Christmas at Bravo Ridge. Christine Rimmer

like Judas at the Last Supper. Or maybe Cain stabbing Abel. He offered, “Want some coffee?”

      “Uh, no. Thanks. I just, well, I needed to talk to you.”

      “Anytime. Always.” He led her into the living room and sat next to her on the striped brown and tan couch. He took her hand between both of his. “Now. What’s up?”

      Gently, she pulled her hand free. “I…” God. Where to begin? How to tell this kind, gentle, trusting man that she’d gotten drunk last night and ended up in bed with Matt?

      He touched her hair, one light stroke and then he pulled away. “Corrine. Are you all right?”

      There was no use in stalling. It was cruel enough, what she’d done. This stuttering around over it was only compounding the awfulness.

      She opened her mouth. “I…” And it came out all in a rush, one long ugly word. “IhadsexwithMattlastnight.”

      Bob said nothing. For the longest time he only stared at her, uncomprehending. Finally, he whispered, “No.”

      She bit her lip. Hard. And she nodded. “Yeah. I did. It was…” Excuses tumbled over themselves inside her head. I was drunk. I didn’t know what I was doing. I don’t know how it happened…

      Corrine didn’t say any of them. There was no excuse. She’d done wrong. Way wrong. Period.

      Softly, he prompted, “It was what?”

      She closed her eyes, shook her head. “All my fault. My…decision.”

      A long silence. At last he said, “I see.”

      She shook her head, hard. “No. No, I don’t think you do. You’re a wonderful man. A truly good man. You would never do something like that to me.”

      “Corrine…” His voice trailed off.

      She watched his face, read his expression. He was trying to think of something gentle and wise to say. She spoke first. “It’s not going to work with us, is it, Bob? We’re not right for each other. You need a nicer girl than I’ll ever be. And I need…oh, I’m not sure. But if what I needed was you, I would never have done what I did. I’m only sorry I couldn’t have figured all this out in a more…dignified way.” She took off her engagement ring and set it on the coffee table. And then she left.

      He didn’t try to stop her.

      Outside, she got in her car and just sat for a while, staring blindly out the windshield at the pale blue sky. When she finally got around to starting up the engine and driving away, the dashboard clock said ten after four. She could have called Matt and told him he was off the hook, that she would pick up Kira after all.

      But she didn’t. She went home and made tea. Her mom had always loved a hot cup of tea. Earl Grey had been her mom’s favorite, so Corrine had Earl Grey. She drizzled honey into it, just like Kathleen would have done. And then she sipped it slowly, staring at Kira’s stickfigure drawings taped to the refrigerator, thinking of all the lovely single women at New Life Unification Church who would now get their chance at nice Pastor Bob.

       It was the right thing to do, baby.

      “I know it was, Mom.”

       You’ll get over it.

      Corrine held out her left hand, fingers spread, and stared at her empty ring finger. “I feel totally disgusted with myself. Worst of all, though, I feel relieved.”

      Almost, she could hear her mother’s husky laughter. But only faintly, from far, far away.

      

      Corrine showed up at Matt’s large, pricey house in Alamo Heights at a little after seven.

      “You okay?” he asked at the front door.

      She had time for a nod and a tight smile before Kira came flying in from the other room. “Mommy, where have you been?”

      “Busy, very busy.” Corrine swung her up into her arms. “Big hug?”

      “Yes!” Kira wrapped her arms around Corrine’s neck and squeezed. Corrine squeezed back, reveling in the bubble gum and baby powder scent of her skin and the warmth of her little body so close. But her daughter’s hugs never lasted long enough. Kira craned back, small hands on Corrine’s shoulders. “Daddy gave me s’ghetti.”

      “Yum.” She smoothed Kira’s straight blond hair, kissed her silky cheek.

      “Are we going home now?”

      Corrine let her slide to the floor. “Yes, we are.” She flashed a falsely bright smile in Matt’s direction. “Thanks a bunch.”

      He looked back at her steadily. “I’ll call you.”

      “Unnecessary. Really. Kira, honey. Get your pack and your coat.” Kira skipped off toward the living room, leaving her alone with him again. “Hurry now!” She called.

      Matt said, “Where’s your engagement ring?”

      Corrine resisted the urge to whip her hand out of sight. “I gave it back.”

      He looked kind of stricken. She took more satisfaction than she should have from that. Before he could come up with anything else to say, Kira bounced back in, her Ariel pack sliding down one arm and her white quilted coat with the pink fake-fur accents dragging the floor.

      “Put on that coat,” Matt said gruffly.

      Kira dimpled up at him as she dropped the pack and stuck her arms in the sleeves. “I am, Daddy.” Corrine bent to zip her up, but Kira pushed her hands away. “Mommy. I can do it myself.”

      “Well, all right.” Corrine stood back and made herself wait as Kira’s inexperienced little fingers fiddled with the zipper base, trying to get the tab into the placket. She purposely kept herself from glancing Matt’s way for fear of the look she would see on his face.

      A guilty look. A damn-it-Corrie-I’m-so-sorry look.

      “See.” Kira zipped up and held her arms wide. “I did it myself.”

      “Good job. Let’s go.”

      “’Kay. Bye, Daddy.” She reached up her arms. He knelt and she hugged him and planted a big smacker right on his cheek. “I love you.”

      “Love you, too, sweetheart.”

      And at last, Corrine turned and opened the door again. Kira slid around her and raced for the car, backpack bobbing.

      

      At home, there was bath time and story time and then Corrine tucked her daughter in, kissed her cheek and turned off the light as she left the room.

      She’d barely made it downstairs when the phone started ringing. A glance at the display told her what she already knew: Matt. She let the machine get it.

      “Come on, Corrie. Pick up…I know you’re there and you know you need a friend to talk to. Corrie. Damn it. Corrie, come on.”

      Corrine left the kitchen as he hung up. The dial tone buzzed briefly before the machine clicked itself off. She went to the living room, turned on the fire and grabbed the remote.

      Half an hour later, as she was watching a That ’70s Show rerun and slowly drifting off to sleep, the doorbell rang. She sat up, grabbed the remote and punched the off button.

      What was the matter with that man? Hadn’t she made it crystal clear that she didn’t want to talk about it, especially not with him?

      She got up and stomped to the door in her stocking feet. As she disengaged the security lock and yanked it wide, she opened her mouth to tell him in no uncertain terms that she really, truly did not want to talk about it and would he please just go home.

      But it wasn’t Matt after all.

      Corrine snapped her