethan grabbed something on the way home, or his mother dropped off a casserole for him to heat up in the microwave. Since he’d taken Tyler, she hadn’t been anywhere to be seen and neither had his sisters. He’d left messages for all of them and while they’d called back, they’d managed to miss him both at the office and home. He had a feeling they were doing that on purpose.
The catering service he used when he had company was at the hotel for the week. Something about a big corporate retreat.
His cooking skills were limited at best, but there had to be something he could make.
“What would you like?” he asked.
“Lasagna.”
Pasta, meat and sauce. How hard could it be?
“Sure. I’ll swing by the grocery store tomorrow and we’ll have it tomorrow night.”
“We’re out of milk, too, and could we have a different cereal?”
“We’ll make a list after dinner.”
“Okay.” Tyler chewed another bite. “I don’t have any more clean clothes.”
“What?”
“I have socks and shorts, but no T-shirts or underwear. And I’m supposed to make a poster for camp tomorrow.”
Ethan stared at him. “What kind of poster?”
“Like for a movie. You have poster board, right?”
“Not exactly.” He frowned. Who knew summer camp had homework? “If you have to make a poster, we can’t watch a movie.”
“But you said we could.”
“That was before you told me about the poster. School comes first.”