Mad About You

touting plans for their future. How could she confess they were the epitome of the modern dysfunctional family—a divorced couple juggling a troubled child?
    Bailey slipped his arm loosely around her waist, his hand resting casually on her side after giving her a slight squeeze. Her heart rattled in her chest, quickened by his touch. She somehow found her voice. "E-eight years ago the media came to our aid when our son was taken from us. I can't tell you how much it means to me"—Virginia stopped and swallowed hard before continuing—"to see my son again after all these years. Please pay attention to posters, fliers in the mail, milk cartons—any pictures of missing children. Someday you may be the one to reunite a family." A family of strangers , she added silently.
    The crowd applauded loudly, but began to fire questions before the noise even died down.
    "Ms. Catron," an older, pleasant-faced woman asked, "how does your son look to you?"
    Virginia smiled. "He looks very much like his father."
    "Handsome?" the woman pressed, her eyes twinkling.
    "Well, um... of course." Her face burned and she heard Bailey's low chuckle beside her.
    "How is your son taking the news?" another woman asked.
    She hesitated. "He's confused, naturally, and as surprised as we are, but I'm sure things will work out fine." Liar, her mind nagged.
    "Ms. Catron," a man near her asked, "I assume from your name that the two of you are no longer married?"
    "That's correct," she said calmly. A disappointed murmur resounded.
    "Have you both remarried?"
    "No, neither of us," Bailey piped in helpfully.
    "Are you planning to get back together?"
    The crowd tittered, and every reporter waited, straining forward for a juicy tidbit of gossip. She felt Bailey's arm tighten and she tingled with humiliation. There could be an us, he'd said, as if now that their son had been found, things were right with the world again. He'd never turned his back on her, never broken her heart.
    One woman grew bolder following Virginia's hesitation. "How about it, any chance of you two getting back together?"
    "No," Virginia said with confidence.
    "Anything is possible," Bailey said at the same time.

Chapter Five

    BAILEY SCANNED THE SMALL, sparsely furnished room, eyeing the disappointing distance between the neatly made twin beds in opposite corners. A floor lamp situated behind mismatched armchairs in the center of the room cast harsh light to the perimeter. The air hung stale and prickly hot. A vase of wilting cut flowers sat on a round coffee table between the chairs. Plain navy curtains hung at the single half-window above an ancient television with a rabbit ear antenna.
    "Looks cozy," he said cheerfully, crossing the faded green carpet and dropping his garment bag on one of the chairs. "Reminds me of when we lived in the old homeplace, Ginny." He spun and caught the flash of panic on her face, then told himself to slow down. She'd barely uttered ten words since his spontaneous public announcement that he wouldn't mind them getting back together. He laughed to ease the tension, then said, "Of course, Rita has done such a great job with the place, you wouldn't recognize it."
    She walked over and claimed a bed with her lone piece of luggage. "It wasn't all that bad before," she said, her gaze darting around the room.
    "Hey." He spoke softly. When she looked at him, he continued. "Are you okay with this? I can go to the hotel."
    "No," she said hastily. "I mean, yes, I'm okay with it." She laughed nervously, tugging on the zipper of her bag. "We're adults, Bailey, not teenagers hopped up on hormones."
    "You're right." Bailey carefully kept his voice light. "After all, what's one night? We've spent hundreds of nights together."
    With a final jerk the zipper on her bag gave way. "And thousands more apart," she reminded him.
    Properly chastised, he cracked his knuckles. "Well, what do you think of our son?"
    Pausing, she pursed her lips, looking thoughtful. "He was different from what I expected, but I'm not even sure what I expected."
    "He seems like an okay kid, but I think he's got a bit too much spunk for his own good."
    She smiled tightly. "You know what they say about the apple not falling far from the tree." She pulled out a handful of toiletries and headed for the bathroom, visible through a narrow door next to her bed. Nudging the door open with her elbow, she then arranged shampoo and toothpaste on the tiny vanity in the vintage room.
    Anticipation stabbed him