No One But You

pretty and preppy looking, with straight blond hair and a sweet smile. “I suppose it was only a matter of time.”
    “He likes her.”
    “It’s all part of growing up.” Mariah tried to ignore the spark she felt when Wyatt’s gaze met hers. “But I can’t help wanting to spare him the pain of his first heartbreak.”
    “You make that sound evitable.”
    “Isn’t it?”
    “Do you mean like it was for us? I guess so, but there’s nothing like your first love. Even though you shattered me, I wouldn’t have traded those months for the world.”
    “ I shattered you? Wasn’t it the other way around?”
    “No.” Wyatt still had that good heart. “You devastated me, Mariah.”
    “I’m glad to see you recovered.”
    “Not as well as you might think.” He turned his attention to the teenaged waiter in a red shirt who approached their table.
    “Hi, Mrs. Duncan.” The kid eyed her companion curiously as he set glasses of ice water on the table. “Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you on a date before.”
    “Hi, Leif. This isn’t a date.”
    “It sure looks like one.” The kid poised his pen over his notepad. “The usual?”
    “Better add another large and three colas.”
    “And a beer. Whatever you have on tap.” Wyatt leaned back in his chair, amused, as the teenager walked away. “He’s never seen you on a date before? You weren’t kidding about not dating. Have you gone out at all since your divorce?”
    “No.”
    “How long has it been?”
    “Almost fifteen years.”
    “Are you kidding me? Jake must have been a toddler. Raising him on your own couldn’t have been easy.”
    “The best things in life never are.”
    “But they are worth it.” Wyatt winced, as if a memory hurt, but he didn’t elaborate. “Why didn’t you remarry?”
    Way too personal, she thought. She didn’t want to let down her guard, even for him. She didn’t want to let any man in. “Maybe you’d like to hear about plans for the new shelter. We’ll be able to double our available beds. Every woman will have a private room for her and her children—“
    “Mariah.” The caring in his voice forced her to look at him. To really look. To remember the good friend he’d been—and boyfriend. When her father died, Wyatt had driven her home from school that day. He’d sat with her while her mom made funeral arrangements, and he’d stayed at her side during the service, a steadfast shoulder to lean on.
    Afterward he’d helped her mom around the house—taking the garbage out, cleaning the gutters, mowing the lawn. Once he’d changed a tire on the family car. Remembering made it possible for Mariah to open up to him—but just a little.
    “It was a hard marriage and a harder divorce.” She took a sip of water. The truth wasn’t easy.
    “I’m sorry it wasn’t better for you.”
    “Lessons learned. I got Jake out of the deal, and that’s what kept me strong. I went back to school, and I made a life for us. We’re happier this way.”
    “You deserve to be happy.” The void that had become Wyatt’s heart ached a little, when nothing had been able to touch him since the funeral and the divorce. “It’s what I’ve always wanted for you.”
    “And I for you.” She set down her glass, her smile nostalgic. “I’m trying to think of what I called you that day in the cafeteria when we had that last fight.”
    “A know-it-all who thought he ruled the world.” It had hurt at the time. “I probably deserved it.”
    “Probably? There was no doubt about it. You assumed everything. What I wanted, what I needed, and that one comment that made so me angry. Let me think. You said, ‘If you take home ec, at least you’ll learn how to cook.’ That drove me insane. It was the last straw.”
    “I was young, what can I say? It sounded chauvinistic, but I meant it in a good way, you know, because you didn’t like your mom’s cooking. You said so yourself. I just adored you so much.” As a tough, rough-and-tumble jock growing up with three brothers, he didn’t have much experience with emotional vulnerability. Taking care of her—and apparently taking charge—was the only way he’d known to show her his feelings. “I meant well, but the practical application of those intentions was faulty.”
    “I’ll say.” Mariah eyed him as if she were a judge debating the veracity of a defendant. “Maybe that’s just the way men are.”
    “Faulty?”
    “Let’s just say I’m better off on my own.”