Double Play

Drew’s Story

Eva Charles

Quarry Road Publishing

Double Play

Copyright © 2016 by Eva Charles and Quarry Road Publishing

Originally published as Petite Madeleine

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form whatsoever without express written permission from the author or publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles and reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. All other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Cover by Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations

Faith Freewoman, Editor

For more information, contact

evacharlesauthor@gmail.com

Created with VellumCreated with Vellum

To survivors, and to those who love them, Saude!

We don’t receive wisdom; we must discover it for ourselves after a journey that no one can take for us or spare us.

Marcel proust

Contents

Family Tree

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

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Family Tree

Angelina DaSilva married Guilherme Sousa (d) and they had two daughters:

Maria Liliana (Mary) (d)

Maria Margarida (Margaret, Maggie) (d)

Mary married Samuel Clayton (d) and they had five daughters:

Maria Sophia (Sophie) + Max Parker = Liliana Clayton Parker (Sheltered Heart)

Maria Natalia (Talia)

Maria Isabella (Ella)

Maria Helena (Lainey)

Maria Juliana (Ana)

Maggie married Nicholas Harrington (d) and together they had six sons:

Cole + Alexa Petersen (Noble Pursuit)

William (Will)

Mark

Andrew (Drew)

Jacob (Jake)

Luke

1

Drew Harrington wandered around Fort McHenry searching for inspiration. Why not? Francis Scott Key had found his there. And after last night’s baseball game, God knows he could use some. That along with an ace pitcher and a few hot bats.

As the general manager of the Boston Blues, the buck stopped with him. The good, the bad, and the ugly, and last night had been butt-ugly. Crying the Blues was the headline in the Boston paper, in bold black letters plastered above the masthead, a space normally reserved for reporting the death of a sitting president or a devastating stock market crash. But it was Beantown after all, a city that prided itself on the success of its sports teams.

The local sportswriters had a field day writing his obituary yet again. It didn’t matter one bit that it was the season opener. They were a ruthless bunch, and their mantra was “what have you done for me lately?” Fortunately, the team was on the road, and that helped shield his young players from the worst of the harsh hometown critics.

It was a soupy eighty-seven degrees in Baltimore when he made his way out of the Fort. By the time he reached the main road, the thick, stale air had sapped every lick of energy. It was only the beginning of April, but it felt more like the dog days of summer. He’d run down this road yesterday, and noticed a bakery just up ahead. Another half block and he arrived on the doorstep with his shirt clinging to his back.

Ahhh, air conditioning! A blast of cool air hit him when he opened the door to Lola’s, a cute little place with a handful of tables and a showcase full of mouthwatering goodies. Bite-sized éclairs, ginger scones, lemon squares … and madeleines. His heart clenched, and he swallowed the large lump forming in his throat before it completely blocked the airway.

Some called madeleines cookies, others, miniature cakes. He rarely saw them outside of Starbucks, triplets wrapped in tidy cellophane packages, piled carelessly in front of the cash register.

They resembled Cassie’s cakes, with their elongated shape and honey-blond hue, but he knew they wouldn’t taste the same. The rich, buttery texture that had melted on his tongue and seeped into his soul belonged only to Cassie.

It was impossible to separate her from the tiny sponge cakes, and every time he saw one, it tore at him, leaving him raw and edgy, jonesing to storm through the city swinging a smooth ash stick, whacking at everything in his path. He’d all but sworn off Starbucks, because these days he couldn’t afford even half an hour spent licking his wounds—self-inflicted wounds.

“May I help you?” asked the fresh-faced clerk in a bright green and white striped apron. Her ponytail bobbed behind her when she tilted her head to give him a flirty smile—one without the slightest hint of recognition. What a relief to be somewhere where he could blend into the woodwork, especially after last night’s fiasco.

He studied the large chalkboard hanging on the wall behind the register, idly admiring its gilded frame. It described a wide range of offerings, iced and hot, but his needs were simple.

“A large iced tea to go, please. Plenty of ice. The house blend is fine.”

“Something to eat with your tea today?”

He gazed longingly at the case. Expertly-shaped pastries lounged on silver pedestals enclosed in a counter-height antique glass case, the kind where a society maven might have displayed her treasures a century ago. Jam-filled cookies, one-bite pecan tarts, and heart-shaped fudge brownies dusted with white powder. They were tantalizing, but nothing tempted him as much as the shell-shaped cakes, food for mermaids, the ones Proust made famous, and Cassie perfected.

“We make everything in-house,” the young woman gushed.

“It all looks great, but I think I’ll pass. These last few days, I’ve been enjoying too much of what the city has to offer.” He patted his stomach and grinned. “Next time.”

After handing him his tea, she began to ring up the purchase.

He reached for his wallet, struggling to ignore the allure of the pastry case. But the madeleines were beckoning, crooning softly, daring him to take a taste.

Just one little taste.

He knew better. He’d played this game before, and it never ended well. But he couldn’t help himself. “Sorry to do this, but those madeleines are calling to me. Would you mind throwing a couple in a bag to go?”

“I’d be happy to. They’re seductive little creatures, awfully hard to resist.”

Don’t have to tell me. He paid the clerk, shoved a bill into the Mason jar on the counter, and took a big swig of tea before sticking his hand into the white bag.

And one bite, that’s all it took to whisk him back to another time, to another medium-sized East Coast city, where life had been full of promise. It’s all it took for the anger to swirl with the pain until they were almost unrecognizable as separate emotions. He couldn’t bear it, and dumped the bag along with its contents in the trashcan near the exit.

“Lindsey, I’m going to run over to the bank. Do you need anything while I’m out?”

His knees buckled when he heard the sweet, familiar voice, and thankfully one hand was on the doorknob to steady him, otherwise he’d have landed in a heap on the cold floor.

The blood pounded in his ears, and, for what seemed like an eternity, everything was a blur. He wanted to swing himself around, he wanted it so badly, but like a man who’d just experienced a stroke, his brain couldn’t will his body to do its bidding. When everything was finally firing properly again, he turned, and stood frozen, still propped up by the door, not fifteen feet away from her. Eventually she looked in his direction, and her golden skin paled.

“Drew.”

He couldn’t hear the word, she’d spoken it so softly, but he read her lips, and he knew just how her voice sounded when she said his name. In bed between giggles when he tickled her, on the way to the library while they debated economic theories, or in his ear as they danced pressed against each other at Fish Co., the bar Brown students patronized on Wednesday nights.

He’d heard her moan it, whisper it, say it in prayer while they explored each other endlessly, making love in every imaginable place and in every imaginable position. No, he didn’t need to actually hear her say it. The sound was forever etched on his soul.

“Cassie.”

Her name tumbled easily off his tongue, but it had been so long since he’d said it out loud it sounded foreign to his ears. Not a day, not a single day had gone by that he hadn’t thought about her. There was always something to remind him, to torment him. Something delicate and sweet—something smart and beautiful—something so Cassie.

For well over a decade, she’d occupied a place in his heart, prime real estate, and no matter what he did, how much he tried, he couldn’t evict her. He just couldn’t.

He’d unwittingly pushed her out of his life, but there was no way he’d ever give her up completely. Not for anyone, not for anything, not even to save his sanity. No damn way.

He inched closer to the counter near where she still gripped the door, her white-knuckled hand trembling.

“It’s been a long time,” she said softly, so softly he wasn’t certain whether he’d actually heard it, or if he was lip-reading again.

“Too long.” Overcome with emotion, he could barely string together the few words it took to form a coherent sentence. “Sit with me?” It was more of a plea than a request.

She hesitated, and for a moment or two he wasn’t sure she was still breathing. And while the clock ticked on, he forced himself to breathe, too.

“I don’t have much time, I’ve got an errand to run,” she finally answered, before turning to say something to the clerk behind the counter that he couldn’t hear. And then she led him to a small table by a bay window.

“It’s been a long time,” she repeated, tucking a long, dark lock behind one ear.

The air surrounding her was charged, and he half expected her to begin to hum under her breath. It’s what she did when she was nervous.

“I’d have recognized you anywhere, Cassie. You look exactly the same, and I bet if I leaned across the table, your hair, your skin, they’d smell like almonds and honey.”

She looked like she was about to bolt from the table. Christ! What was he thinking, blurting out the unfiltered thoughts swimming in his head? But the waitress saved the day, setting down another glass of cold tea for him, and a small pot for her, along with an array of treats that looked almost too good to eat.

“You made the madeleines?” He asked the question, though he already knew the answer, but it was far safer than indulging the foolishness whirling in his head.

She nodded with cheeks still devoid of color, and eyes glazed over.

“I knew as soon as I took a bite. Like Proust’s narrator, I was transported back to another time.” A happier time.

She gave him a small, guarded smile, and he felt his brow crinkle. It was unlike her to be so reserved. Normally, she gave away warm, generous smiles to everyone, friends and strangers alike. At least she always had.

“I think you have a lot to fill me in on. How did the woman groomed to take over her father’s Wall Street firm end up baking Proust’s cakes in Baltimore?”

“It’s a long story. A very long story. We don’t have enough time to cover all the sordid details.”

“Why don’t you begin now, and you can finish over dinner.”

“It’s been ten years. Just shy of forever. I don’t think dinner is the direction we should be heading in.”

No, it’s not, but it’s a start.

He could feel her slipping away, and small talk was the straw he desperately grasped at to buy him some time before she disappeared again. “Did you bake everything in the case?”

“I did.” She smiled modestly, but a glimmer of pride shone in her eyes. “I’ve been going it alone, but I just hired another baker so I can take some time off here and there. It’ll be nice to get out of the city a bit over the summer.”

“You own the shop?”

She nodded, pouring herself some tea.

“Earl Grey?” he asked.

“Yes.” It was an audible gasp, accompanied by a small shudder that caused a few drops to land in the saucer.

“With local honey, if you have it,” he said. Her face softened, and her eyes glistened like morning dew on exotic blooms. “I remember everything, Cassie. Everything.”

“Drew,” she cautioned.

He started to say that he remembered every single thing she loved. Everything she hated. The joys that made her face glow, and the sorrows that turned her chocolate brown eyes into washed-out pools. He hadn’t forgotten a thing. Not a damn thing. But it wasn’t true. He’d conveniently forgotten she was married—wiped the bitter memory clean away.

His heart stopped when the jumbotron at Yankee stadium popped up on a mental screen. It had been years, but the picture that played in his mind was vivid.

She said yes! Accompanied by an image of Cassie, his Cassie, with some jackass. The crowd roaring, chanting kiss, kiss, kiss, and then right there, in front of everyone, in front of him, she let the jackass put his lips on hers. Apparently they’d become engaged the day before. At first, the sweat streamed down the back of his neck, and he wanted nothing more than to hunt the guy down and gut him. Tear him limb from limb, watch him die a slow, agonizing death, but the bile rose in his throat, so instead he raced to the men’s room, where he emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet. He’d been back to that stadium dozens of times since, but he’d never once, not once, looked up at the jumbotron.

“Any kids?” he asked, attacking his tea with the long-handled spoon, pushing the ugly memory aside.

“Kids? No, you?”

“Uh, no. I just thought that since you’re married … maybe … you’d always wanted a bunch of kids,” he stammered, like the idiot he was.

“I’m not married.”

“I was at Yankee Stadium the day it was plastered on the big screen. You and … and … some guy. I didn’t imagine that.” No, he hadn’t imagined his heart ruthlessly yanked out of his chest. It was in the running for the worst day of his life, which was quite an accomplishment, given the competition.

“We were engaged, but we never got married.”

“I’m sorry.” He said it because it was expected, but he wasn’t sorry, not one bit sorry. Well, he was sorry if she’d been hurt. Maybe. He felt like a heel, but his heart was thumping wildly, and he was struggling to fight off the shit-eating grin threatening to set up shop on his face.

“Some things aren't meant to be,” she said, staring intently into the teacup, as if she might learn her fate from the few leaves that had settled at the bottom.

“How are your parents?” He quickly steered the conversation away from some things aren’t meant to be. A remark that seemed as much for him as for Mr. Jackass.

“They’re doing great. My dad sold the firm, and they still keep a small place in New York, but they spend most of their time between Miami and Greece now.”

She visibly relaxed when he changed the subject, and was able to meet his eyes, again. “Your grandparents?”

“Yia-yia and Pappouli,” she smiled. “Happy, stubborn, and in their nineties now. Tell me about your family. How are those gorgeous brothers of yours?”

“I thought I was the gorgeous one.”

“The most gorgeous,” she said, before her smile faded. She’d allowed herself to be lulled into an easy banter. Back to the way things used to be, but clearly not where she wanted to be anymore.

“My brothers are doing well. Mark and Luke are lawyers, one in private practice, and the other works for the government. I’ll let you guess who does what,” he smiled. “Jake’s the stud quarterback for the Hawks, Will was elected to my dad’s old senate seat, and—hang on to your hat—Cole’s getting married.”

“No!”

He nodded, grinning. “Yup.”

“Cole Harrington married. I bet there are women weeping all over Boston.”

He laughed. “Her name is Alexa. She’s perfect for him, stole his heart when he wasn’t looking. Poor bastard, he’s totally whipped.”

“I’m so happy for him! How about Vovó and the Clayton girls?”

“My grandmother had bypass surgery in the fall, but she’s doing great now, stronger than ever. Sophie had a baby last summer. Her name is Lily,” he said with a soft smile, thinking about his adorable little niece.

“I bet Sophie’s an incredible mom.”

He nodded. “My cousins are all doing great. Little Juliana is about to become a lawyer. But enough about them, I want to hear all about you.”

“There’s not much to tell. I’ve never been a very exciting woman.”

“I don’t remember it quite like that.”

She looked away again, and he knew she was remembering, just like he’d been remembering. Thousands of memories flooding the circuits, making it difficult to think straight, difficult to even breathe.

“The bakery’s my baby. It takes up all my time and then some. I’m hoping one day to turn it into a tearoom, a real tearoom, but I’ll need to find a bigger space. For now,” she smiled, “it’s perfect for me.”

“Lola’s. Where’d you come up with the name?”

“It just seemed right.”

He nodded. “I ran by here yesterday morning, and the line was out the door.”

She beamed, and the gold flecks in her eyes shimmered. “We won a baking contest that came with some publicity, and the place has been packed ever since.”

“An award?”

She shrugged. “What’s that thing Reece always says? ‘There’s no accounting for taste,’” she said, summoning her haughtiest British accent. The pretentious one her friend Reece used with abandon, to add some bite, or to emphasize the ridiculous and the absurd.

“Reece.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Do you still keep in touch with her?”

“Mm-hm. We talk almost every day. She’s having a torrid affair with an Aussie sailor. It might be serious. He’s an irreverent daredevil—it’s a match made in heaven.”

“How about you, anyone special in your life?” He tried to sound casual, while bracing himself for bad news.

“There are lots of special people in my life, but I’m not dating anyone right now.”

I’m not dating anyone right now. He quietly let out a long, steady stream of air. There was a glimmer of hope, something to hang on to.

“So how does it feel to be the youngest general manager in all of sports?”

“You follow Boston sports?”

“Of course not,” she scoffed making his lips curl. “But I read the newspaper. It was in all the papers.”

“That title’s no longer mine. You know how it is, turn around and some young whippersnapper comes along and steals it right out from under you. Drew Harrington, the youngest GM in all of sports. Let’s grab a cold one and sit back, see how long it’ll take him to wet his pants and destroy the team,” he chuckled. “I was only too happy to give up that particular title.”

“A lot of pressure.”

He shrugged. “I love my job. What could make a guy happier than working for the team you followed your whole life? I got lucky. After I emerged from the black hole I’d climbed into, I took a job with the Blues’ grounds crew. It was exactly what I needed, demanding physical labor around a place and a game I loved. It gave me time to get some badly needed help, and finish school.”

“Where did you finish?”

“Harvard.”

“Slumming?”

He threw his head back and laughed. “Spoken like a true Brown alum.”

“Forever true.”

“Cass … you saved me. I was in a downward spiral straight into hell. I’ve never had a chance to thank you. Although I’m not sure how you can ever thank someone for saving your life.”

“I didn’t do anything.” She shook her head. “I tried, but nothing I did seemed to help.”

“You were twenty—barely—and you had your head on straight enough to ask for help. I was so broken, there’s no way you could have fixed me.”

She took a deep breath, and on exhale her entire body seemed to relax. “I’m so glad it turned out well.”

“Mostly well. But I lost something valuable, priceless, along the way.” He found her eyes and held on for dear life, until she cut the tether.

“It was great to see you, and I’ve enjoyed catching up, but I’ve got to get to the bank before it closes.”

“I’ve got to get back to the ballpark, too, before they think I’ve been abducted by an overzealous Orioles’ fan.”

He brushed his finger over the top of her hand. “Have dinner with me tonight. I feel like we hit on just a few of the high notes. There’s so much more left to say.”

“I’m up before dawn to bake, so I don’t normally go out during the week.”

“I’ll even go somewhere that serves stuffed zucchini blossoms. Come on, how can you resist watching me eat delicate flowers? I’m sitting here shriveling just talking about it. You can take a picture of me munching on one, and send it to my brothers.”

The corners of her mouth curled up softly, but the sad, faraway look in her eyes told a different story. “Call me after the game. Let’s see how late it is and…”

He didn’t bother to wait until she finished before pulling out his phone. “What’s your number?”

She surprised him by taking the phone from his hand and punching in the security code. He couldn’t believe he’d allowed her to take it from him, just like that. The phone held all his secrets, but more importantly, it held all the team’s. He never let anyone touch it.

“You remember my password?”

“Who could forget the date you hit your first home run? It was a grand slam. Your coach even let you get sprinkles on your ice cream cone after the game.”

His heart swelled.

She handed him back his phone. “Drew, if we have dinner, it’s just dinner, okay?”

No, it’s not okay with me, but I don’t think I’ve got a damn choice. “Of course.”

“Good luck tonight.”

He should have invited her to the game. They could have gone to dinner right from the ballpark. Now she had some wiggle room, an opportunity to blow him off. He pushed the thought out of his head, and walked the rest of the way to Camden Yards with a bounce in his step.

Cassie. He’d found Cassie, and she wasn’t wearing a ring.

2

When she woke up this morning, Drew Harrington was the very last person on earth she expected to run into. The fantasies she’d harbored for years about casually bumping into him had petered out long ago. Well, maybe not long ago, but it had certainly been awhile.

She’d followed his career in the papers, and his personal life in the tabloids, grateful for any tidbit. It was pathetic, but at least she’d stopped googling him daily.

Her heart had brimmed with pride the day he was hired as the Blues’ general manager. She imagined him bursting with joy, his deep blue eyes bright and sparkling while he met the Boston press corps. An impossible grin, too big to wipe off his face, and that gorgeous dimple in the left corner of his mouth, getting deeper by the second. The one she’d dipped her tongue in, time and time again.

Even his harshest critics gushed about his talents that day. The whizz kid who always had a baseball in hand, a pair of drumsticks tucked behind one ear, and a beautiful woman on his arm.

There’d been a time, long, long ago, in a city not so far away, where he’d been happy to have her, only her, on his arm. But that was before his parents died, before he stopped going to class and became best friends with a bong. Before she’d found him passed out, facedown in vomit, and called his cousin Sophie. Before he left Brown…

And before her life as a sheltered princess took a wrong turn off Fairy Tale Boulevard and veered onto Hard Knocks Drive with all its bumps and bruises. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Some days, it seemed so distant, so alien, like it must have been someone else’s charmed life.

One day she was at his house enjoying dinner with his family and playing in the pool, and a few days later she stood sandwiched between her parents at the funeral home, waiting to pay their respects. Four caskets lined up at the front of the enormous parlor, holding the remains of Senator and Mrs. Harrington, and Ambassador and Mrs. Clayton. Avó Angelina clasping a rosary in one hand and an embroidered handkerchief in the other. Both Angelina’s daughters and their husbands, gone from this world. The parents to her eleven grandchildren, who stood shoulder to shoulder at her side.

When she reached Drew, there was barely a flicker of recognition in his eyes. His arms went around her like a robot, stiff and automatic. He nodded and said thank you for coming, like she was a distant acquaintance, rather than the woman who had shared herself intimately with him for nearly three years.

She sat between her parents for hours while a never-ending sea of mourners passed through the line. Sophie standing near her grandmother, translating and making introductions, often comforting rather than being comforted. Cole stood next to her, and the others in a line by birth order.

The boys in charcoal suits with pressed white shirts and somber ties. The girls in simple black dresses with tearstained faces devoid of makeup. The only color was the red that rimmed their sunken eyes.

The difference between the cousins was that the girls hugged with their entire beings, and allowed themselves the comfort of tears, while the boys stood stiff, empty carcasses with hollow eyes, like zombies inhabiting a horror movie.

No one stood more stiffly than Drew. Normally personable and engaging, he looked through every person who offered condolences, and repeated the same phrase again and again, thank you for coming.

The wake began at two in the afternoon, and at eight o’clock that evening, when her parents dragged her from the room, there was still a line out the door and a long queue of cars waiting to enter the parking lot.

“He looks awful,” she said to her mother on the way to the car. “I’ve never seen him like that. He barely acknowledged me. I expected him to be sad, maybe even angry. But he looked empty. Like all the life’s been sucked from his body.”

“I don’t think he’s gotten to anger yet, Cassia. I think he’s lost. Sometimes the brain shuts itself off because the pain is too much to bear. He needs some time.”

He barely acknowledged me. Funny she’d thought of herself in his darkest hour, because when disaster fell at her doorstep, the last thing she considered was herself.

She took a slow, deep breath, letting her fingers graze her left breast. There would be no dinner tonight. Not with him. Tempting as it was, she wouldn’t go there. Couldn’t go there. The look of horror on his face when he heard her story would be too much for her soul to bear. His strong features twisted and contorted, not knowing what to say to her. No one ever knew what to say.

She wanted him to remember her the way she’d been when he held her in his arms after loving her—whole and unscarred.

* * *

“Hey, it’s me,” he said into the phone.

“Sorry about the game.”

“You’re probably an Orioles’ fan,” he muttered.

“Yankees, still, always. My loyalty doesn’t waver, but I am partial to any team who puts them in a better playoff position.”

“Well that certainly describes the Blues tonight,” he groaned. “How about some dinner?”

“It’s late. I can’t tonight.”

“It would certainly improve my mood. It’s the least you can do after we put your team in a better position to play into October.”

“You don’t fool me. It’s the first week of the season, far too early to know who’ll still be playing in the fall. You’re not too down to go out?”

While the Orioles whacked one ball after another off the Blues’ young pitcher, it had barely registered with him. All he could think about was Cassie. There would be plenty of time tomorrow to think about tonight’s shellacking. “Didn’t you just say it’s early in the season? How about dinner?”

“It’s too late for me tonight. Maybe next time the Blues are in town.”

“That won’t be until the middle of the summer. I can’t wait that long, Cassie. And anyway, you’ll hate it.”

“I’ll hate it?”

“Yup, because I have your phone number now, and I’ll pester you until I drive you crazy.”

She didn’t answer right away, and he expected her to turn him down. He was already preparing to plead his case, when she surprised him. “Tomorrow, the game’s earlier. It won’t end quite so late.”

His spirits soared. “Crabs and blueberry pie on Fenwick Island?”

“Nope. Zucchini blossoms. I know just the place.”

He chuckled. She was having dinner with him, that’s all that mattered. Those zucchini blossoms could be stuffed with gizzards for all he cared.

* * *

When the team was on the road, Drew spent a lot of time in hotel rooms. It had never bothered him. He fell into bed exhausted from traveling, and the long days and nights at the ballpark. Sleep usually came quickly. But tonight the bed was too hard, and the room was too hot for sleep. Cassie was just across town, yet he missed her more than ever. She’d looked like an angel today, a gift from the gods.

When he finally drifted off, he was sitting in his freshman seminar at Brown, Greek Mythology, gawking at the hot brunette walking toward him wearing a bright pink tank top and a little skirt that swished against her thighs. She had on flip-flops, and her shiny, painted toenails matched her shirt and made his blood flow south. Pulling his gaze up, he followed the skinny straps from her otherwise bare shoulders to where her nipples strained under the stretchy pink fabric. The whisper-thin straps made no pretense that she was wearing a bra. From the way his body was reacting, hot pink might just be his new favorite color.

“Is anyone sitting here?” she asked, gesturing to the seat near him.

“No,” he choked out, coughing to clear the frog that had settled in his throat. Completely tongue-tied, but wanting desperately to talk to her, he channeled his older brothers, and leaned coolly back in the chair with his legs stretched well beyond the desk. “What’s in the box?”

“Cupcakes.”

“Cupcakes?” Damn. The seminar was a class, but it was also their freshman advisory. Or, as his brother Mark referred to it, a support group for dorks who don’t have a clue about life away from Mommy and Daddy. Hmmm, was he was supposed to have brought food today? Had he already blown the first assignment?

“It’s my birthday. I made cupcakes,” she said, as though she could read his mind.

Her voice was lyrical, without a hint of guile. And he wondered if she was two French fries short of a Happy Meal, bringing cupcakes to class on her birthday like a second grader, or if she just had big balls and didn’t care what people thought of her. By the time class ended that afternoon, he didn’t really care which it was. She was hands down the most incredible creature he’d ever set eyes on, and he wanted to know her better.

There were a dozen students in the advisory group that afternoon, and the professor asked each one to introduce themselves. She went first.

“I’m Cassia Anteros, but almost everyone calls me Cassie. I’m from New York, but I live in Keeney now. Today’s my birthday,’’ she smiled, “and I brought cupcakes and iced tea to share. I hope you’ll help me celebrate.”

“Anteros. The god of unrequited love. Cupid’s brother and the son of Aphrodite and Ares. By all means, Cassie, let’s have your cupcakes. And tea,” Professor Stamoulis said with a twinkle in his eyes.

Everyone in the group was mesmerized by her. The guys because she was hot and brought food, and the girls because she was genuinely nice and didn’t flirt. She acted like she didn’t know she was beautiful, handing out iced tea and cupcakes, serving them like she was a mere mortal instead of a descendant of the gods.

The cupcakes were frosted with pale lavender icing, and decorated with white and purple sprinkles. They were big, chocolate treats with a fudgy center that melted on his tongue.

It was just what everyone needed after the excesses of a long orientation week. Although they’d be loath to admit it, they were all a little homesick, and tired of the responsibilities that came with free-flowing alcohol, and unsupervised nights filled with the unrelenting pressure to have a fresh, warm body in their bed every night, or to be that fresh warm body. The cupcakes made them feel like carefree kids again, and they had Cassie and her quiet confidence to thank for the welcome reprieve.

He hung around after class, pretending to help her clean up, hoping she might throw him a crumb or two, but she didn’t, and he was too unsure of himself to take the initiative.

The next day, when he strolled into freshman English, she was there. It was turning out to be his week. No cupcakes, but a different kind of treat: her lean, tanned legs in white denim shorts that hugged her tight, round ass. She smiled up at him through long, dark lashes while he slid into the empty seat beside her.

And their friendship began.

The first assignment in English class was to choose a critique partner for the semester. “Want to work together?” she asked when they left the building after class.

“Sure.” He tried to appear smooth, not too interested. After watching his three older brothers do it hundreds of times, he knew just how to pull off that cool external façade. But inside, his heart was tap dancing on his chest wall.

The final assignment of the semester had been to take a scene from a novel they’d studied in class, write a paper, and accompany it with some creative element. They chose In Search of Lost Time, and their creative piece would be to recreate Proust’s miniature cakes. To make the petite madeleines so tasty, so memorable, that everyone who ate them would be left with a lasting impression on their subconscious.

It was her idea, and he’d readily agreed—what could be bad about cake? Problem was, he didn’t know a pot from a pan.

Fortunately, she loved to bake, so she made the madeleines, and he carried the ingredients from the grocery store, washed dishes, and eagerly sampled every new batch.

One evening, while he was sprawled on the counter of her dorm kitchen, studying for an economics exam, she cried, “I think this is it!” Her excitement woke him from the boring theory he’d been trying to make sense of. And when she leaned over the counter to offer him a taste, he grabbed her wrist and pushed it away, tasting her instead. The kiss had been more than three months in coming, long, long overdue.

He fed on her, gently at first, but when she parted her lips for him, he dragged her up on the counter, where they explored every crevice of each other’s mouths until the resident assistant interrupted them.

“Hey, what are you two doing?” she chastised. “That’s unsanitary! This is a communal kitchen. Take it somewhere else.”

And they did.

She gave him her virginity that night, in a bed that smelled of almonds and honey. He hadn’t had all that much experience either, but he tried to make it special for her.

He had five female cousins who’d grown up next door, whose virtue he and his brothers protected with their very lives, so he fully understood the gift she freely gave him, and did his best to be worthy of it.

The alarm blared, jolting him out of his favorite dream. He was foggy, with a raging hard-on begging for attention. Stretching his arms toward the ceiling, he wondered for a minute if seeing her at the bakery yesterday had all been part of the dream. He shook his head. It had been real, and she looked exactly like she had the last time he saw her. Maybe her hair was a little shorter, and her breasts a little rounder, but otherwise the same.

Thinking about her breasts did nothing to appease his erection, and he shifted uncomfortably under the covers. The shower, he needed to get in the shower.

3

The Blues won handily, giving him a reprieve from the stinging barbs the Boston press had been firing at him all week. The team had done its job, and now it was up to him to do his—to win Cassie back.

He shoved the phone back in his pocket. She’d insisted on meeting at the restaurant, and now he was pacing on the sidewalk out front, checking his phone every two minutes, for the time, or for a message cancelling their date. His breath hitched when he spied her rushing around the corner, dark hair sailing behind her, caught in a passing breeze.

“Sorry, I’m late. I had trouble finding parking.”

“You’re here now, that’s all that matters,” he said leaning over to place a kiss on her cheek. She stiffened in response, grimacing when his lips touched her skin, leaving him cold despite the sweltering temperature.

The hostess led them to a cozy table in a quiet corner of the restaurant.

“Nice place. How’s the food?”

“Amazing.”

“They serve anything besides zucchini blossoms?” he teased before opening one of the menus the hostess had left with them.

“The paella is to die for, you’ll love it. But you are trying the zucchini. I brought my camera,” she added in a sassy voice that made him want to leap across the table and claim her mouth.

But instead, they busied themselves behind menus, commenting on the offerings, hiding from the raw emotion, and avoiding the sparks of crackling energy laden with nerves, anticipation and fear. Neither looked up until the waiter approached the table.

“Good evening, and welcome to Uma. May I get you something to drink while you’re deciding on dinner? An aperitif, perhaps? You’ll find a complete list of offerings at the beginning of the beverage menu.”

“I’ll just have seltzer with an orange slice, please,” she said.

“A beer for me. What do you have on tap?”

“I’d recommend the Heavy Seas. It’s a local brew, very popular.”

“Perfect, thanks.”

“I’ll give you a little more time with the menu,” the waiter said before walking away.

“You don’t drink anymore, or are you keeping your wits about you? I know how irresistible I am.”

“You are adorable,” she said, unfolding the napkin onto her lap. “I drink, but rarely, maybe a glass of champagne on New Year’s Eve, and another on my birthday. Although I don’t have any hard and fast rules about it.”

“Adorable, but not irresistible, huh?”

She shook her head, and the corners of her mouth lifted slightly. “Still drinking?”

“I only drink to celebrate now, never to forget.” He fingered her charm bracelet. Aphrodite was almost indistinguishable from the other trinkets dangling from the gold links around her wrist. It pained him to see her there.

He’d given Cassie the charm for her birthday, the first year they were together. He thought she would put it on her bracelet, but instead, she’d taken a thin gold chain from a wooden box on her dresser and placed the goddess of love on it. “Not on my wrist, I want her near my heart.” And it had hung from the delicate chain, nestled between her breasts, always. When they showered, made love, or trudged through the snow on a blustery day, it had always rested near her heart. She never took it off.

“It’s part of my life story,” she offered, while his thumb caressed the gold charm.

He should be grateful she hadn’t just tossed it in the trash or had it melted down for scrap. “I tried to find you after I finally got my act together. But you’d changed your number and your email address. Was that to avoid me?”

“I was starting a job, and it came with a new phone and e-mail address.” Her shoulders slumped, as if weighed down by the past. “I thought if I changed all my contact information, you wouldn’t know how to reach me, and I could stop thinking you’d get in touch. I changed them, not only because of you—but it was a bonus.”

He winced. And although the dagger she’d flung carried no malice, the gash it left was deep and painful.

“Cassie, I’m so sorry about the way it ended between us. So sorry it took me such a long time to get in touch with you. It took me much longer to pull myself together than I’d expected. But I tried to reach you as soon as I had my feet on the ground again. I called Reece, went by your parents’ apartment, sent letters.”

“I know,” she murmured.

“It was excruciating. I couldn’t accept that you wouldn’t see me. That you didn’t want to see me … And then you got engaged.”

“You told me not to wait for you. I figured it was your way of moving on.”

He’d sent her the note about a month after he left Brown. Don’t wait for me. I’ll find you when my head’s on straight, he’d written. But he’d been really screwed up, and it had taken the better part of a year before he could face her again.

He studied her from across the table. Something wasn’t quite right. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something else she wasn’t saying.

“You had a lot to deal with,” she said softly.

“And I dealt with it like an immature little boy.”

“Have they written the definitive book on how to handle the sudden death of one’s parents? I haven’t heard about it.”

“Well I certainly could write the book on what not to do. A tome.”

“You lived through a catastrophe no one should have to experience in their lifetime, and coped in the best way a twenty-one-year-old kid could cope. I never blamed you for that.”

“But you pitied me. I saw it in your eyes, every time I looked at you. But I can’t blame you, I was pitiful.”

“My heart broke for you, but I never pitied you.”

The waiter set out a pan of paella between them to share. Drew used a small fork to lift the meat from a hinged shell and brought it to her hungry mouth.

“Mmmm. So good. I love littlenecks.”

“I know.”

She sat back in her chair. “Drew…”

“I told you, Cassie, there’s not a thing I don’t remember. The way your eyelashes flutter when you’re dreaming, the briny taste of your skin after you’ve been in the ocean, the soft mewling sounds you make when I kiss your neck where it meets your shoulder. Right here.” With two fingers he brushed the very spot, with a light, feathery sweep that made her shudder.

He was moving too fast, careening out of control, but he couldn’t rein in his emotional response to her, any more than he could rein in his body’s response. So he forced himself onto flatter terrain, before she ran from the restaurant. “Tell me about the trip from Wall Street to Baltimore.”

“It’s a long story, but I’ll give you the condensed version. I was working for my father, and the more money I made for the firm, the less happy I became. I was essentially stuck in an office using the part of my brain that didn’t give me any pleasure.”

His chest rumbled when she said the word pleasure, and he picked up his fork to busy his fingers.

“I’ve always loved to bake, and feed people sweets that make them happy. One day, when I couldn’t take it for one more second, I went to my father and bared my soul.”

“How’d he take it?”

“Like a champ. It wasn’t a surprise to him. He sat on the edge of his desk, listening to every word, giving me his full attention. ‘Cassia,’ he said, ‘I was wondering when you’d come to me. You’ve been so miserable, and all I want is for you to be happy.’

“I told him I wanted to go to France and study under a pastry chef, and he nodded. ‘But first go to Greece,’ he said, ‘sit by the ocean and let the Mediterranean sun heal you. Let your grandparents dote on their only granddaughter, and ask your grandmother to teach you how to make baklava. Then, when you come back, you’ll make some for your papa.’ And that was the end of it. He loved the business he’d built, and he hoped I would too, but he didn’t expect me to exchange my dreams for his.”

“I’m not surprised, given how much your parents love you. You were always the center of their universe.”

She shivered, and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “Just a passing chill.” she said when he noticed, and then swiftly changed the subject. “Can you believe Jay’s getting married?” Jay had been his college roommate, and apart from Cassie, his closest friend at Brown.

He scoffed, and shook his head, smirking. “I never would have pegged her as his type.”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. She’s so different from the girls he hooked up with at Brown. Have you met her?”

“They were in town a few months ago, and we had dinner. She’s lovely, and they seem very happy together. People grow up, their tastes change.” She shrugged.

“Not mine,” he said locking his eyes with hers until she looked away. “He’s a great guy. I owe him a call. I sent back the response card from the invitation, but I want to get in touch with him before the wedding.”

“You’re going to the wedding?”

He looked at her over his water glass. “You asked that like you somehow knew already that I wasn’t going.”

“Well…”

“Well what, Cass?” he asked in a low voice, with a tone that indicated he expected an answer.

“When I received the invitation, I … I wasn’t going to go. I … I … didn’t want to go if … and Reece called Jay, and he said you wouldn’t … be there,” her voice trailed off.

The base of his glass met the table firmly. “Jesus, Cassie, you hate me so much that running into me at a wedding creates a major problem for you?”

“I don’t hate you. I never hated you. Ever. But I didn’t see any reason for our paths to cross again after so many years. To put ourselves, or anyone else, in an awkward position.”

“We need to talk, get it all out on the table. Every bad feeling, every disappointment, all the crap. It’s the only way we’ll ever be able to move forward and build … some type of relationship.”

“I’ve enjoyed catching up, Drew, but I’m not looking for a relationship with you.”

His stomach knotted, and he bit down hard on the edge of his index finger.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“It’s okay, I can take it. Probably deserve it.”

“It’s just that it’s been so long, I don’t have those feelings anymore.”

She didn’t meet his eyes when she spoke. Instead, she looked down and swallowed hard, digging her fingernails into the palm of her hand. It was a good thing she rarely lied, because she sucked at it.

Although she was blinking back tears, there was no way he was letting her off the hook. He leaned across the table. “You’re lying, sweetheart. Or kidding yourself. When you let your guard down, when you forget to hold up the damn wall, it’s like old times between us. Like not a day has passed. I can see it in your face, Cass, in your eyes. And I can feel it in my bones. You wouldn’t be here with me if you didn’t want a relationship, too.”

“That’s not why I came.”

“Isn’t it?”

“It’s unrealistic to think we can just start over.”

“I don’t want to start over. I want to continue where we left off. I want to work through the problems we had at the end, and put them behind us.”

They both sat back and took a deep breath when a man wearing a white apron and an Orioles’ cap approached their table holding a magnificent dessert. “Cassie, I heard you were dining with us tonight, and I created something special for you. Nothing like what you make, but I hope you’ll find it acceptable.”

“It’s stunning! And I’m sure every bite will be to die for.” She beamed at him like he’d just offered her a priceless bauble.

Drew watched the scene unfold with a critical eye, careful not to display the possessive feelings simmering near the surface. What kind of asshole hits on a woman while wearing a baseball cap with a goofy bird on it, and an apron?

“Peter, this is Drew, a friend from college. Peter’s the pastry chef here, and if I can bring myself to share my dessert, you’ll taste for yourself just how talented he is.”

Talented, my ass. A friend from college, huh? It sounded so impersonal, so sterile. But what did he expect?

“I’m not bad, but not quite in your league, beautiful. I’ll leave you to your dessert. It was nice to meet you, Drew.”

Beautiful. Damn straight, and off limits to you, doughboy. “You have another admirer,” he said when Peter was gone.

The tops of her cheeks were pink. “The community of pastry chefs is small in Baltimore. We all know one another. Peter and I are just friends.”

“I’m happy you found something you love to do.”

She nodded. “Me too, at least for now. Eventually I’ll open the teahouse. A place where women can meet friends, or do business, but comfortable enough to sit alone with their thoughts and a journal. Somewhere beautiful and frivolous, without a shred of stodgy or staid. A place where little girls can celebrate birthdays wearing hats fit for the Derby and oversized strands of colorful beads, all while licking icing from their fingers.”

She was animated, and her face glowed in the muted light of the room while she shared her dream with him. He gripped his thighs, hoping to stop them from vaulting over the table and pinning her under him until he’d coaxed every drop of pleasure from her.

“Somewhere airy,” she continued, “with soaring ceilings and an elegant garden. But one thing at a time. Why are you smiling? I’m being too indulgent with my fantasies, aren’t I?”

“No. I was just picturing you as a little girl with a big floppy hat, licking icing off your fingers. I think it sounds wonderful. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t be caught dead in a place with all the feminine frills you’re describing.”

“Is that so? You couldn’t be enticed, huh? Not even by a decadent pastry?” Her eyes glittered, and that sassy tone was back, laced with a bit of playful flirtation this time, making him acutely aware of how much he wanted her.

“Oh, I can think of ways I might be enticed. Many of them decadent, but very few involving pastry.” His eyes met hers and she looked away, pretending to brush a crumb from the table.

“Cass, why did you need the Mediterranean sun to heal you?”

The color drained from her face, and he wished he could take back his words. And although he wanted an answer, he reached for hand and squeezed, “You don’t need to tell me. Not tonight.”

Just then the waiter brought the check, making it a little less obvious that she didn’t answer. That she had no intention of answering his question. Ever.

She let him take her hand again as they left the restaurant. “Want to walk a little?” he asked, hoping for another few minutes with her.

“I need to be at the bakery very early. Otherwise I’ll have irate customers beating down the door.”

“Where are you parked? I’ll walk you to your car.”

“You don’t need to. I’m just around the corner.”

He stopped and put his finger to her soft, full lips. “I want to.” Because I’m nowhere near ready to let you go.

He slowed his pace and inhaled deeply. “I leave tomorrow.” He should have left tonight with the team, but she didn’t need to know that. “I’d like to call you, and have dinner again.”

“Let’s plan on dinner the next time the team’s in town.”

“That’s the middle of the summer. Cassie…”

“Drew, it’s been a long time. There’s so much water under the bridge. You can’t go home again.”

“You were always an optimist. I can’t believe you’re resorting to bad clichés to push me away.”

She chuckled softly. “Really bad clichés.”

He brushed the hair away from her face with his fingers, before sliding them under her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I’d like to see you again, soon. Tell me you’ll answer when I call.”

After a few nerve-wracking moments, she nodded.

“Not very convincing from a woman named after the goddess of unrequited love.”

“Anteros was a God.”

“But Cassie is a goddess. Always has been, always will be.”

“Good night, Drew,” she said taking a small step back. “Thank you for dinner.”

He moved toward her and lowered his head to place one chaste kiss on her forehead, right at the hairline. Not the kiss he wanted to give her, but one he thought she might accept. But when he leaned in, she put her hand on his chest and stepped back.

And while he watched her drive off, he was still clutching his heart, the very place she’d touched when she pushed him away.

4

Cassie slipped into Lola’s bright and early the next morning, turned on the music, and got right to work. The sun was up when she placed the last of the tartlets in the oven. Normally, she loved the quiet of the early mornings, but today she longed for noise, chatter—any distraction to get her out of her head, pry her away from thoughts of Drew.

Coming face-to-face with him again had left her reeling. Made her painfully aware of how much she pined for him. How much she missed him. In truth, she’d already known. It was just that it had been easier to pretend she was over him when he wasn’t standing close enough for his breath to warm her skin.

Her days were busy, with little time for whimsy, but at night, when she was alone in her bed, she allowed herself to daydream. Her mind almost always wandered to him, to a place filled with light and happiness, nourishing her soul, and easing her into a peaceful slumber. On other nights, when her mind went elsewhere, where there was only darkness and terror, she lay awake for hours before tumbling into a fitful sleep.

Bittersweet as the memories were, she far preferred dreaming of him and the wonderful times they’d shared at school. Sitting on the bleachers in the hot sun, her full attention on the baseball game. Her gaze locked on the catcher, the player positioned behind home plate, facing the field, controlling the game.

Drew was born to be a catcher, a position requiring quick judgment, an analytical mind, and unwavering leadership. Someone who didn’t need the spotlight, but whose value was in making others shine. And of course, there was the not-so-small matter of powerful legs. God, did he have those.

The only time she looked away was when he threw himself across home plate, a defenseless human shield blocking an opposing player from scoring. Not caring about the scrapes and bruises that were inevitable from bodies colliding.

Someone from his family was almost always there, too. Sometimes more one. She’d sit and chat, focused on him in a catcher’s stance, crouching inning after inning, building muscle that made her knees weak to think about.

His body was spectacular, and she loved running her hands across his shoulders, down his chiseled back to his tight butt. When she kneaded the taut muscle, his kiss would deepen, marking her, until she was breathless with an ache between her legs that only he could satisfy.

He was strong—so very strong, adding a special dimension to their lovemaking. He could hold her up, in any position, until they’d had their fill. And he often did. Normally he was calm and measured, so there was nothing more arousing than watching him lose control, surrender to the passion, with an intense, rough quality about him. She’d been too shy then to tell him how much she loved it when he took her like that, but a part of her always suspected he knew.

Lindsey’s voice shook her from the dream. “Look what just came,” she said holding out an enormous arrangement of lilacs dotted with hundreds of forget-me-nots. “They’re for you.”

She took the beautifully woven basket and set it on the counter, burying her face in the purple flowers, absorbing the lovely scent of spring.

“Open the card,” Lindsey cried. “They’re from that hot guy who was in here the other day drooling over you, aren’t they?” she asked before Cassie could pry the small card from the envelope.

Cassie nodded. She didn’t need a card to know who’d sent them.

“What does it say?” demanded Lindsey from the balls of her feet, with her neck craning, trying to get a look at the card.

“It says, ‘I won’t forget you, either. Not ever.’”

“Oh. My. God. He’s romantic and gorgeous. That’s so not fair!”

“He’s a friend from college, in town for a couple of days. That’s all. Don’t get yourself all worked up over nothing.”

“Cassie, you need to get your head out of the brownie batter. No one sends those flowers with that card to say ‘it was nice seeing you again, maybe I’ll drop by in another ten years.’”

Cassie checked the flowers for water. “I bet Jodie could use your help out front.”

“Way to change the subject.”

After the door swung behind Lindsey, Cassie let herself enjoy the sweet scent wafting through the kitchen. Lilacs were the quintessential sign of spring, with its promise of new beginnings. “Not for me,” she whispered to the blossoms, giving them a fresh drink of water.

The next day came a Blues’ baseball cap, and a game jersey with the number twenty-four, Drew’s old number, and Anteros stitched across the back. The accompanying note read, some things for you to grow accustomed to before you visit.

Later in the week, he sent her a jar of almond and honey body cream. Her hard-to-get favorite brand, rich and luxurious, made in the town where her grandparents lived in Greece. She remembered how good it felt when he’d lather it over her body, his firm hands working the cream into her skin until she dissolved under his touch.

Sighing, she opened the note. Tell Reece I’ll be at the wedding after all. She closed her eyes tight while her brain tussled with her heart, making her woozy. She’d been putting it off, but she owed him a phone call. Another text message didn’t seem like enough. She reached for her phone, no time like the present.

“Thank you for all the gifts.”

“My pleasure.”

“You need to stop.”

“You don’t like them?”

“I love them. Even the baseball cap and jersey, now that the hives have gone away.”

He chuckled. “Immunotherapy, a painless desensitization. I love sending you presents. But I’ll stop if you’ll be my date for the wedding.”

She hesitated, and the silence blared louder than Chopin’s funeral dirge, and nearly as somber.

“You have a date.” It wasn’t a question but a statement, made in a thick, raspy voice heavy with disappointment. Or maybe it was sadness.

“Reece is my date.”

She could almost feel him relax through the phone.

“I can handle two dates.”

“Even if one of them is Reece?”

“Good point.”

“How about if I see you there?”

“You owe me dance.”

“Don’t you have Giants to slay?”

“I thought you didn’t follow Boston baseball. And don’t change the subject. Dance?”

“One dance. Lady’s choice. I don’t remember you being quite so relentless,” she sighed.

“That’s because back then I had everything I needed.”

* * *

She was right; he didn’t know what had gotten into him. He was acting like his brothers, pushy and demanding. Not his usual style. Sure, he was often determined to get his way, especially when it came to signing a player, and he was always willing to sweeten the pot under the right circumstances. But that was his job, and even then he never pushed too hard, never promised anything he couldn’t deliver, anything he shouldn’t deliver. Most of the time he gave people space to make their own decisions, their own choices, and that was especially true of women. It worked out better that way.

It was never a good idea to try to convince someone to act against what their heart wanted. It rarely worked out in the long run—not with baseball players, anyway. Probably not with women, either. But his gut was telling him that, despite the mixed signals, Cassie’s heart was already on deck. It was her head he needed to get in the game.

5

Drew sneaked into the church just before the first bridesmaid made her way up the aisle. He stood at the back, scanning the congregation for Cassie, and slipped in beside her as the organist began to play the wedding march.

She was so close his skin prickled from the heat off her body. Oh, God. Not in church. Clean wholesome thoughts, only—God, country, baseball, apple pie…

The guests oohed and aahed while the bride and her father made their way down the aisle. He knew if his brothers were here they’d be smirking at one another, thick as thieves, only too happy it wasn’t them waiting at the end of the white carpet. All except for Cole, who was counting the days until Alexa was his forever.

Drew didn’t have the same aversion to marriage his brothers had. He faked it some so they wouldn’t think he was supremely whipped, but he’d found the love of his life at an early age, so it wasn’t difficult to imagine why someone would want to share a lifetime with just one person. It’s what he wanted.

They sat in the old white church just a few blocks away from where they first met. A few blocks away from where they’d whispered promises, shared secrets, and fallen in love. But today they weren’t here to profess their love for each other, they were simply witnesses to someone else’s love.

He stole a glance at Cassie out of the corner of his eye. Her dress dipped in the front, and he caught a hint of cleavage when she reached for a prayer book. God, country, baseball…

After the ceremony, they stood on the steps outside the church with the other guests, and showered the happy couple with birdseed. Cassie and Reece laughed together like old times while Jay and Briana, the giddy newlyweds, ran down the stairs, shielding themselves from the onslaught of seed.

Reece was a tall, cool drink of water with auburn hair and expressive green eyes. Sassy and smart as a whip, she’d been Cassie’s freshman roommate, and, although on the surface it seemed that no two women could have less in common, they’d grown to love each other.

Cassie was a petite brunette with lots of soft curves, charming and polite, the only child of a Greek Wall Street mogul and his adoring wife. Reece was from a working class suburb of London, the only child of a hardworking single mother. Coddled and endlessly doted on, Cassie was born after her parents tried for more than a decade to conceive, while Reece was the product of a wild, drunken night. But both women were loved unconditionally by their parents.

During the first few weeks of school, Reece had referred to Cassie as Princess Cassia, often with a disdain reserved for mortal enemies. But try as she might, Reece was unable to push her big-hearted roommate away. She was stuck with her. And although Reece never borrowed Cassie’s rose-colored glasses, by the end of freshman year, their love and their loyalty for each other knew no bounds.

“Drew, I see time’s treated you well.”

“Reece,” he said wrapping her in his arms. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, and still sexy as hell. Is your Australian friend with you?”

“Cassie told you about Jesse?” she asked, beaming.

“She did.”

“No, he couldn’t be here.” She stuck out her lower lip, feigning a pout. “They’re training for the America’s Cup, and he couldn’t abandon his mates.”

“Too bad. No one knows how to have a good time like the Aussies.”

“You have no idea,” she said with a wicked gleam in her eyes. “But Cassie’s my date for the evening, and she’s a lot of fun too. Not in quite the same way, at least not with me.” She winked at Drew, flashing a shameless grin.

He shook his head, and watched Cassie’s eyes roll over flushed cheeks. “How about if we take one car over to the reception?”

“Why Andrew Harrington, are you offering to be the designated driver?” asked Reece without missing a beat.

“At your service,” he added quickly, leaving Cassie with little choice but to go along.

It was a short car ride along familiar streets to the reception at Roger Williams Park. One in which Reece never shut up. She’d ask a question and answer it before anyone else could squeeze in a word. Once or twice, he was sure his ears were going to fall off before they arrived. But it was mostly entertaining, and her endless chatter made for a less awkward ride.

He pulled up to the Casino at Roger Williams, a building whose grand style reflected a more genteel era, with its wraparound porches, grand ionic columns, and railings fitted with turned balusters. Its semicircular porticos, overlooked voluptuous plantings and a small pond with a charming gazebo.

Hors d’oeuvres and drinks were served on the front veranda overlooking the freshly mowed lawn, with dinner and dancing in the lavish ballroom on the upper floor. Its twenty-foot ceilings were the perfect backdrop for the plaster friezes and frescoes of cherubs serenading guests on miniature harps, trumpets and violins. The space was exquisite, yet welcoming, with not a staid bone in the structure. Erected during the Gay Nineties, it had been built for fun.

“It’s so beautiful here,” Cassie gasped. Her eyes strayed around the room, examining the fine details, searching for hidden treasures in the craftsmanship. “It’s the sort of place I always imagine for my tearoom. This setting reminds me of the…”

“Orangery in London,” he finished her thought, completed her feeling before she could even get it out.

“Y-yes,” she stammered. “Doesn’t it, Reece?”

Reece narrowed her eyes at Drew. “It does. Not exactly, of course, but it has that same feel to it.”

A short while later, Cassie excused herself to find the ladies’ room. “You’re not playing fair,” admonished Reece when Cassie was beyond hearing distance.

“Excuse me?”

“You come sashaying back into her life, like you’d just gone out for a case of beer and a bag of pretzels. Then you insinuate yourself, tossing out little scraps that come to mind. Scraps that remind her of what you once shared. Hoping those reminders will get you back into her bed.”

“I’m not trying to get into her bed.”

She gave him a raised, searing look.

“Okay. But that’s not all I want. It’s never all I wanted from her.”

“She’s not the same person you knew. She’s stronger in some ways, and more vulnerable in others.”

“I’m not the same person, either.”

“Hmmm.” She let her eyes wander from head to toe, boldly appraising him, without the slightest hint of interest. “Probably not. Although the guy at Brown wasn’t so bad.”

“I wouldn’t have to insinuate myself back into her life if I’d been allowed to see her years ago when I called you for help. As I recall, you were the one who prevented me from contacting her when I tried. You’re the one who kept us apart.”

“You don’t actually believe that, do you? I was just the messenger.”

Cassie approached and he swallowed his retort, but the air was charged, and he could see she knew something was amiss from the way she looked from one to the other.

Fortunately, there were lots of old friends to catch up with, and there was hardly a man there who didn’t want to talk to him about baseball, and plenty of women who wanted to talk to him, too. But the balls and bases they wanted to discuss had to do with a different sort of game.

He sat between Cassie and Reece at dinner. It was hard to stay annoyed with Reece for long. She was too damn funny, periodically tossing out some sarcastic but spot-on gem that kept the mood at the table light and playful.

The biggest benefit of sitting between them was that Cassie had to lean over him to talk with Reece, and when she did, he’d catch a whiff of her perfume or a glimpse of cleavage. And more than once or twice, her breast brushed his arm, testing his self-control, and the stitching on his trousers. Thank goodness they weren’t in church anymore.

After dinner the band began to play Honky Tonk Women by the Rolling Stones.

“I think I owe you a dance,” she said, cocking her head to one side.

The tempo and beat were faster than he’d wanted for a dance with her, because he was pretty sure he was just getting one. “Not exactly the dance I had in mind. I was hoping for something a little slower.”

“Lady’s choice. It’s all I’m offering.”

“Then I’ll take it,” he said, easing himself out of the gold ballroom chair, and following her to the dance floor.

When the song ended, the band went right into another song, slower, and he pulled her toward him. “Don’t make me beg.”

* * *

She gulped softly, unsure if she should run and hide. But she didn’t want to, not tonight. What she wanted, what every pore ached for, was to dance against him, moving like their bodies were one. She stepped forward and wound her arms around his neck, laying her head on his shoulder, because she couldn’t risk looking into his eyes while they swayed so close.

The feeling of being this near to him overwhelmed her senses, and she fought the tears stinging the back of her eyelids. She was swamped with emotion, overwhelmed by the way he felt against her, the way he made her feel. It took all her strength to resist the powerful urge to burrow into his body, to rub herself wantonly against him, to allow herself the familiar comfort of his body, of him.

She was in over her head right now, because she’d never stopped loving him. Yes, she knew there was no future for them. But tonight, just for tonight, she’d indulge the fantasy, imagine the pleasure of having him inside her. The hard bulge that brushed against her belly tempted her beyond reason. It was a vivid reminder of how she felt when her fingers, her tongue, slid over the smooth shaft, licking the quivering bead, letting her know that there was no turning back.

* * *

He rested his cheek on the top of her head and closed his eyes, letting her scent fill every corner of his soul. It was a sensory overload, her hair like fine silk teasing his skin, and her breasts pressed lightly against him. Her beautiful, luscious breasts that he’d feasted on so often he could describe the look, the smell, the taste, even though it had been years since she’d offered them to him.

Her heart raced between them, matching his beat for beat, in a gallop driven by excitement and fear.

He knew she could feel him hard against her, like so many other times they’d danced. But instead of pushing her hips into him, grinding against his growing need, propelling him toward madness until he couldn’t survive another second before tearing off her clothes and pulling her into his bed … tonight she left distance between them, making the temptation slightly less excruciating.

He didn’t attempt to draw her closer. It wasn’t where she wanted to be.

Not yet.

The dance ended, leaving him struggling with his caveman instincts, but his evolved self eventually won out. Barely.

“Cassie, just so you know, we’re not done. We’re nowhere near done,” he whispered in her ear, knowing exactly how her body would react to his warm breath tickling the tight orifice. And he wasn’t disappointed.

At the end of the evening, when he dropped them off at their hotel, after he’d given Reece a peck on the cheek, she let him place his lips on her skin, too.

“I’ll call you,” he murmured, letting his hand rest briefly on her arm.

* * *

Cassie said goodnight to Reece, and went to her room. She undressed in front of a large, beveled mirror, one that was far too pretty for what it reflected. She rarely examined her body in the mirror anymore, but when she did, shame and harsh judgment were the lenses she wore. She scowled at the reflection: two mutilated breasts, one grotesque, and the other moderately damaged. At least that’s how they looked to her.

In reality, the scars had faded quite a bit. They were no longer red and angry, threatening to open and ooze unspeakable fluid all over her clothes. And although her breasts weren’t the same, once you got past the scarring, they looked almost normal. Well, maybe not exactly normal, but she no longer resembled Frankenstein’s bride.

They were the parting gift of a talented surgical team and an endless supply of money. First, they’d scraped all the tissue from her left breast, and then they’d made her a new one, “a better one,” the doctor joked, making her want to jump out of the hospitable bed and strangle him. If only she hadn’t been sedated and bogged down with drains and IVs.

They also made her right breast perkier to match the left. She’d been only twenty-one when the ordeal began, but the numerous surgeries and nasty drugs, not to mention the nightly dragging of the Grim Reaper’s staff across her bedroom floor, made her feel like she was ninety, nearing the end of her life.

Exhaustion and pain became daily companions, and even the small tasks of living, like taking a shower, amounted to a full day’s work. And she wondered, nearly every day, if she’d ever feel like her old self, if she’d ever be young again.

But eventually she healed on the outside, and later on the inside. Took her life back, recreated it in a way that gave her purpose, made her happy. On most days, the scars were all that were left to remind her of that awful period in her life. The scars and the Tamoxifen.

But then Drew appeared, and the aftermath of cancer loomed large again, every day, almost without reprieve. There was no physical pain this time, but the scars on the inside had opened, leaking drops of sadness and grief onto her heart, causing an ache that even the strongest painkillers couldn’t relieve. And this time, even more than last, she wasn’t sure she’d survive.

It had been the worst two years of her life. First her boyfriend fell apart, and on his way to pulling himself back together, he abandoned her. But that had been just the tip of the iceberg.

“It’s a small lump, not much bigger than a peanut. Nothing to worry about in someone your age, but we should run some tests just to be sure,” said Dr. Merin.

The doctor had been so nonchalant that she hadn’t given it a second thought. A few of her girlfriends had benign cysts that came and went, or lumpy breasts that had given one doctor or another heartburn. But it was always nothing. She didn’t know a single person her age who had breast cancer. She’d never even heard of anyone who had breast cancer at twenty-one.

So she was floored when she got the call. Numb. Devastated. Terrified. All three emotions, and thousands more, swarming through her cancerous, traitorous body, in no particular order. She was certain she was going to die.

“I’m sorry, Cassie. I would normally have this discussion with you in person, but I’m away at a conference and it can’t wait. The lump is malignant. You need to meet with a breast surgeon and an oncologist, right away. Call my office as soon as we hang up, and they’ll set up everything for you. I’ll be back in town late next week.” Dr. Merin always had a light breezy way about her, but not today.

The first call she made was to her mother, who was speechless at first, and then went into full-throttle denial. “There must be some mistake, you’re twenty-one. This can’t be right. We’ll get a second opinion.”

And they did. They got a whole series of second opinions. Six, in fact. A nice, round number, from nearly every corner of the country, and they managed it all in one week. One exhausting, agonizing week that left her in a piss-poor frame of mind to make any decisions for herself.

And no matter how hard Dee Anteros prayed, no matter how much she wished the next doctor would say something different about her daughter’s condition, they never did.

Five experts recommended breast-sparing surgery, a lumpectomy, followed by radiation and Tamoxifen. But one doctor, world-renowned in the field, one who didn’t have breasts, said that only a mastectomy would all but assure the cancer wouldn’t return to the site. There were no guarantees, even with that, but it was what he’d want for his own daughter. “Breast cancer in young women is a killer. It’s aggressive, and comes back with a vengeance. It needs to be pulled out at the roots, left with no fertile ground to regrow.”

It was all her parents needed to hear. Their minds were made up before they left the doctor’s office that day. After all, it’s what the highly acclaimed expert would choose for his own daughter. They must have repeated the phrase dozens of times that afternoon. The irony was that the bastard didn’t even have a daughter.

She argued tearfully with her parents, but their desperate pleading and the terror in their eyes made her eventually acquiesce.

“Cassia, you’re being stubborn. Letting vanity get in the way of good judgment. Do you want to die?” her father shouted. It was the first time he’d ever raised his voice to her. The first time he’d ever raised his voice in their home.

“No! Of course I don’t want to die!” She ran from the room, hysterical, and threw herself across her bed.

“Cassia, baby,” her mother cooed, rubbing her back. “He’s terrified. I’m terrified. And I know this is terrifying for you, too. You’re so young. If I could carry your burden, trade places with you, I would. I lie awake at night asking God why it couldn’t have been me—it would have pained me far, far less to have cancer than to watch you go through this.”

Her heart crumbled when she heard the sadness and fear in her mother’s voice, and the genuineness of her words. Her parents would do anything for her, even give up their own lives. “But five doctors said it wasn’t necessary,” she whimpered, nearly beaten.

“They don’t have the kind of experience Dr. Hughes has. And even they admitted a mastectomy was the most conservative route.”

“How will anyone ever stand to look at me?” Who will ever love me?”

“Love isn’t about breasts, Cassie. Real love is more than a physical attraction. No man who truly loves you will reject you because of your breasts.”

Her parents had been married fifteen years before she was born. Her mother had suffered more than a dozen miscarriages. They’d given up all hope of having a child by the time she came along. She was their miracle baby, their only child, who they loved more than life itself.

So, at not quite twenty-two, feeling alone and deathly afraid, she traded her left breast for their peace of mind.

6

Cassie reached for her phone, smiling when the number popped up on the screen. “Hello.”

“Hello, yourself. What are you doing?”

“Sweeping the floor.”

“Any chance you’re wearing one of those sexy maid outfits?”

“Not a chance.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Doesn’t a big-time baseball executive like you have better things to concern yourself with than what I’m wearing?”

“I have nothing better to think about than what you’re wearing, sweetheart. Not a damn thing. Let’s have dinner tonight, maybe go listen to some music. When the team was in Baltimore, I read about a hot local band, and they’re in town this weekend.”

“Where are you?” she asked, cradling the phone in the crook of her neck while she continued cleaning up from the morning crowd.

“Boston. But the flight to Baltimore takes less than an hour, and there are dozens left today. I want to see you, and learn more about what happened in your life during the time we were apart.”

Her stomach began a series of backflips on the high beam, just like it did every time he probed the past ten years. “Drew, we can’t keep rehashing the past.”

“I know. That’s why we’re having dinner. I want us to get to know the people we are now, but let’s face it, the past plays some role in that. I already know about the first twenty years of your life, but the last ten are a mystery to me, and I don’t like it… Although, it’s not like it’s been a hundred years. You don’t seem all that different, you’re still the girl who stole my heart freshman year.”

“But I’m not. I barely resemble that girl, and lots of things have changed about me.”

“Whatever you say. You can tell me all about the changes over dinner.”

Not a chance. “I haven’t been to hear a band in ages, and dinner with you sounds great, but only if we can stay in the present.”

“Deal. Cass, there’s someone outside my office who needs to speak to me. I’ll call you on my way to the airport.”

* * *

Drew hung up with Cassie, and beckoned the visitor into his office.

“Jim, what can I do for you?” Jim Rogers was a seasoned sports reporter from Boston’s most prestigious newspaper, and a huge pain in the ass. They had a cordial relationship, but Rogers had been hanging around the clubhouse for decades, and he’d enjoyed a very cozy relationship with Drew’s predecessor. Too cozy. When Drew became the GM, he began treating Rogers the same way he treated every other reporter.

He gave him no special access, although that didn’t keep Jim from trying. Rogers took every opportunity to give him advice, which irritated Drew to no end. But out of deference to the older man, he usually just listened and said very little, hoping one day the gruff reporter would take the hint. Today wasn’t going to be that day.

Rogers got right to the point. “What are you going to do about Ross Simms now that he’s been released?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? He’s a good get. You need an ace, and a player who’s been around for a while, knows the ropes. He’ll give you that. You’ve got too many rookies on this team.”

“He hit his girlfriend with a closed fist.”

“Have you seen the tape? I hear it’s not as bad as the women’s groups are making it out to be.”

“Don’t need to see the tape, the police report that’s been all over the news is enough for me.”

“It’s a mistake to give up on him so quickly. One of your rivals is going to pick him up and then you’ll be screwed.”

“They can have him.”

“You’re not going to take the team very far with that line of thinking.”

Drew forced himself not to close his own fist and introduce it to Jim’s face. “Do you know how many kids look up to our players like they’re heroes? For right or wrong, they’re role models. And do you know how many of our fans are women? Exactly what message would we be sending them if we put someone like Simms on our team?

Drew tossed his phone on the desk. “And you’re wrong. Simms has nothing to offer these young guys. The atmosphere around here would be toxic with him on the team. In every locker room there’s at least one guy, at least one, who’s watched his mother, sister, grandmother, aunt, cousin get slapped around while growing up. And the rest of us have women in our lives who we love and respect. There’s no way someone like Simms is stepping foot in the clubhouse, not while I’m here.”

“You don’t make all the decisions around here, do you?”

“No, but fortunately the people I work for have the same feeling about this kind of shit that I do. And if they didn’t, well, then I’d be forced to look for another job.”

Jim Rogers walked away shaking his head. Drew had engaged with him much more than he should have, but the idea of bringing a piece of crap like Simms onto the team made his blood curdle.

* * *

Drew met Cassie at her place, and they ate dinner at a small Italian restaurant on Federal Hill, within walking distance of her apartment. She let him put his arm around her on the way to restaurant. The progress was excruciatingly slow, but it was moving in the right direction. He’d take it. After dinner they went to a small bar to listen to a band with a talented drummer.

“What?” she asked above the music.

“Nothing.”

She tugged playfully at the front of his shirt. “Tell me. What’s going on between those cute little ears of yours?”

“Well there’s an emasculating remark if I’ve ever heard one. My ears, like everything else about me, aren’t little. Or cute.”

She rolled her eyes. “No, they’re just the right size for your head, but they are cute. Now ’fess up. What were you thinking about with that silly grin on your face?”

“I was wondering if you still wear beautiful, sexy underwear. Where the bras and panties always match.”

She looked away, gathering the length of her hair at the base of her neck, and flipping it over one shoulder.

“Hey, you wanted to know what I was thinking. The tops of your ears are pink,” he said, and then leaned over to whisper in her ear. “I always loved the way your breasts looked covered in pretty lace, or not covered by anything but my hands.”

When he pulled back, she looked like she’d seen a ghost. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that about her breasts. He scrubbed his hand over the shadow on his jaw. Fuck.

“Cassie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like a pig.”

The color was still gone from her cheeks. This wasn’t just about an inappropriate remark. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. I need to get home.”

“Nothing’s wrong, but you’re whiter than a sheet, and…”

She bolted from the stool and out of the bar. He grabbed her arm on the sidewalk, but she pulled it free. “I can’t do this. Go back to Boston, Drew. Please. Let me get on with my life, and you get on with yours.”

She started to hurry off, but he yanked her back, and this time he held both her arms so she couldn’t pull away so easily. “If I thought for one minute you meant it, I might actually leave you alone. Maybe. But I don’t believe you. You’re scared, and you’re hiding something from me.”

People were staring at them on the sidewalk. Someone was sure to recognize him, and tomorrow’s headlines played in his mind. Screw it—let them print whatever they wanted. Right now, he didn’t give a shit.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it? Look at me Cassie. Is it?”

“I can’t stop you from believing what you want to believe.”

He sucked in a long breath and blew it out slowly. Maybe she was right, maybe he was chasing yesterday’s dream, focused on what he wanted to believe was happening between them, and disregarding reality.

“I’ll take you home.”

“You don’t need to.”

“Dammit, Cassie! Can’t you cut me even a little slack? Can’t you give in on something as inconsequential as a ride home?”

* * *

Inconsequential to him, maybe, but not to her. Every minute she spent with him, every little thing they did together, meant something to her. And it was complicating her life, messing with her emotions and her head in a way that was becoming unbearable. She needed to sort through her feelings, but she couldn’t do it alone. The stakes were too high, and she was too confused, and too afraid, to be able to figure this out by herself.

Right now, all she wanted was to hurl herself into the safety of his arms, and let him comfort her. But there’d be no going back from that.

When she got to her apartment, she e-mailed Dr. Ritchie, hoping she’d have an appointment available next week. “I’ve reconnected with a friend from the past,” she wrote, “and a lot of my old anxiety has come rushing back.” They hadn’t spoken in well over a year, because her life had been on such an even keel, she hadn’t needed the therapist’s support. But now she was a mess again. A huge mess.

* * *

Cassie sat in Dr. Ritchie’s familiar office, and reached for one of the little widgets she kept around for patients to fiddle with during difficult sessions.

“I feel like a spoiled child, unable to make decisions about my life. I really thought I was beyond all that. Instead of feeling grateful that I’ve made a good life for myself, grateful that my cancer wasn’t as aggressive as some others’, grateful that I’m alive, I’m in a perpetual state of hand-wringing, and feeling sorry for myself. I’ve become insufferable, I don’t know how he can stand to be around me, I can barely stand myself.”

“Cassie, you’re a strong woman, and you have rebuilt your life. But you experienced a great deal of trauma in a relatively short period of time. There was little time to recover between the blows. It was unrealistic to think that the fear, the anxiety and the grief wouldn’t resurface again. Tell me about reconnecting with your old friend.”

Cassie told her all about what had been happening with Drew.

“I thought I was finished with him.”

“Did you really?”

She shifted in her chair, and hung her head, examining a loose thread on the hem of her skirt.

“Because I never thought that.”

Cassie’s head shot up.

“From what you described, it always seemed like you’d avoided him. If I remember correctly, you were afraid that telling him about the cancer would add to his problems, and you were also worried about his reaction, afraid he’d be repulsed by the illness, by your breasts. So you never returned his calls or his letters. But avoiding someone is very different from being finished with them.”

“I never stopped loving him,” she admitted, quietly. “I didn’t allow myself to think about him when I was with Ned, because it felt wrong, like cheating, even though it was just in my mind. But I’ve always loved him, and when I saw him standing in Lola’s—it was like a mirage. Like I’d been wandering in a barren desert for years, desperately in need of love, and then there he was. And every feeling I ever had for him came rushing back, but the closer I get to him, the more I realize it’s an illusion. We can’t go back. It’s not how life works.”

“No. You can’t go back to the way things were, but you can move forward, to where you both are now. Do you have a plan to tell him you had breast cancer?”

She shrugged, tightening her grip on the widget. “Things ended badly between us, but before that, we had three wonderful years together. I can’t let go of those memories, and I don’t want him to let go of them either. I don’t want the loving gazes to be replaced with looks of horror and pity. Every time I cough, my parents look at me like the cancer may have spread to some other part of my body. Like I might die at any minute. I don’t want that with him.”

She pressed two fingers to her chin, rubbing them up and down while Dr. Ritchie sat in silence, waiting for her to continue.

“When I think of him, I remember the way he looked at me while we made love. How he looked at me after we made love. When not a single word was necessary to convey our feelings for each other. We’ve spent enough time together recently for me to know he remembers it too. I want to keep it that way.”

Dr. Ritchie nodded, and nudged the tissue box closer to Cassie.

“Even if he can accept the changes in me … he fell apart when his parents died, and it nearly destroyed him—I can’t die on him, too. And if the cancer comes back, I can’t take care of him, not the way I took care of my parents. I’m older now, and I’ll need all my energy just to fight for my life.”

“Telling him is risky, for all the reasons you’ve stated. But I can’t help but think your experience with Ned is also playing a huge role in your anxiety. What do you think?”

Cassie shook her head. “What Ned and I had is nothing like what I had with Drew. His rejection stung, but it didn’t destroy me. I loved him, but it was a different kind of love than I have for Drew.”

“I realize he wasn’t the love of your life, but he broke off the engagement three weeks before the wedding. After your dress had been altered, after every small detail had been attended to, after hundreds of invitations had been mailed, and the response cards were pouring in. And he blamed his decision on your cancer. You haven’t been involved with another man since him, have you?”

Cassie shook her head while tears trickled down her cheeks. “You don’t understand. If he rejects me, I’ll know it’s over this time. When I lie in bed alone at night, I’ll know. I won’t be able to fantasize about fate intervening to bring us back together someday. I don’t know if I can survive that blow.”

“You’re stronger than you think.”

Cassie shrugged. “I don’t know about strong, but I’m confused and conflicted.”

“Are you willing to give him a chance? Does he deserve it? More importantly, do you deserve it? He might reject you, but you might go on to have a great love affair, one that lasts a lifetime. You’ll never know unless you put your heart on the line. Everyone who enters into a relationship takes an emotional risk, not just survivors. You’ve battled a demon much fiercer than anything Drew can create for you.”

Cassie’s mind was moving a mile a minute through the swamp in her head, but like a sprinter running in place, her efforts took her nowhere. “I hoped talking to you today would bring me some clarity, but it hasn’t.”

“Maybe you don’t need clarity. Maybe you already have the answers you’re searching for.”

Cassie blew her nose one last time, and picked up her purse from the floor. “Thank you for seeing me again. Will this time work next week?”

“The appointment’s available. It’s yours if you want it.”

Cassie nodded. “Yes, please.”

“Loving is a delightfully scary business, like no other. And I’m sure the one-sided relationship you’ve had with Drew in your head all these years has satisfied some small part of you. But it must get lonely. You survived, Cassie. Maybe it’s time to live.”

* * *

Cassie’s picture popped up on Drew’s phone. “This is a nice surprise.”

“Hi.”

“Hi, yourself”

“I’m sorry about the way I behaved on Friday night. I didn’t mean to freak out. It’s just that I’ve been a whirlwind of emotion since you walked into Lola’s. I know I’ve been sending mixed signals, hot and cold, drawing you into my emotional storm. I’m trying to sort through my feelings, but it hasn’t been easy.”

“I’m sorry, too. When I’m around you, I forget that we were apart for so many years and I fall right back into old times, old ways. You’re not ready for that. I get it, and I’ll try to be more sensitive.”

“It’s not that. It’s … I’m afraid to risk my heart,” she said quietly, so quietly he could barely hear her.

His own heart toppled into his stomach, and he blew out a long, loud whoosh of air. “Cassie, you need to decide if I’m man enough to take a chance on, if I’ve grown up in a way that still interests you. But your heart is at no risk with me. I loved you as a college girl, and I love the woman you’ve grown up to be. Your heart’s safe with me. It always has been.”

“I want us to have another chance,” she sniffled. “I want it more than anything—please believe that. But it’s not as easy for me as it is for you.”

“The team’s in Philly on Sunday. Want to meet me for lunch, maybe take a walk through Reading Terminal Market? Or I can come to you after the game if it’s easier.”

“No, Philly on Sunday sounds great. It’s less than an hour by train if I take the Acela.”

“Come early so we can have the whole day together. I’ll need to be at the park by five-thirty. I guess I shouldn’t ask if you want to spend the night—I mean not together, or anything. Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to share…”

“Baby steps, Drew. That’s all I can do right now. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I’ve been moving awfully fast, because I’m afraid of losing you again. But I can do slow if it’s what you need. I’m prepared to give you time and space to work through everything. As much as you need.”

* * *

They spent the day together in Philadelphia, and he flew into Baltimore twice the following week, and three times the week after that. Sometimes he visited just for the day, and other times he spent the night at a hotel near her apartment.

Cassie had made brunch, and they were finishing the dishes, dawdling, each dreading the impending good-bye. He needed to be back in Boston by late afternoon, and there were few precious minutes left to squeeze out of the day. Their good-byes were becoming increasingly difficult, and the pain of separation lingered longer each time he left.

“Tomorrow we leave for a West Coast road trip, and I’ll be back just once before Cole’s wedding,” he said drying his hands and tossing the dishtowel on the counter behind him.

“I’ll miss you. Maybe we can FaceTime?”

“Mmmm, sounds like a plan.” Capturing her mouth with his, he ran his tongue along the seam of her lips, slipping inside when her soft gasps made way for him. He wanted more of her, he wanted all of her, but there was something, something always hanging between them, lurking, signaling him not to steal second. And it was there now, too. So he stayed firmly on first, satisfying himself with the contours of her moist mouth, and the slick flesh of her tongue.

“Come to the wedding with me. My family has always loved you.”

“Cole’s wedding? I don’t know.”

“We’ll stay in separate rooms.”

He kept his arms wrapped around her, but moved his head back so he could meet her eyes. “This is a big deal for me. My oldest brother’s getting married. The first Harrington to take the big plunge.”

“It’ll be hard without your parents,” she said softly, cradling his jaw.

He nestled his cheek into her caress. “Yeah … it’ll be hard,” he sighed, “but that’s not why I want you there. It’ll be a special occasion, full of hope for the future, for our family. I’d like to share it with you.”

She grasped him tighter. “Oh Drew … that’s so sweet … so unbelievably, heart-meltingly sweet. How can I say no?”

“You’ll come?”

“Do you really think it’s a good idea? Maybe it’s too soon. Everyone’s going to think we’re back together.”

“We are—exclusively, right, Cass?” He focused intently on her, studying her face, waiting for an answer.

She chuckled.

“What’s so funny?”

“You have that Harrington look on, like you’re getting ready to pummel any male within arm’s reach.”

“Cassie. I’m still waiting, here.”

“Let’s think about the wedding.”

“I’m not asking about the wedding right now.”

“Come on, Drew, what’s gotten into you? We promised to give this a try, and I made a commitment. Of course I won’t date anyone else. You know me better than that.”

His expression softened. “I won’t either.”

“I knew that without asking. I know the kind of man you are. Some things are so ingrained in a person’s character, so much a part of who they are, that they never change.” She worked the kinks from the back of his neck, until his head fell into her hands.

“I love you, Cassie. That’s a part of who I am too.”

Tracing his lips with her tongue, she caught his lower lip between her teeth, but she never waved him on to second.

7

Cassie adored Drew’s family. Brown was only about thirty minutes from their home at Meadows Shore, so she’d spent a lot of time with them when she and Drew were together. They came for games, or just to visit, and she and Drew made the trip home many times to pick up something he needed, grab a home-cooked meal, or just enjoy some time away from school. Since she was an only child, it was always a treat to be around all his brothers and cousins. Her parents were immigrants too, and their families shared some of the same old country values. Not only had she been welcomed with open arms, but she’d been right at home, from the first visit.

It was exciting to be at the wedding, and with so many eyes and ears around, there was no chance of something more intimate happening with Drew. Not this weekend. She could let herself go, and enjoy him without worrying about where it might lead them.

He still didn’t know about the cancer, but she was meeting with Dr. Ritchie regularly, working up the courage to tell him, and bolstering her sense of self in case…

“Dance with me,” he whispered in her ear, lipping the lobe in a way that made her shudder.

She was helpless to resist, and let him tuck her under his arm on the way to the dance floor. “We’ve been dancing all night. When did you start loving to dance so much?”

“It’s the only time I get to touch you, run my hands over your gorgeous body.”

He pulled her against him, and she closed her eyes, letting herself mold to him. She could feel how much he wanted her, and she was aroused beyond anything she’d felt in years. Using both hands, she skated over his back in long sweeps. He’d taken off his jacket, and she could feel every muscle, every tendon, through the thin shirt. He groaned when her fingers caressed his neck, skin against skin. Lowering his head, he found her mouth, swallowing the tiny moans escaping from her throat. They kissed as though they were the only two people in the room.

“Everyone’s watching,” she gasped, panting for air.

“I don’t care,” he said dipping toward her mouth again.

“We can’t, not here.”

It was all the encouragement he needed: we can’t, not here. To him, it meant, we can somewhere else, so he whisked her outside, behind the barn, before she changed her mind. From their secluded spot, they could still hear the music. “Dance with me.”

Her hands made their way across his shoulders, and down his back. She pressed her hips into him, rocking against the hard bulge, swaying until they were both practically delirious.

“Cass, God, I’ve waited so long for you to kiss me like this, so damn long.” And he explored her mouth, their tongues playing off each other like a finely tuned orchestra.

Feverish, she forgot to be on guard until he skimmed his hand over her breast, making her leap back.

“Hey, baby, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” He pulled her toward him, working a soothing hand up and down her spine, pausing at the nape of her neck to ease the tension that had settled there.

“Nothing,” she panted. “We shouldn’t do this here. Someone might walk in on us.”

“So what? We’re both adults. No harm as long as we keep our clothes on. Although you don’t have to.” He nipped at her lower lip. “I can’t imagine anyone would complain about seeing your gorgeous body naked. But then I’d have to kill them, and that might put a damper on the wedding,” he said, whispering into her skin, alternating between nipping at the soft flesh just above her collar bone, and laving it with his hot tongue.

“I should get back to the hotel. My flight leaves early in the morning.” She was panting like she’d run a marathon.

“I’ll go back with you.”

“No.” The sharpness of her tone, the finality of the single word, made him step back.

“You need to stay with your family until the wedding’s over.” Her voice was gentler now, but every muscle was tight, and she was queasy.

“Don’t be afraid of what’s happening between us, Cass. Please don’t be afraid. We don’t need to finish this tonight.” He pulled back her hair from her face, combing the thick glossy length between his fingers. “We can stop well short of the end. You have my word. But I’d like to kiss you some more. Touch you in ways that make you beg for relief. Like I used to. I want to feel you come apart in my arms … all night long. I don’t need to be inside you for that to happen.”

He had one hand planted on each side of her face, and she rested her hands over his. “Not tonight.”

He looked over her, up at the stars dotting the expansive Midwestern sky, and then into her eyes.

She could feel his frustration, the energy throbbing between them. But it was the defeat that she saw in his eyes that made her heart clench. “You said you’d give me time. I need a little more … please,” she begged.

“A little more, Cass, just a little more. I think that’s all I have in me.”

* * *

Lying in the hotel bed, Cassie thought about the wedding. It had been beautiful. Cole was so happy, and he looked at Alexa like she hung the moon and every one of the stars.

She wanted that too, and her stomach knotted. Sure, Drew looked at her like she spun straw into gold—now. But he hadn’t seen her naked, or heard her sad story, and when he did, the aura would surely be tarnished.

Stop! No more negative self-talk tonight. She needed to talk to Reece, who was the only person who wouldn’t put up with her self-pity. And with a witty remark or two, she’d have her laughing in no time. Even cancer hadn’t been a subject too serious for Reece to inject some humor. She’d made her laugh at a time when nothing seemed all that funny, and she’d taught her to find humor in the darkest corners.

She glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand, and after calculating the time difference, reached for her phone.

“Reece, did I wake you?”

“No. Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I’m in Minnesota.”

“Minnesota? Oh, yeah, the wedding. How was it?”

“Beautiful.”

“How about being with Drew’s family?”

“After about ten minutes, all the years melted away.”

“You haven’t told him.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you wouldn’t be chatting with me right now, you’d be using your mouth in more creative ways.”

“I can’t find it in me, Reece. I love having him back in my life, so much so that it’s making it impossible to tell him. I want things to go on like they are.”

“They can’t. Eventually he’s going to insist you have sex. I’m shocked he’s waited all this time. If I remember, he was a horny bastard. And so were you. All over each other like the rest of the world didn’t exist.”

She swallowed hard, and massaged her tight, painful forehead. “I think he’s running out of patience. I’ve become an insufferable whiner and a tease, leading him on and then pulling back. I can’t stand it.”

“Think about how he feels.”

“Thanks.”

“Cassie, you’ve had sex since the mastectomy. I know it’s not easy to begin with a new lover, and it’s particularly difficult now because you’re so invested in him, but honestly, this is ridiculous. I’m just going to say it: Ned is a douchebag. I’d lop off his balls, but I’m quite certain he doesn’t have any.”

“I thought you liked him.”

“Who could like a man with a handshake like that? I’ve handled firmer wet noodles. I don’t know how your father put up with him…”

“I’m sure my parents felt like I did, that I was lucky to have him, given my circumstances.”

“Bullshit. Your parents have never seen you as anything but perfect. You need to stop feeling sorry for yourself. I don’t like it.”

“I know. I know. I don’t like it either.”

“I tolerated Ned for your sake, because you kept saying you loved him. But after having an up-close and personal look at your relationship with Drew all those years, I always thought you were settling when it came to Ned. And I never thought he was right for you. I always thought he was better suited to Minnie Mouse.”

“Minnie Mouse?”

“Yes. Maybe he has a shot now, didn’t she and Kermit break up?”

“That was Miss Piggy.”

“Well that’s not going to work. Miss Piggy has too much personality for Ned.”

Cassie snorted.

“I can’t believe you’ve waited, been able to wait. Drew looks so good, even I thought about jumping his bones when I saw him in Providence—and he’s so not my type.”

“He’s anyone’s type. He could have anyone.”

“But he’s only ever wanted you. Cass, you’ve got to tell him. You know I’ll stand by you no matter what you decide, but after watching the two of you together at Jay’s wedding—you owe it to him, and you owe it to yourself. Put on your big girl panties, and make sure they’re clean and they match your bra, because he’s probably going to see them, and I know how much you care about that sort of thing. And tell him.”

“I will,” she whispered.

“Not convincing. Say it again.”

“I will.”

“Sooner, rather than later.”

“I know.”

“Cass, can we finish this tomorrow? I wasn’t asleep, but I was in bed.”

“With a hot sailor?”

“Scorching hot. “

“Tell him I said hello, and I’m sorry for interrupting.”

“Hmmm. From the way my sheet’s tenting, I don’t think we’ll be doing much talking.”

“Too much information!”

Reece was right. She needed to tell him. Waiting was only making it more difficult, and he knew something was up. His eyes were always searching hers for answers, answers she didn’t know how to give him.

* * *

“I still can’t believe Cole’s married,” Jake Harrington said taking a swig from a long-necked bottle. “So who’s next, you?”

“Me? Forget it. But Drew, he’s back with little Cassie,” said Mark poking at his brother.

No one had been ready to turn in after they got back to the hotel from the wedding, so the Harrington brothers commandeered a couple of small tables at the back of the bar, and were waiting for their cousins to join them.

“How long have you been back together? And how come none of us knew about it?”

“A couple of months,” he said, sidestepping the second question.

“I always loved Cassie. Even though I was so much younger, she always made me feel like I was important. Always made sure to include me in whatever was happening, and she introduced me to all her friends when I went to visit at Brown.” Luke was the youngest of the Harringtons, and his brothers had treated him like a little kid long after he’d left the training wheels behind, but Cassie had gone out of her way to make him feel like he was part of everything they did.

“Yeah, you followed her around like a lost puppy hoping she’d throw you a bone … or a smile that would give you a boner.” Jake’s goading remark didn’t even earn him a scowl from Drew.

“Hey, I was just a kid, and she was like a rock star. Closest I’d ever been to a college girl I wasn’t related to, and she was so nice to me. Always brought me bags of Swedish fish and orange jelly beans when she came to visit. Give me some artificially flavored, chewy candy, and I’ll be your friend forever. I’m easy, what can I say?” He shrugged.

“Surprised you’re down here with us. Where is she, with the girls?” As usual, Mark wasn’t going to let it go.

“Nah.” Drew took a swig from his glass.

“Did she leave already?”

“She’s staying at a hotel across town.”

“Did you guys have a fight?”

“No. What is this, the Inquisition? That’s why I didn’t say anything, because you ask too goddamn many questions.”

“You must have one hell of a technique, if your girlfriend—one who you went out with for years—is staying across town instead of in your bed.”

His brothers snickered mercilessly.

He gripped his nearly full glass without saying a word, and with a few large gulps he finished his beer and grabbed the pitcher for a refill.

It got real quiet, real quick, around the table.

Mark watched him intently. “Hey, man. The appropriate response to that was something like ‘fuck you, asshole.’ I was just yankin’ your chain. I’m sure whatever’s going on has nothing to do with, you know, your skill in the bedroom.”

“Yeah, well, fuck you, asshole.” And Drew got up and left the table, passing his cousins Talia, Ella, and Helena, almost knocking them down on his way out of the bar.

“What was that about?” asked Ella pulling up a chair.

“He’s on the rag,” Mark answered without thinking, and Ella smacked him on the back of the head.

“What the—”

“Someone has to teach you.” She looked over at Will, for a better answer. “What happened?’

“I don’t know. Sounds like something’s up with Cassie and Drew.”

“Or maybe something’s not up,” said Mark, cruising for another sharp lesson.

Will gave his brother a pointed look. “She’s not staying here at the hotel with him.”

“Maybe she’s not as serious about him as he is about her,” Jake said, shrugging. “I don’t understand why everything involving women has to be some big drama.”

Ella glared at him. “You’re lucky I can’t reach you and my feet hurt too much to get up.”

“All I’m saying is, it doesn’t have to be that complicated. Sometimes it just boils down to she’s not that into you.”

“For all we know, he’s not that into her, and his sad sack attitude has more to do with his dic—disappointment—that he didn’t get lucky tonight.” Luke stole a glance at Ella to make sure her butt was still planted in the chair.

“No way,” Helena said shaking her head. “Did you see the way they were looking at each other while they danced tonight? There was enough light beaming from their faces that we could have lit the barn in a power outage.”

There was a collective male groan.

“Okay. Here’s the thing, ladies. Whenever some guy’s face lights up when he’s looking at a woman, it doesn’t mean he’s in love with her. He’s just trying to get some, and Mother Nature’s giving him a helping hand, lighting the way, so to speak. It’s how the species is propagated.” Mark celebrated his words of wisdom with a cocky grin and a Sam Adams.

“It’s a human mating sign. Nothing more,” Luke agreed, tapping his bottle against his brother’s glass.

“Oh, please.”

“Nah, they’re right. Don’t go through life interpreting that shine in some guy’s eyes as love. It’s about getting into your panties. It’s always about getting into your panties. Remember that.” From the time they’d developed breasts, Will had warned the girls: guys are either having sex, or they’re thinking about how they’re going to get some. It was a simple message, always clearly delivered, but they never really took it to heart.

Mark shook his head. “How many times do we have to explain this? It’s how women get into trouble with men.”

“And you know how men get into trouble?” Talia asked with an angelic smile.

“No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell us. Before you start…” Luke signaled to the bartender for another round of drinks.

Helena rolled her eyes. “Men think the light and those warm feelings are just about sex, and before they know it, Cupid’s sneaked in and shot them with a tiny little arrow filled with hearts and kisses.”

Jake snorted, and his brothers snickered, shaking their heads in disgust.

“Isn’t that what happened to Cole? Got hit when he wasn’t looking?” asked Talia, repeating how her cousins regularly explained Cole’s love for Alexa.

“Cole’s a pussy.”

“Where’s Juliana?” asked Luke, who always kept a close eye on his youngest cousin, even more so than his older brothers did.

“She’s at the hotel restaurant with Grace.”

“They could have ordered food here.”

“They’re on a date.” Talia’s face paled. She’d spilled the beans without thinking, beans that were best kept sealed in a tight-lidded jar.

“A date? With each other I hope.” Mark was drumming his fingers on the table, waiting for a response.

“They met a couple of guys in the lobby. Nice guys.”

“The hotel lobby?” Luke was in full-blown prosecutor mode now.

Ella nodded.

“Tonight?”

“No. A couple of days ago. They’re firefighters, here for a wedding, too. I think they’re leaving tomorrow.”

“Firefighters?” several male voices said in joint horror. They’d spent many an evening playing pool with firefighters in a small bar just outside of Boston. They were great guys, with some amazing stories to tell. Some smokin’ hot stories that involved hoses, but no fire.

Jake was the first to pull out his phone. “I’m getting hungry, it’s been a while since I’ve eaten. Want to go over to the restaurant with me, Lukie?”

“I could eat.”

“You can get food here. Leave them alone,” Ella cautioned.

“If they wanted to be left alone, they should’ve answered my texts. Or stayed in their room and played Barbies, like old times.”

“Julianne’s going to be furious if you guys go charging over there.”

“I’m shaking in my boots,” Luke tossed over his shoulder while they swaggered in the direction of the restaurant.

Talia shook her head at the two big galoots who were under the impression that those young women were still seven years old. Juliana was a law student, and Grace a medical student. Grace and her mom, Veronica, had moved to Meadows Shore shortly after the Claytons moved in. Veronica helped Mary Clayton manage the household, and Juliana and Grace had been inseparable.

“Is Drew okay?” asked Ella.

“He’ll be fine,” said Will, but his brow never eased.

Mark drained his glass, and signaled for the check. “I’ll check on him when I go up.”

* * *

Mark had one hand on the doorframe, bracing himself, when Drew pulled the door open. “What do you want?”

Mark pushed his way past his brother into the small suite, and made himself comfortable in a wing chair in the far corner of the room. “My room’s nicer. It has more windows, and the drapes aren’t as ugly.”

“Are you here to discuss the furnishings, or do you actually have something to say?”

Mark leaned back and crossed his legs, ankle over knee. “So, what’s going on?”

“With what?”

“With Cassie.”

“None of your fucking business.”

“If you expect me to leave here any time soon, you need to come up with a better answer than that.”

“I can handle it. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I’m not worried about you handling it, but you don’t need to handle it alone. It’s one of the good things about having so many brothers. That, and there’s always someone to have a pissing contest with.”

Drew sat on the edge of the bed, across from his brother. Mark was a funny guy, sometimes hilarious. His personality was a cross between Cole and Will. On the surface, he seemed a lot more like Cole—Cole on steroids—but Drew and Mark shared a room growing up, and he knew him better than anyone else.

Mark carefully contemplated most things, mulled them over just like Will did, but he never let anyone see that side of him. He preferred the reputation of the laid-back class clown, with a wild, impulsive streak when something got his hackles up. And he had an enormous soft spot, especially where his family was concerned.

They’d grown up in a home with enough bedrooms to house a small army, but their mother insisted they each share a room until high school. “It’s nice to have a friend to share your dreams with, tell your secrets to. And late at night, when life’s problems seem enormous, it’s important to have someone who can ease your mind so you can sleep.”

They’d all groused about it at one time or another, but to no avail. Maggie Harrington loved her boys more than anything, but she wasn’t a pushover. Despite all the complaining they’d done, the day Mark moved into his own room had been bittersweet for both of them.

“Earth to Drew. The night’s growing old here, and so am I.”

“I bumped into her by chance a couple of months ago, when we were playing the Orioles. Since then, we’ve been spending a lot of time together in Baltimore, where she lives. She claims to be committed to giving the relationship another try, but we’re moving at a snail’s pace. Not sure why. It’s not just a physical thing.” He shrugged. “I could understand that. I wouldn’t like it, but I could understand it. But she’s holding back in every way.”

“Maybe she’s still hurt and wants to be careful. We’re always telling the girls to go slow, eyes wide open, no rush. Things didn’t end all that well with you guys. I can see why she’d be nervous about jumping right back in.”

“Didn’t end all that well between us? I’d say that’s the understatement of the millennium… But there’s something else, too. I can feel it.”

“Cassie’s good people. She’ll get around to telling you when she’s ready. Can you give her time?”

“I thought I could give her as much as she needed, but I’m not so sure now. The whole thing’s starting to fuck with my head. I’m so distracted, and we’re in the middle of the season, I can’t afford to have my head up my ass all the time.” He filled his chest with air and blew it out “But I can’t let her go. I missed her every day. Every damn day, since I left Brown.”

“Talk to her.”

“You don’t think I’ve tried?”

“Maybe she just needs a little nudge.”

“Maybe. But I don’t want to push her too much. A long-distance relationship is hard enough. She needs to be ready.”

Mark got up from the chair and patted his brother’s shoulder on his way out. “I’m next door, and when I’m not, you know how to find me. Anytime, anywhere,” he said reaching for the doorknob.

“Hey.”

Mark swung partway around with one hand on the door.

“Thanks.”

“No woman is ever getting in your bed while you’re wearing that stupid baseball shirt. How many times do I have to tell you baseball’s a pussy sport?”

A smile brightened Drew’s face until it became a chuckle. It was an old joke between them. For most of their lives, Mark had played lacrosse in the spring and Drew had played baseball.

Drew grabbed the padded bolster from the bed and lunged in his brother’s direction, getting in a whack or two before Mark made it out the door.

Then, grinning from ear to ear, he latched the lock and crawled into bed. All and all, it had been a great weekend.

8

Cassie slipped on a floral sundress and a pair of sandals with kitten heels before texting Lee to make sure everything was set for Drew’s birthday dinner.

This was the weekend. Tonight they’d celebrate his birthday, and tomorrow after breakfast, she’d tell him. She wouldn’t send him home one more time without talking to him.

But first she wanted to enjoy a special evening together, maybe their last. She wanted to see his face light up when their eyes met, see his mouth curl in an easy smile. She wanted to make a memory, a perfect memory. One she could file away and pull out when she was lonely or scared, like she did with all the other memories they’d made.

They met outside his hotel.

“Where are you taking me?” he asked nibbling on her ear.

“I told you, it’s a birthday surprise. You’ll see soon.”

“I’ve always loved the idea of being kidnapped by a hot babe.”

The cab pulled up in front of a modern glass and concrete building on the harbor, and Drew’s eyebrows shot up. “The Aquarium?

“Do you still like them?”

“Oh, yeah. I visit one in every city where the team plays. But isn’t it closed for the night?”

“Not for us.”

He swung her around to face him, trapping her with one leg on either side of hers. “We have it to ourselves?”

She recognized that look on his face. “Down, boy!” she laughed. “Yes, we have it to ourselves, but we’re not really alone. There’s security all over the building.”

“How did you arrange this?” he asked with all the excitement of a little boy who was about to be let loose in the toy store with a roll of bills in his pocket.

“We did a special cake for them for their anniversary last year. They forgot to order a cake, and called in a panic at the last minute, and we accommodated them. It ended up to be a big hit, and the woman in charge of the event told me to call her if I ever wanted to use the space. They rent it out for all kinds of parties.”

“We’re having a party?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled up at him. His eyes were dancing with the possibilities, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this happy. “A birthday party, just you and me. Happy birthday.”

“Cassie.” He found her mouth and refused to let go until neither of them could breathe.

They strolled through the aquarium hand-in-hand, taking in the sharks, penguins and octopus, enjoying the exhibits and each other. His hands were tough and callused, and his fingers strong and dexterous from years of baseball and drumming, while hers were deceptively smooth and soft, like pampered accouterments rather than hardworking tools used for kneading dough and adding delicate touches to desserts.

The contrast was an aphrodisiac, a metaphor for the kind of sex they’d once shared. Yin and yang, male and female. Her belly clenched, as though it remembered the rough texture of his hands on her flesh, awakening a need that began and ended at her core.

“Hungry?”

“Ravenous.”

“Let’s go. Dinner’s almost ready.”

“We’re having dinner here?”

“Mm-hm.”

She led him downstairs to a table for two, ready and waiting in a cozy alcove under the stairs. “Dinner will be out in about five minutes.” The lights were low, and the sound of water bubbling in the distance added to the romantic ambiance.

“I love aquariums, but I have especially fond memories of this one.” His mouth curved slightly and his eyes had a faraway, wistful look. “When we were kids, my dad brought the four oldest to Washington with him one school vacation. Mom stayed home with Jake and Luke. I was so excited to be included with the big guys.” He shook his head, the smile still on his gorgeous face. “We went to work with him, sat up in the Senate galley with Jennie, his assistant. Jennie works with Will now. Anyway, my dad kept glancing up at us, and after about an hour he came up, and said he’d decided to play hooky for the rest of the day. Will, of course, asked him if it was okay to just leave work. And he told us some things were more important than work, even more important than the country’s work.

“We went back to his office, and he changed and drove us here. We had lunch near the Inner Harbor, at a place my mother would have hated, and then spent the afternoon wandering around the aquarium before going over to Camden Yards for a baseball game. It was an unbelievable day.”

She was smiling.

“You’ve heard that story before?”

She nodded.

“It’s why you chose this place for my birthday.”

A woman carrying a large tray appeared out of nowhere before she could answer.

“We’ll take it from here, Lee. Thank you for everything.”

“My pleasure. You can drop the dishes in the tub I left in the kitchen, and I’ll be back in the morning when they open to pick it up.”

“What do we have here?”

“Bacon cheeseburgers, sweet potato fries, onion rings and coffee frappes.”

“That’s exactly what we ate for lunch that day with my dad.”

“Except you had chocolate milkshakes because they had no coffee syrup, and they’d never heard of a frappe.”

He got up and grabbed her off the chair, lifting her a foot off the ground, tightly ensconced in his arms. “I don’t know how I’ve survived most of my life without you. I can’t believe you remembered all those little details about my day at the aquarium.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “I remember everything, too. Everything. I’ve lived off those memories for years. They sustained me through every dark moment, warmed my soul when I was sure I’d die without you.”

He held her as close as one human being could hold another, and she hoped he couldn’t sense how vulnerable she felt.

“We’ll always have the old memories, but we’re going to make new ones, too,” he promised. “There’ll be so many, you won’t have space to hold them all, sweetheart.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so.” He nuzzled her neck. “Let’s eat before the sharks bust out of their tanks. I hear they love a good bacon cheeseburger.”

He dragged a French fry through a puddle of ketchup and popped it into his mouth before tackling his sandwich. “The burger’s great. I still can’t believe you arranged all this,” he said, wiping the juices from his mouth.

“I wanted to do something special for your birthday. Something we’d always remember.”

“Seventh game of the World Series, two outs, bottom of the ninth, bases loaded, you hit a grand slam, baby. It just doesn’t get any more special than this—not for me.” He lifted her hand to his lips. “Thank you.”

“I’m so glad you like the surprise. I thought you might—I hoped you would.”

At that moment it was impossible to tell which of them was happier, and it didn’t matter, anyway.

“You better help me with these onion rings, because if I eat them all myself you’ll have to roll me out of here like a keg, because I won’t be able to move.”

“Save some room for dessert.”

“Dessert?”

“Mm-hm. I think you’re going to like it, too.”

“I love dessert, and I always save room for it. Usually for more than one round.” He leaned across the table and tucked her hair behind one ear and ran his fingers down the dark strands, playfully tugging at the ends. “Should I open that champagne over there, or are you saving it for someone else?”

“There’s only you,” she said, standing up to retrieve the bottle of Veuve Clicquot chilling in a bucket off to the side.

“Good answer,” he growled, pulling her onto his lap, and catching her mouth in a kiss so filled with raw emotion it nearly consumed them. With their foreheads touching, they rested and caught their breath, light years away from the grief and sickness that had torn them apart.

“Open the champagne. I’ll be right back.” She placed a small kiss on his nose, her eyelashes fluttering against his cheek.

“Mmmm.” He slid his hands down her back and over the curve of her hip to her thighs, before reluctantly letting her go.

He’d just finished pouring them each a glass of champagne when she returned, carrying a miniature replica of the Blues’ historic ballpark, surrounded by silver candles resembling the gaslight torches that lit the perimeter of the park.

“Happy birthday!”

“Did you make this?” he gasped, studying every angle, every nuance that made the park unique. No detail had been too small for her to include.

“I baked the cake, did the research on the park, and some of the decorations, but I had a lot of help from a couple of bakers who do decorative frosting much better than I do.”

“It’s amazing. Whoa! Look at left field wall. You didn’t miss anything. Cassie…”

“Make a wish.” He didn’t close his eyes. Instead, he took both her hands in his, drinking her in, and made his wish before blowing out the candles.

And even though he didn’t extinguish every candle in one puff of air, at that very moment, neither of them doubted that his wish would come true.

“I want to get a picture of the cake before we cut it. Maybe we shouldn’t eat it. Will it harden like clay if we let it dry out? Then I could keep it in my office under a glass dome.”

“Of course we should eat it,” she said while he took a series of pictures. “If you’d rather admire it than eat it, then I haven’t done my job. I’ve stimulated your vision, but not your taste buds. I haven’t made your mouth water. Dessert isn’t a brilliant painting or a magnificent sculpture, it’s meant to be enjoyed first by the eyes, and then by the tongue.”

He stood still, his breathing shallow, and his eyes dark and hooded. “I don’t think anyone’s ever made birthday cake sound quite so sexy.”

“My mentor believed that a good dessert was poetic, but taste for yourself.” She lifted a small forkful of cake to his mouth.

“Mmmm. Saving it was a bad idea. A very bad idea,” he said, helping himself to another bite.

They cleaned up, finished their cake, left a large chunk of it with the security officers on duty, and took the rest with them.

“Drew?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m almost ready to take the relationship to another level, but do you think tonight I can have one more pass?”

“Whatever you need, sweetheart.”

She brushed her hand over his cheek. “Do you want to go back to my apartment for coffee?”

“I’d love to,” he said, taking her hand and depositing a small kiss in the center of her palm.

9

Cassie’s apartment was a just a short ride from the aquarium.

“It’ll only take a few minutes to make coffee.”

“Don’t put the cake away,” he called over his shoulder on the way to the bathroom.

Being near Cassie without having all of her was excruciating, but they were so close he didn’t mind giving her one more pass. That’s what she’d asked for, one more pass before taking the relationship to the next level. He knew what that meant. It was womanspeak for next time we’ll have sex. Wasn’t it?

He shook his head. A guy would’ve said something like one more pass until I slide all the way home, or something even more graphic and lewd. Either way, everyone would have known exactly what he meant. There would have been no ambiguity. Hell, no guy would’ve asked for a pass in the first place. If a woman was good enough to have sex with next time, she was good enough to have sex with this time. But women…

He opened the medicine cabinet, hoping to find some mouthwash, but a prescription bottle caught his eye instead.

Tamoxifen. One pill daily.

With a growing sense of unease, he picked up the bottle, searching for clues. He’d heard the name before, Tamoxifen. But where? Where? He couldn’t place it at first. Jay…

His stomach coiled tighter than a boa constrictor in a defensive posture. Jay’s mother had breast cancer when they were in college. She’d been real sick, and the culprits had been chemotherapy and Tamoxifen. Potent drugs with lots of side effects, that’s what he remembered. Maybe he remembered wrong.

His heart was racing, and the blood hammered in his ears. Please, God, let me be remembering wrong, he prayed while pulling out his phone to search for answers, hating every blasted second, knowing he should just ask her about the pills.

But in his gut he already knew—knew it’s what she’d been holding back. Anytime his hands got anywhere near her breasts, she jumped back. She wore loose tops around him, nothing form-fitting, except when he surprised her, when she didn’t expect to see him.

He splashed cold water on his face before stalking into the kitchen and slamming the pill bottle on the counter with more force than he should have used.

“When were you going to tell me? Were you ever planning on telling me? Is this why every time I kiss you, even if your eyes are black as coal and you’re barely breathing, you push me away? Is this why I’ve been taking cold showers for the last two months? Is this why my head’s been so far up my ass I can barely do my job? Is this why I’ve spent countless hours worried that now that you’ve had more sexual experience, I didn’t measure up?”

He lifted the small plastic container and banged it on the counter again. “Is this why?”

Her eyes resembled supermoons, sans the light, and her hand shook so much it sent the small pitcher of cream she was holding crashing on the ceramic tile.

“What were you doing in my medicine cabinet?”

“I went to get some mouthwash. I was hoping to kiss you. Hoping that maybe tonight my kiss would get me past first base, or at the least it would stop you from pulling away. But I guess that wasn’t going to happen.”

“You had no right to … and don’t jump to any conclusions about why I’m taking that,” she said, wiping up the mess from the floor.

He reached down, grabbing both her arms, and lifted her up off the floor. “Look at me. Is there any reason people take Tamoxifen except to treat breast cancer? Is there another use for it?”

“Yes.”

“Really? Because that’s not what I read…”

“What you read?”

He ran his hands up and down his thighs. A move used by catchers to wipe the sweat off their hands, or to slow the pace of the game a few seconds. “When I saw the bottle, the name was familiar. It’s what Jay’s mother took when she had breast cancer.”

“And you read about Tamoxifen then?”

“No. I read about it on my phone in your bathroom when I found the bottle.”

“Because you couldn’t trust me enough to ask me about it.”

“No. Because you couldn’t trust me enough to tell me.”

“You had no right—”

“Save it, Cassie. Stop trying to shift the focus to a minor infraction, the one where I invaded your privacy. Let’s get to the crux of the matter. The one where you’ve been lying to me for more than two months. Something you’ve never done before.”

“I didn’t lie to you.”

“Yeah, you did.” And he stomped out, taking his anger and fear with him.

* * *

She heard the door to her apartment open and slam shut, and she collapsed over the counter, burying her face in her arms, sobbing.

After several minutes, she felt the weight of a hand on her back. When she turned her head, his shadow hovered over her.

“You’re not getting away with this so easily.” He pulled out two chairs from under the kitchen table and led her to one. Then he moved the other chair near, until they were sitting knee to knee, and he took both her hands.

She pulled them away. “I c-can’t,” she stammered.

He grabbed her hands again and used his thumbs to massage her palms. “It’s me, Cassie. I love you. You can tell me anything.”

“Don’t you understand? That’s exactly why I haven’t told you. Why it’s been so hard.” She was alternating between taking in large gulps of air and blurting out short, choppy sentences. “I-I was going to tell you. T-tomorrow after b-breakfast. I-I didn’t want you to find out … like this. I planned on it—but now…”

“If you don’t tell me, I’m going to call my boss and take a leave absence. And then I’m going to follow you everywhere, glued to you like a second skin, until you tell me about the cancer. Until you talk to me about your health.” His voice was shaky too.

She began to hiccup uncontrollably, and he brought her a box of tissues and a glass of water. “Cassie, look at me. Nice, easy breaths. That’s it. A few more, sweetheart.” He held the glass to her lips, “that’s it, small sips.”

When she’d had enough of the water, he placed the glass at his feet, and took her hands. “I’m not leaving until I know what’s going on. You can kick my ass out of here after you talk to me if you’re that put out that I intruded on your privacy. But I am not going anywhere until I know what’s happening with you.”

She kept her head down while tears streamed down her face, raining onto her lap.

* * *

“Cassie—please.”

“I … h-had … breast … cancer,” she choked out between sobs. “It’s gone … for now.”

His heart shattered into a million pieces. He’d known what she was going to say, but desperately hoped he was mistaken. “More, Cass. I need more.” His voice was so raw he barely recognized it.

“I don’t know what else to say.”

“There’s plenty more to say. Cassie, for some reason you need to hold this in, to keep it from me. I’ve given you plenty of reason not to trust that I can handle bad news. Maybe that’s why you haven’t told me. But you need to forget about the scared, confused kid at Brown. He grew up. He’s a man now.”

“I don’t want to forget. Those were the happiest days of my life. I loved that kid.” She traced her finger down his cheek. “I never stopped loving him,” she wept.

He closed his eyes, struggling to control his breathing, hoping to regain control of his emotions. His eyes were stinging. When he finally opened them, he held her hand against his face. “Do you think you can love the man he’s become?”

“I already do.”

He pulled her head near his, resting his forehead against hers.

“Then tell me, Cassie. Tell me because I need to know, and tell me because you want—need—to be able to talk to me about anything.”

She picked up the glass of water and took a few more sips, dawdling like a child avoiding bedtime. Finally, when he couldn’t stand it anymore, he took the glass from her hands and set it on the table.

“Talk to me.”

“The week after graduation I had a routine doctor’s visit before starting my job. The doctor noticed a small lump in my left breast. She wasn’t too worried about it, but ran some tests to be sure.”

She stopped for a minute and grasped his hands tighter, digging her nails in.

“The pathology came back positive. I had Stage IB, invasive breast cancer. It was hormonal receptor positive, an aggressive strain, but not the most aggressive. We met with several doctors, from all over the country, for recommendations. That’s when I bumped into Cole, at Boston General.”

“My brother Cole?”

She nodded, and his body stiffened.

“He knew about this?”

She nodded again. “I begged him not to tell you.”

His head fell back and he growled like a wounded animal, a low, dangerous growl that made her jump.

“Most of the doctors recommended breast-sparing surgery, with radiation and Tamoxifen. A few thought chemotherapy, post-surgery, might be warranted. But one of the doctors we met with, a world-renowned breast cancer specialist, told us that a mastectomy provided the best odds for long-term survival. After that, my parents couldn’t even discuss a lumpectomy rationally, they were so fixated on a mastectomy as the best course of treatment. So that’s what I did. I had a nipple-sparing mastectomy, and a flap procedure as part of the reconstructive surgery. That’s how I spent the first year after graduation.”

He pulled her onto his lap. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you. So sorry you had to go through this without me.”

“I had a lot of support. My parents, Reece, a counselor, a support group. It was an awful time in my life, but I’ve been in complete remission, cancer-free for almost seven years. And I’ve got about three years left with the Tamoxifen.”

“Seven years. If you’re cancer-free for five years, doesn’t that mean you’re cured? I remember Jay saying that.”

She shook her head. “That’s popular lore. A few doctors still tell their patients that, but it’s misleading. Once you’ve had cancer you’re never really cured. It’s impossible to know if every cancerous cell was removed, or killed by the treatment, an errant cell can lay dormant for a long time. There’s always a risk it can come back. But the longer you go without a recurrence, the less chance it will come back.

He nodded, trying to process all the new information while his heart lay in tatters at his feet.

“Cassie, what does nipple-sparing surgery with a flap procedure mean?”

She explained the clinical details of her treatment in a detached voice, like they were someone else’s breasts. It was probably the only way she could have the conversation.

“You seem so healthy.”

“I am. If it weren’t for the scars and the Tamoxifen, my life would be almost normal.”

“Almost?”

“I’ve moved past the worst of it all—the surgeries, the pain, most of the treatment, and the constant fear of reoccurrence. I found something I love to do, and made a new life for myself in Baltimore, where no one knows about the cancer, where no one gives me pitying looks and treats me like I’m dying.”

She sighed. “I’d gotten more comfortable with my body—at least it wasn’t a huge issue anymore. But since you came back into my life, I’ve been spending a lot of time feeling sorry for myself. Wanting things to be back the way they were, forgetting to count my blessings, forgetting how lucky I am. So very lucky, Drew.”

She looked at him with soulful eyes washed out from all the tears. “Young women usually have very aggressive cancers, and the odds of long-term survival can be grim. And the side effects of the Tamoxifen haven’t been too bad for me. But there are no promises, no guarantees about the future.”

She was shivering. He could feel the goose bumps on her arms, and he wrapped her tighter trying to warm her with his shaky hands. “What side effects does the Tamoxifen have?”

“Not tonight. Please don’t make me tell you that tonight.”

He gently pulled her head against his chest, stroking her hair in attempt to soothe them both.

* * *

She could feel his shoulders heaving, and knew if she pulled away, she’d see his tears. It made her cry freely, a river of tears she thought she’d already cried out, tears for losing him, tears for the past they shared, and tears for the future she yearned for, but doubted they’d ever have.

After a little while, he stood and carried her toward the bedroom.

“What are you doing?”

“I want to hold you tonight, all night. I need to Cassie, and you need it too.” He slid off her sandals, and kicked off his shoes and lay down next to her, curling his body around her, probably hoping to shield her from any more pain.

“I’m still listening,” he said, “but I don’t want any space between us while we talk.”

“That’s all for tonight. I promise I’ll tell you more tomorrow.” Her voice sounded weak and hoarse.

“Deal,” he murmured, and she relaxed and drifted off almost immediately.

10

He’d gotten very little sleep, lying awake for hours, trying to get his head around everything she’d told him. Desperately trying to sort through his emotions. He wanted to know more, to understand more.

He wanted to know if she still felt sick, or if she’d lost her hair, and a small part of him wondered what her breast would look like, what it would feel like. But what he wanted to know more than any other thing, was if the cancer would come back and take her from him, or if it was really gone. He shoved the thought somewhere in the back of his head, because it was simply too scary to think about.

Instead, he focused on his brother Cole, and how he was going to rearrange his face the next time he saw him.

After he finally nodded off, he’d woken up once or twice wrapped around her, forgetting about everything that had happened the night before, enjoying every sensation of her against him until reality came crashing down, crushing his chest and leaving him in agony.

When she woke up the next morning, she pretended not to notice the bulge in his pants, the one that had been pressed against her for most of the night. For him, it was a welcome normality. Probably for her, too. When she moved to get out of bed, he held her tighter.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“The bathroom.”

“Only if you promise to come right back.” He kissed the back of her head.

She came back fifteen minutes later, after showering and brushing her teeth. She had on yoga pants and an oversized, button-up shirt. “Why don’t you shower and I’ll make some breakfast?”

“Is that a nice way of telling me that I stink? I was hoping you’d come back to bed and we could talk a little more.”

He pulled her back into bed. “Mmmm, you smell delicious. I don’t need breakfast, I have everything I need right here.” She stiffened in his hands. “We’re just going to talk. I’m going to hold you, and you’re going to tell me some more about what happened while we were apart.”

She entwined her fingers in his.

“Tell me what happened with that douchebag you were engaged to.”

“Ned. His name is Ned.”

“Whatever. I like my name better.”

“He’s a nice man. We had a nice life.” She took several breaths before continuing. “I’d told him about the cancer right away—but in the end, it was too hard on him. Too much. It had only been a couple of years since the last surgery, and it was still a precarious time. His family never thought the marriage was a good idea. Anything can happen in life, but it’s risky to get involved in a relationship with someone who has cancer. That’s what his parents were always telling him.” She shrugged. “The uncertainty can be debilitating for some people, and they wanted something better for their son.”

He squeezed her. “There’s no one better than you, baby.”

“A few weeks before the wedding, it got to be way too much for him, especially, especially…” The phone rang, and Cassie reached for it. “It’s my mom.”

She sat up, and Drew got out of bed and went to take a shower. He stood under the water for a good long time, letting it wash off some of the stress. Between the cancer and the douchebag, his body was as tight as a drum.

When he went back into the bedroom, she was gone. He could smell coffee and hear the clanging of pots and pans in the distance.

He was barefoot when he strolled into the kitchen in a pair of jeans with no shirt, and he caught her checking him out pretty boldly from near the stove.

“What are you making?”

“Waffles and an omelet.”

“Mmmm,” he said, leaning down for her mouth.

She placed her hands on his chest to keep some distance between them, but her fingers had a mind of their own and curled into the muscle, giving them both more of a charged sensation than they bargained for. He wondered if she could feel his heart pounding in her hands.

“Help yourself to some coffee. The mugs are in the cupboard above the pot.”

Her voice was low and husky, and he let himself linger for a minute on her hips, before cupping her face in his hands. “One day soon, I hope you’ll let that kiss go where it might.”

Flustered, she turned away. “Peppers and onions okay in the omelet?”

“I’ll love whatever you make Cassie, I always have,” he said, splashing some milk into his coffee.

“You never finished telling me about breaking up with Ned.”

“He broke off the engagement, not me. Are we always going to have to talk about the cancer now?”

“It’s not about—” But then it occurred to him that it was about the cancer. That’s exactly what it was about. That’s what had turned all her fears into reality, cementing them, destroying the quiet self-confidence of the woman who had once brought birthday cupcakes to a college class without a second thought. Son of a bitch.

“He was an only child, like me, and he wanted kids.” She was whisking the eggs in a large bowl, and they were taking quite a beating. “I might not be able to have children.” She paused, breathing deeply. “I won’t know for sure until I stop the Tamoxifen. And even if I can get pregnant, it might not be a risk I’m willing to take.”

* * *

She could hardly believe she’d said the words out loud to him without collapsing into a heap on the floor.

“What about adopting kids?”

“He was an only child, and felt a responsibility to carry on the family lineage.”

“Lineage? Like a prized racehorse, or does he have royal blood? A distant relative of Henry VIII, maybe?”

“Stop being so smug.”

“Good thing I’ve got five stud brothers to carry on the Harrington lineage.”

“It’s easy to joke about now, standing in my kitchen, with children so far off in the distance they’re not even a gleam in your eye. But people feel differently when it hits close to home.”

“Not me. I won’t feel any differently. And I was right all along: he’s a first-class douchebag.”

“Don’t be so judgmental. Children were an important part of the life we imagined for ourselves a long time ago. I’ve always wanted them, and so have you.”

“I still want them. But I don’t care whether we raise babies we make, or babies someone else makes. I only care that we raise them together. If you think you’re going to chase me away because of that, or because you don’t want me to see your breasts, you’re going to be sorely disappointed, because I don’t care about any of it.”

“Well, I do. I care about my breasts, because they’re connected to my sense of being a woman … to my sexuality. I know it seems silly and vain, but it’s true. And I care about having a baby growing inside me, feeling those little kicks and pushes. Don’t discount the importance of having children, Drew. Don’t.”

“Cassie. You want me to grieve for children I don’t have, children I won’t have. That’s silly.”

“You’re smarter than that. How are you going to feel when Cole brings home a baby from the hospital, one with that Harrington chin, or when all your nieces and nephews are playing on the beach, gifted with their fathers’ athletic grace. It’s not silly. Children are blessings that, after careful consideration, we sometimes choose to live without. But none of this is silly—premature, maybe, but not silly.”

“I’m just saying that none of this matters to me, and it shouldn’t to you, either.”

“Don’t tell me these things don’t matter. It’s my breast that’s scarred, my womb that’ll be empty. If these things don’t matter to you, it’s only because you haven’t given them enough thought.”

“Cassie. We can work this out. I don’t mean to be insensitive, but this is all new for me. It’s completely unfamiliar territory. I’ve been on an emotional roller coaster since last night. I don’t know what to think about what you’ve told me, or even how to think about it. But I am sure of two things, I love you, and I never stopped loving you. And I’m sure we can do this. I’m as sure about it as I am that the sun will rise in the east tomorrow.” He wrapped her in his arms.

“That’s at least four things you’re sure of,” she said softly against his chest, and he lowered his lips to hers with an intensity that ended the conversation.

* * *

After his parents died, after he fell apart, he’d spent months learning to make peace with the life he longed for, and learning to embrace the life in front of him instead. A life that didn’t include his parents or his aunt and uncle. Yes, he’d always imagined having kids, but he knew how to create a life that didn’t have everything he wanted. Everyone he wanted. He’d done it once, and he could do it again.

11

Before Cole fully opened the door, Drew had him by the collar with one hand, and was swinging at his face with the other. “You bastard, you knew. You knew about Cassie, and you didn’t tell me,” he shouted as his fist landed on his brother’s jaw.

“What the fuck!” Cole jumped out of reach before he could land another punch.

“I saw Cassie at the hospital, and even if I thought you were in the right frame of mind, I couldn’t tell you. I had an ethical obligation,” he said rubbing his hand over the tender skin.

“How would you feel if it had been Alexa?”

“I would feel like I wanted to kill you. About how you’re feeling right now, which is the only reason you just got a free pass. One free pass,” Cole warned, reaching into the freezer for an ice pack for his face, and a bag of frozen peas for Drew’s hand.

Drew shook his head at the bag his brother offered him. “I don’t want it.”

“Suit yourself.”

“She went through it alone.”

“She wasn’t alone when I saw her.”

“She lost her breast because there was no one to support her, to save her.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you were going to save her? Really?”

“Because I couldn’t even save myself, right?”

“You look like you saved yourself pretty well,” Cole said, walking into the living room.

“She had a mastectomy because her parents wanted her to, even though a whole host of specialists believed a lumpectomy would have been enough to get rid of the cancer.”

“And you think you would have been satisfied with breast-sparing surgery, even if it carried more long-term risk? Really? Because I’m not sure that if it were Alexa, I wouldn’t have lobbied for removing the entire breast. And guess what? It wasn’t your decision to make anyway. Not then, not now, not ever.”

“She needed someone in her corner. Someone who would support what she wanted. She didn’t have that.”

Cole sank into a chair and put his feet up on the ottoman. “Drew, I’ll be honest with you. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d bumped into Cassie on the street. I’m honestly not sure whether I would have told you. You were just starting to turn things around. I was glad I was at the hospital in scrubs when I saw her, because it took the decision out of my hands.”

“We’re brothers. First. Always.” He pounded the table in front of him, rattling an etched bowl filled with sea glass. “Isn’t that what you’ve drummed into me all my life?”

“Look, you’re feeling guilty, confused and scared right now.”

“Don’t you dare tell me what I’m feeling.”

“I forget, how long has it been since the initial diagnosis?”

“She’s still receiving treatment, but she’s been in complete remission for almost seven years. Why am I so freaked out by something that happened so long ago?”

“It’s brand new for you. Raw, like it happened yesterday. She’s not someone you just met and started dating. That would be unsettling enough. This is someone you once loved, envisioned growing old with. Maybe you still love her, maybe in these last couple of months you’ve been picturing yourself on the porch in those rocking chairs, again.” He shrugged. “And there’s all that guilt wrapped around every single feeling you’re having. Choking them, distorting them beyond recognition.”

He pounded on the table again, and the bowl wobbled precariously close to the edge. Cole centered it back on the table.

“You need to be pissed off at somebody, go ahead, take it out on me. It’s easier to be mad at me than to think about Cassie. I get it. You’re having a normal reaction to hearing some scary shit. Sorry to give you the bad news, I know everyone thinks you’re a freakin’ whiz kid and all, but I’ve seen you bare-assed, and you’re human just like the rest of us.”

“There are so many questions spinning in my head, I can’t begin to keep track of them all. I want to reassure her that nothing’s changed, convince myself of that, but the reality is that in some ways everything’s changed. I don’t know how to be with her now. It seems like everything I say is insensitive. What if it comes back? What if she dies? What if I can’t handle any of it? What if I hurt her when we make love? What if I can’t … you know, get it up, keep it up?”

Completely lost, he looked to Cole for answers, hoping his big brother would toss him a lifeline. “It sounds so awful, so damn weak. But I’m throwing it all out there for you buddy, every fucking thought that’s running amok in my head. I’m not proud of any of them, but I need your help. I’m drowning here. I don’t know how … how to even … how to touch her,” he whispered.

Cole’s face softened. “You’re asking me how you should touch Cassie?” There was not a trace of sarcasm in his words, not one bite, only empathy. “You know her better than anyone.”

“Knew her better. You're a doctor.”

“This conversation about Cassie’s breasts is going to get weird real quick. Trust me on this,” he said quietly.

“There’s no one else I can talk to.”

“You could talk to her.”

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to have a conversation with someone who thinks they’re damaged? What it’s like to want to make everything better for them, to make them understand that they’re beautiful, that you want them more than anything, more than you ever have? That it doesn’t matter what her breasts look like, it doesn’t matter whether or not she can have kids. I can’t seem to say any of it without sticking my foot in my mouth. Without making the situation worse, without making her feel worse, more vulnerable.”

Drew paced the living room. “And you know what else? It’s all our goddamn fault. Mine, yours, every guy who’s ever made a comment about how a woman looks, hot, stacked, legs that won’t quit, too old, too fat, too ugly—we don’t even mean half the shit that comes out of our mouths, but we say it anyway. And every woman with the smallest imperfection crumples into the corner.

“It doesn’t matter how many scars we have on our bodies—I’ve got plenty, and so do you. No one cares about these,” he said, rolling up his sleeve and sticking his arm with its faded scars in Cole’s face. “But we make such a big fucking deal about every little thing women have, everything they don’t have. And we don’t mean a goddamn word of it.”

He sat down and buried his face in his hands. “I’m a mess. How am I ever going to make this work?”

“First you need to get ahold of yourself, Gloria Steinem.”

“Screw you.”

Cole ignored him. “The emotional stuff you’re going to have to work through with Cassie. I’m sure she’s more frightened than you are. I can’t help you with any of that. But as for the physical part, I’ll give it a try.” He scratched his temple, and took a big breath before he started.

“First, stop thinking about her like she’s one big tit.”

“Is that what you think I’m doing?” He was itching to pound someone, and Cole would do as well as anyone else.

“I’m doing the best I can, here. Do you want my help or not?”

“Fine.”

“One day, with a little luck, Alexa’s going to be pregnant, and her body’s going to change. If you’d asked me a few years ago what I thought about having sex with a pregnant woman, I’d have told you it would be a major boner killer. But I can’t imagine ever not wanting her, regardless of how her body looks. Because I love her, and when you love someone, sex begins and ends with your heart. Not with your brain, not with your dick, but with your heart. It sounds to me like you love Cassie, the physical part of your relationship will be fine.”

Drew shrugged, unconvinced that anything would ever be fine again.

“You know the first time you’re with a woman, you fumble around a little—you start with what’s worked for you in the past and gauge her response, and then after a little while, when she’s more comfortable, you ask her what makes her feel good. You do that, right? You don’t just fumble around like a horny teenager the whole time, right?”

“Fuck you.”

“Hey, you're the one who came here asking for my advice about having sex with your girlfriend.”

“Watch it,” he snarled, remembering the time when he’d been about fourteen, and Cole and Will caught him down by the dock kissing Gina Howland like the end of the world was approaching. Groping her breasts with clumsy hands, not on her skin, but through her shirt. He wasn’t going to get anywhere near her skin that day, but that hadn’t stopped him from feeling like he was the luckiest bastard alive.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here,” came Cole’s booming voice, completely freaking out poor Gina, and ending any hope that he’d get anywhere near her skin. Ever. Then later that night he got the talk, the sex talk.

Cole, Will and Mark, his older brothers, the sexperts. Jake and Luke were too young to join them, but they’d have their chance too, one day. They played video games while they imparted their worldly knowledge to him. Apparently there were all sorts of rules about hooking up with girls, and his brothers knew them all by heart. Of all the rules they taught him that night, one had served him best throughout his life.

“Girls take a long time to finish, a lot longer than guys. It’s your job to get her there first, at least once, before you blow your wad.” Cole always had a way with words, never gussied it up, never said everything’s going to be fine if he knew you were fucked.

“But the good news,” Mark added, “is that girls have a magic button to help you get them there.”

Cole glared at Mark, and shook his head. “It’s not actually a button. So don’t be pressing on it like you’re calling for the elevator. But find it, and learn to use it, and you’ll be a damn hero.”

There were several more rules, and then they ended their lesson by cautioning him to remember that every girl is someone’s daughter, sister or cousin. “Or mother,” quipped Mark. “

“Eww!” came the chorus, and Will smacked him over the head with a game controller. “Don’t be doing the deed with anyone’s mother.” And with that, the discussion was over, and they let Jake and Luke into the room.

Later that night he stuck his head in Cole’s room. “Where’s the magic button?”

Cole smirked, and beckoned him inside. “Shut the door.”

“Hey! You still with me?”

“I’m listening.”

“You’re a good guy … you’ll do the right thing. But if you don’t think you can do this, or if it’s going to take you to a dark place, you need to get out now, before she gets any more involved. There’s nothing wrong with knowing your limitations. But don’t spend a lot of time dicking her around while you’re trying to figure it out.”

“I was a coward back then, and I’m a coward now. I thought things had changed. Thought I’d changed.” He shook his head.

“Nah. A coward is someone who shrinks in the corner. You got up, and stayed up. And you’re not cowering in any corner now. You came to me and asked for help, for support. Only men do that.”

* * *

“Princess Cassia, did you tell him?”

“It’s been years since you’ve called me that, Reece, and I can’t say it brings back fond memories.”

“Tell me you told him, and I won’t ever call you that again.”

“He knows.”

“And?”

“And he didn’t run screaming from me like I’m a pariah to be banished from the kingdom, and he didn’t pity me, at least not too much. He behaved exactly how I would have expected him to behave, if I could have seen past the crippling anxiety and fear.”

“Well, I’m not surprised. Give him a big, sloppy kiss from me. Right on the mouth.”

“Will do.”

“You know, I might have expected you to sound more relieved about all this now that he knows. You didn’t have sex, did you?”

“No, somehow telling a guy you had a mastectomy while tears, snot and mascara are smeared all over your face isn’t much of a turn-on these days.”

“You vastly underestimate men.”

“Ned knew, too. He thought he could handle all the uncertainty, and the pressure from his family.”

“Drew’s not a pussy, and from what you’ve told me, no one in his family has a pole stuck up their ass.”

“I know all that. But I’ve had enough experience now to know there are a few more chapters left to be written of this story.”

“Stop it! I’m the pessimist, and you wear the rose-colored glasses. That’s the way it has to be if we’re going to remain friends.”

“Maybe I should start calling you Princess Reece.”

“Queen Reece, or your Royal Highness will do just fine, thank you. And whatever you do, don’t plan a summer wedding—I don’t want to wilt like a thirsty flower for the photographs. And for God’s sake, don’t make me wear some ruffled frock.”

“Don’t keep those rosy glasses on too long, Reece, or you might find you actually like them.”

“Pfft.”

12

Cassie’s back was to the kitchen door when it swung open. She was busy kneading the dough for the next morning’s pastry, and swaying to the sound of Adele on her iPod. “Is it still busy out there?”

“Not too bad,” he said, kissing her neck.

“Drew! What are you doing here?” She leaped into his arms, being careful not to get flour all over his navy polo shirt. Not that he would’ve given a damn.

“Came by to see my girlfriend.”

“I thought you were on your way to Atlanta?”

“Forget your geography? Baltimore’s on the way to Atlanta,” he said, nuzzling her neck.

“You didn’t need to be on the plane with the team?”

He shrugged. “I don’t think they would have been happy chilling at the airport while I came by to say hello.”

“How long do you have?”

“An hour.”

“You went so far out of your way to say hello for an hour? You’re nuts.”

“Nuts about you. I needed a kiss. A few kisses. So get your hands out of that dough and put them to better use. And then I’ll be out of your hair for a few days.”

“Let me cover this, and we can grab some drinks and walk over to the park across the street.”

“Beat you to it. Lindsey’s getting drinks for us.”

“You’re awfully sure of yourself. You were always confident, but you’ve gotten downright bold.”

“Age will do that to you.”

“I like it.”

“We better go get those drinks. Otherwise I’m putting this counter to good use.” He ran his hand along the smooth stainless steel. “And it’ll be damn cold against your gorgeous ass.”

“That would pretty much freak out my employees.”

“I don’t know, I think Lindsey would love it. She likes me.”

“She does, but that’s no reason to give her a free show. I’d never hear the end of it.” His smooth lips skimmed hers in a slow, deliberate tease, before sliding into a long, erotic kiss that left them both breathless. “Let’s get out of here before you get me into trouble.”

They grabbed the drinks and took them over to the small park across from Lola’s, settling into a couple of unoccupied swings in the shade.

“Doesn’t it raise eyebrows that you’re not around as much as you used to be, not on the team bus on the way to the airport?”

“Probably a few. Mainly because, well, they don’t want me talking to any other teams, and they don’t know where I’ve been spending my time. But the team’s winning, and that’s the bottom line.”

“Are you talking to any other teams?”

“No. I’m talking to you,” he said taking a sip through the straw.

She rolled her eyes. “How long do you think you’ll be with the Blues?”

“Before they fire me, you mean?”

“Or you decide the circumstances are better somewhere else.”

“I’ll be with Blues for the rest of my career.”

“You’re a long way from the end of your career, isn’t that kind of optimistic?”

“You’re writing my obituary, too?”

“Never.”

“Cassie, I love my job, but part of the reason I love it so much is that it’s in Boston with the Blues. I’m hoping to settle down at some point, and I don’t want to live a life where I’m on the road so much. I want to raise a family, sleep with my wife most nights. I’ve never told anyone this, but when they’re ready to kick my ass out of there, I’m done. I love the Blues, and I hope there will be room for me with the organization in a different capacity. If not, I’ll consult. It might involve some travel, but nothing like what I do now.”

He took another long sip. “Despite what you read in the papers every time we lose two games in a row, my position with the team is secure for now. And when it’s not, maybe I’ll write, coach high school baseball—it’s not like I need the money. I’ve been smart about finances. My apartment’s my one big splurge. They pay me well, and, except for school, I haven’t touched the money my parents left.”

“What if your wife doesn’t want to live in Boston?”

“You mean what if you don’t want to live in Boston?”

She toyed with the lid from her cup, but didn’t say anything.

“Would you consider moving to Boston?”

“Boston?”

“You could open a tearoom there. Boston has a long, distinguished history with tea. And that wasn’t some little local award you won.”

“How do you know that? You googled me.”

“No. Lindsey told me all about it one day when I was hanging around waiting for you. And then I researched it—the award, not you. I didn’t know James Beard from Joseph Moustache, and I wanted to understand more about it.”

She shook her head. “I suppose now you’re conversant on the subject?”

“Pretty much. It wasn’t an award, it was the award. You can go anywhere and start over.”

“The award was for a rising star in the field, it’s not really the award.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Boston?”

“I just hired a baker, and my employees have been with me since Lola’s opened its doors.”

“Cass, you have a half dozen employees. You’ve more than outgrown the space, and you could help them find other jobs. You have connections in Baltimore’s food industry. Talk to your friend Peter. And, I’d be more than happy to split the cost of opening a tearoom in Boston with you.” He moved his swing closer to hers and nudged her foot with his. “I’d even be happy absorbing the entire cost.”

“No. No, the bakery, and someday the tearoom—they’re all mine. Something I need to do, that gives me purpose, and brings a measure of comfort and peace to my life.”

She twisted her swing from side to side, biting down on the straw in her iced tea.

“If you don’t want to move to Boston, then we’ll live in Baltimore, New York, wherever you want. My first priority is you. If I have you, everything else will fall into place.”

He got up and put his drink down on the top of the slide, and then placed hers there too. “Hold on tight.” He swung her high, so high her toes grazed the lower branches of a hulking beech tree nearby. And for a short time, they laughed and played like they hadn’t a care in the world.

* * *

Drew was on his way home from Blues Park when he stopped in front of a small shop he’d passed dozens of times called Satin and Lace. He opened the door and was immediately assaulted by lingerie. Nothing but skimpy lingerie as far as the eye could see. He’d never stepped foot in any place like this, and even growing up with all those females next door hadn’t prepared him for the onslaught of femininity that smacked him in the face. It was like opening a girl’s underwear drawer by mistake.

There was something mildly arousing about it, but there was also the overwhelming feeling that you needed to close it quickly, before anyone caught you and accused you of being a pervert. But even with that you couldn’t look away.

Fortunately, a saleswoman in her early forties wearing a modestly cut dress rescued him before he ran out of the shop to grab a beer and some wings at a bar. Shoot some pool. Scratch his balls, adjust his dick. Do something—anything—decidedly male. Now he appreciated sexy underwear as much as the next guy, but he liked it covering soft, sweet-smelling skin, liked peeling it away slowly, leaving a trail of kisses along the bare flesh, or yanking it off in one quick tug because he couldn’t wait another second to have a taste. But this stuff on hangers…

“May I help you find something?”

He nodded, still studying the room, not wanting to be caught lingering in one place too long.

“Just relax and go with the flow,” she whispered with a wink.

Good Lord, he must look as uncomfortable as he felt. “I’m looking for a present for my girlfriend.”

The saleswoman nodded. “What do you think she’d like?”

He scanned the room again. “Something pretty.” God, he sounded like a moron.

“Well then, you’ve come to the right place.” She led him around, pulling flimsy things off the rack, one after another, but nothing seemed quite right. It all screamed fuck me, and that wasn’t what he was looking for, not today anyhow.

“I was thinking of something that was beautiful and feminine.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe not so blatantly sexy.”

“Something that tells her you want her heart as much as her body.”

He nodded.

“She’s lucky to have you. Most young men don’t come in here with that in mind.”

“That’s nice of you to say, but I’m the lucky one.”

She smiled. “I have just the thing.” She took him over to a section in the back of the store, and held up two outfits, one ivory, and the other a color that was sort of pink, sort of peach. Wisp, the saleswoman called it.

Wisp. The panties were made from lace and silk, held together by a satin ribbon on each side. If you pulled on the ribbons, the panties would fall right off. He didn’t need a saleswoman to explain how that worked, and he got hard imagining Cassie in those panties, with him tugging on the ribbons, watching the lace slide down her legs. The top was made of the same fabric, with ribbons laced up the front. His mouth tasted like mothballs, and the moisture was beading at the back of his neck.

He pointed to the set in her left hand. “I’ll take it.”

After pulling out his credit card, he thought better of it, and made the purchase with cash, hoping he might avoid reading about it in tomorrow’s paper. The press hounded him about his personal life, turning meaningless dates into romances. They’d have a field day if they knew he’d bought lingerie, and they wouldn’t stop until they traced it to Cassie, and then all hell would break loose.

“I think she’ll love it,” the woman assured him.

He knew she’d love it, but not as much as he’d love seeing her in it. “Do you ship?”

“Yes, of course. Here’s a card to enclose, if you’d like.”

* * *

Smiling, Cassie opened the package from Boston—Gee, I wonder who this is from? Satin and Lace was scrolled on a cream-colored box in swirly black font. She pulled off the lid and lifted out the card.

Cassie, This reminded me of you—of the first time we made love. You were wearing underwear that was just this color, and thinking about it now makes me ache to touch you. It was beautiful, almost as beautiful as you. This isn’t for today, or tomorrow, or even next week, but I hope one day, when you’re ready, you’ll wear this for me. I want to see how gorgeous you make this pretty lingerie look. I love you—D

Cassie clasped the card to her heart before opening the tissue paper and lifting the camisole and panties out of the box. For as long as she could remember, she’d loved lingerie, loved everything about it. While Drew had indulged many of her whims when they were together, this was the first time he’d bought her lingerie. She turned the pieces over, admiring every detail, smiling at the satin ribbons holding the panties together. The set was exquisite, and just the right size.

Tears welled up, not sad tears, but hopeful tears, as though maybe she had a real chance for a full, happy life, as though maybe their love had another chance.

She’d been hiding since the diagnosis. First she hid her body, and then she hid the fears that visited regularly, taunting her when she was alone at night. Later, she ran to Baltimore and hid here, too. Hiding had become a coping mechanism, a way of life, protecting her battered ego from any more rejection.

She ran her hand over the silky fabric—she was through hiding, especially from Drew.

But the only way forward was to share everything with him, and for him to share everything with her. She needed to show him her scars, the ones on the outside, as well as the ones on the inside—there simply was no other choice.

She sighed and picked up her phone.

“I’m sorry to bother you, I know you’re busy…”

“Never too busy for you.”

“Your package just came. The lingerie is gorgeous.”

She could hear a little hmm on the other end of the line that made her smile.

“I’m happy you like it. I don’t want to rush you—well, mostly, I don’t want to rush you,” he chuckled. “I’m going to push you, even when I don’t mean to. I can’t help myself. But you need to know that I want you to set the pace. We’ll build a relationship on your terms.”

“On our terms.”

“On our terms,” he repeated softly. “Us, building something together. I like the sound of that.”

“I’ve been thinking about coming to Boston on Saturday after the bakery closes, maybe stay through Monday. I know the Blues are home this weekend. Are you around for dinner?”

“I need to be at the park for the games, but otherwise I’m around every minute you want me. Stay with me.”

“I don’t…”

“In my guest room. I promise I won’t pressure you, but I can’t promise I won’t look at you with puppy dog eyes, silently begging for a belly rub.”

She laughed softly. “I’m leaving my new lingerie at home this weekend. I was hoping we could talk, so I can finish telling you about everything that happened while we were apart, and you can tell me everything you went through. Not just the details and the facts, but how I felt, how you felt during that time. I think we have to do this. Our experiences were significant, and they’ve changed us.”

She took a deep breath. “Once we’ve cleared the path forward, I’ll be ready to put on these beautiful things for you, and for me too, and I hope you’ll be ready to help me slip them off.”

His groan was low and rough, rumbling from somewhere deep, deep in his chest. “Ready? I’ve barely been able to think of anything else since I first set eyes on them.”

13

He met her inside the terminal, standing behind a thick column so she wouldn’t see him while he watched her come down the escalator. Then, following closely on her heels while she made her way toward the exit, he grabbed her bag from behind at the first opportunity.

She stopped cold, turned, and then smiled when she realized it was him. It wasn’t just a simple smile, it was one that appeared to engage every pore, every cell, one that began in her heart and completed itself in her soul.

She stood on tiptoes and nipped his bottom lip before soothing it with a tender kiss. “I think you’ve done this to me before.”

He was so happy she’d come to Boston, his chest was about to explode, and from the way she greeted him, it seemed she had no regrets about making the trip either. And he fully planned on keeping it that way. Winding his arm around her waist, he kept her close while they made their way to the parking lot. More than a dozen people stopped him, offering congratulations on the afternoon’s game. A few even asked about the lineup for the next day’s game, as though he might reveal it in passing while in the middle of the airport.

“Let’s go this way, fewer Boston fans. How was the flight?”

“Easy, so easy.”

“Yup. Easy, peasy.” One obstacle checked off.

“I heard you guys won before we even deplaned. It was a forty-five-minute flight, but the pilot kept updating us—can you believe that? What is it with Boston fans?” She shook her head.

“Best fans in the world, and the toughest. Unlike Yankee fans, who are a bunch of cream puffs.” He hip-checked her while both they chuckled at the absurdity of the statement.

“Hmmm. A jeep? I would have guessed some sleek little number where the roof rolled back.”

“I’ve owned one of those. Too flashy and impractical.”

“People recognize you everywhere, huh?”

“In Boston, it’s a high-profile job. Everyone’s always trying to tell me what I need to do to get the team on track, or they’re trying to persuade me to tell them what I might do next. That, and I’m related to my brothers.”

“Not to mention you made Boston Magazine’s list of hot and eligible men, again.”

“Yeah, right.” He shook his head.

“Hey, I read the papers like everyone else.”

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to believe everything you read? I’m not hot… Okay, I’m hot,” he teased. “But I’m not eligible. Someone already has my heart, and she’s had it for more than a decade.”

She looked up at him through long, dark lashes.

“Just stating the facts.”

“You’re not going to make this easy?”

“Nope. I’m a determined guy, and I don’t give up easily. Especially where you’re concerned. And I’m warning you, when I put my mind to something, when my focus narrows and intensifies, I always get my way. Always. It’s the combination of my hotness and my boyish charm,” he teased, reaching over the console and gently tugging on the neat ponytail she’d fastened with a tortoise shell barrette. A small action that went a long way in lightening the ferocity of his words.

He pulled into the underground parking lot of a swanky high-rise apartment building.

“Before we get to the heavy stuff, I thought maybe we could have dinner tonight, somewhere fun. I don’t want your first trip to visit me bogged down in angst. I want some happy times for you to remember too, so you’ll come back again.”

“Drew, we need…”

“Oh yeah, we definitely need to talk about everything, and we may not get it all done this weekend. But I want to spend a little time building a foundation for the future, too. You game?” He cradled her cheek.

“A little fun sounds like a great idea.”

* * *

After he grabbed her bag from the back, they took the elevator up to the top floor.

“You live in the penthouse?”

He shifted from foot to foot, looking everywhere but at her, seeming sheepish about the extravagance. “The view over the city is unbelievable. You can see the ballpark and the harbor. I couldn’t resist. Why are you smiling?”

“The guy I knew wouldn’t have cared about the view.”

“The guy you knew always cared about the view.” She knew he wasn’t talking about the ocean or the skyline, and it made her face burn. Even though she wasn’t fair-skinned, and most people didn’t notice, he always knew when she blushed, and rarely let it go without comment. Maybe today would be different.

“Your ears are pink,” he teased, elbowing her playfully. “And it took so little effort.”

She pretended to swat him. Yes, the man who had explored her body for hours on end, the man whose body she knew almost as well as her own, made her blush with a silly comment. This promised to be quite a weekend.

His apartment was polished but masculine, with a tartan plaid throw folded neatly over one end of an enormous leather sectional strategically positioned so everyone who sat on it could have an unobstructed view of the giant screen on the wall. Oversized chairs with ottomans, a square coffee table, and what looked like a bar in the far corner of the room completed the décor. It wasn’t hard to guess the room’s main purpose.

“I’d bet you’ve entertained more men here than women.”

“You’d win that bet. I wanted to put a regulation pool table right where the never-used dining table sits, over there. There’s a light above it and everything—it would have been perfect. But when I suggested it, Lainey and Ella acted like I’d dripped on the toilet seat and hadn’t bothered to wipe it up.”

“I bet they did,” she laughed, moving over to the bank of windows. “The light must pour in here.”

“This room catches the morning sun. It’s another thing I love about this place. I can walk to work, too, which is a huge bonus. Some days it’s the only quiet time I can carve out for myself. There’s Blues’ Park,” he pointed out one of the floor to ceiling windows.

Taking her hand, he pulled her away from the panoramic view of the city. “I’ll show you the rest of the place. I want you to make yourself at home.” And one day I hope it will be your home.

“This is…”

“You still play?” She asked, moving over to the drums, the focal point of the room, and running her hand over the smooth cymbals.

“Mm-hm. This room was another big seller for me. The previous owner was into some—well, let’s just say he needed a soundproof room.”

Her eyes widened when he winked at her with a wolfish grin.

“I guess playrooms aren’t just in E. L. James’s imagination. If there’s time this weekend, will you play for me?”

“For you, or on you?”

She swallowed hard, remembering that lazy Sunday afternoon at Brown when he’d skillfully used his drumsticks to coax music from her.

“Either way, I’d love to,” he said catching her eye before leading her to another light-filled room. “This is the guest room.”

There was a cut crystal vase with a single white rose by the bed, and the body cream she loved.

“The bathroom’s through there.” She peeked in and saw her brand of shampoo and conditioner on a shelf in the shower, and a pretty silk robe hanging from an ornate hook on the wall.

“I picked up a couple of things you like. That way you don’t have to drag everything with you when you visit. I want you to be comfortable here.”

“Drew.” Her heart was long past ready to leap out of her chest when she turned and jumped into his arms. “We’re getting way ahead of ourselves, but I don’t care.” She found his mouth, and there was nothing careful or gentle about her kiss. He moaned softly, parting her lips with his tongue, tasting her. Forcing himself away only when they needed to breathe.

“We should—I should—I need to get in the shower before I do something I promised I wouldn’t do this weekend.”

“I kissed you.”

He cocked his head slightly to the right with his dimple on full display. “So you did.”

* * *

He stood alone in the shower, with an erection as thick and hard as it had ever been. This weekend might just do him in. He soaped himself up and took the edge off. Otherwise the promise he’d made would be out the window, and they’d never make it out to dinner, or anywhere else, for that matter.

But more importantly, they wouldn’t say the things they needed to say so they could rebuild their relationship. And for that, he was willing to endure any amount of discomfort, even if it meant his balls were going to fall off if it went on too much longer.

* * *

Her body was still humming from his kisses, and her panties were damp. Natural occurrences for most young women, but the Tamoxifen sometimes got in the way of a young body’s normal reactions, and things didn’t always go according to script. If that happened, she’d deal with it—no, they’d deal with it.

She wanted to make love with him, plain and simple. God, did she want that. But first they had work to do. Hard work, emotional and gut-wrenching work. Maybe she should have stayed in a hotel, where the temptation wasn’t two doors down, standing under the pulse of the shower, soapsuds sliding down every inch of his hard body. His hands gliding over skin where hers ached to be.

There hadn’t been a day since he walked into Lola’s that she hadn’t fantasized about making love with him, hadn’t imagined running her tongue over the deliciousness, feeling him quiver and throb. But it was only in the past week that she was ready for the reality of him, ready to share her reality, and somehow being in Boston, in his apartment, had made her long past ready.

She threw on a short skirt with a sleeveless top secured by tiny jeweled buttons, and wound a light scarf at her neckline, adding a pop of color and a little panache. Sandals, a pair of dangly earrings that brushed against her neck when she moved, and a bevy of bracelets completed her look. She felt like a schoolgirl primping for a date with the most popular boy at school.

* * *

“You look nice,” he said, thinking about what she might be wearing under her little skirt. It was a habit he’d picked up in college, almost like a game, guessing what she was wearing against her skin. Didn’t matter if she had on the grungiest jeans or a buttoned-up business suit, there was always something special, some hidden treasure for him to find. And more than a few times, she’d surprised him by wearing nothing at all.

“Are you up for Asian food?

“I’m so up for that.”

“There’s a restaurant in the Back Bay, it’s real casual, but it’s going to blow your socks off.”

“Do they have dumplings?”

“Dumplings that’ll make your toes curl.”

“Well what are you waiting for? Take me.”

Take me. Dinner, dinner, dinner, she was talking about dinner. “They don’t take reservations, but I called, and they’ll save us a couple of seats at the counter in the back of the restaurant. We can watch them cook, plus no one will bother us back there. Is that okay?”

“Dinner and a show with you. What could be better?” She brushed her hand over his cheek.

“We should get going.” His voice was like gravel, and if they didn’t leave now…

When they arrived, the restaurant was loud and crowded, but they made their way to the back and found the seats that had been saved for them.

“Drinks?” the waitress asked.

“Seltzer with lime, please.”

“I’ll have the same.”

They watched the waitress skillfully maneuver her way toward the bar. “You don’t drink anymore because of the cancer?”

She nodded. “I drink occasionally, but there’s good evidence that it’s better to keep alcohol consumption to a minimum. But that doesn’t mean you can’t drink. A beer goes down real smooth with Asian food.”

“I don’t need a beer, Cassie—I have you. That’s all I need, and more than I deserve.”

“I know you don’t need it, but if we’re going to make this work, if we’re committed for the long term. I can’t feel like you’re making sacrifices…”

“Foregoing a beer isn’t a sacrifice.”

“But it’s your normal behavior. I need you to be normal, so I can feel normal too. One of the most difficult things about telling people about the breast cancer was when they got all weird on me. Even close friends. Everyone had a different reaction, but mainly it was weird. It made them uncomfortable. I made them uncomfortable. Please don’t get weird on me,” she pleaded, in a voice barely above a whisper, almost a prayer.

The waitress placed their drinks on the counter in front of them, and they ordered dinner off the menu, stopping periodically to ask her about a dish the chef was preparing. “On your way back, would you bring me a Tsing Tao beer, please? No rush.”

Cassie smiled and cupped the side of his face, and he rested his hand on hers, entwining their fingers. “I know all about avoiding a subject because it makes other people feel uncomfortable. It was like that after my parents died. And I know what it’s like to have people give you long, pitiful looks. It sucks. I hated it.” He brought her hand to his mouth, placing a soft kiss on each of her knuckles. “I promise to try and not be weird about things, but I’m new at this. You may need to kick me in the ass every now and again.”

The waitress brought them a dish of fat little dumplings with golden, crispy skins. “These tiny suckers are amazing. Close your eyes,” he said, carefully lifting the plumpest dumpling off the plate with chopsticks, and giving it a quick dunk in the sauce.

“Close my eyes?”

“Yeah. Everything’s better with your eyes closed. Your sense of smell, and all the sensations on your tongue, will be heightened.”

She leaned toward him, resting a hand on his thigh. “Are we talking about dumplings? Because I remember that you liked me to keep my eyes open.”

His groan sent a shudder, a powerful surge through him that nearly dislodged the dumpling from the chopsticks and sent it toppling into her lap.

His throat bobbed, and he leaned closer to her. “We’ll try it both ways, first with your eyes open so I can watch you come apart, and then you’ll close them, and I’ll use my imagination when you begin to tumble…” He leaned in even closer. “But I’m not sure if I can trust you not to peek, we may need a blindfold to keep you honest.”

She gulped softly, and a small moan escaped from her lips.

He smiled. “Just remember, I’m not the one who keeps steering the conversation in that direction. Now close ‘em,” he commanded, bringing the juicy morsel to her mouth.

“Mmmm,” she moaned again. “It’s delicious.”

* * *

When she opened her eyes, he was gazing at her through heavy lids, a look she’d seen so often she’d recognize it anywhere. She also knew exactly what came after that look, and it made every inch of her flesh burn.

They shared several small plates, alternating between feeding each other and feeding themselves, until neither could eat another bite.

“Are you game to walk off some dinner? It’s a good distance back to my place, but we can find a cab when we get tired of walking.”

“I’d love to walk. I haven’t spent a lot of time in Boston—it’ll give me a chance to get a feel for the city.”

“Boston feels more like a small town than a city to me. And when the Blues are on a losing streak, it can feel too small.”

“Tell me about how the team’s doing. I read the papers, but what’s the real scoop?”

“Can I trust you not to call the Yankees’ front office?”

“Since you fed me such an amazing dinner, I think so.”

He dragged her in, tight against him. “Sounds like you can be bought easily, too easily. Never knew that about you.”

She wondered if she’d overstepped. If maybe he didn’t want to tell her about the team, shouldn’t tell her. “I didn’t mean to put you in an uncomfortable position. I completely understand about team secrets.”

“I was teasing. I don’t need to keep secrets from you, Cassie. I trust you implicitly, and, to be honest, it’s nice to have someone to bounce stuff off. Someone who’s not too close to the action, but who’s smart, with good judgment.”

“I’m all ears, anytime you need a sounding board. I’m honored you’d think I’m up for the task.”

“More than up for it.”

He squeezed her hand. “The Blues are a young team, with a boatload of talent, and a lot of heart, but we’re still waiting for leaders to emerge. Although Joe Jacowski, Ski, is a very experienced manager who knows more about team building than anyone I’ve ever met, and he gets the best from his young players. Hiring him was the best move I’ve made since I’ve been here. We may not be playoff contenders this year, but next season will be a totally different story.”

He pulled her closer. “We’re not too far now. You still okay to walk?”

“Yes. Look,” she said tugging him across the street. “Satin and Lace, that’s where you got me that gorgeous lingerie.”

“Mm-hm. It’s where the robe’s from too. I also picked up a couple of other things in there.” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

“Really?”

“They sell a few other sexy things, besides lingerie.”

“Will we need the soundproof room?”

He threw his head back and laughed. “Not for this stuff.”

She looked in the widow, hoping to get a peek of what else he might have picked up. “They have some beautiful things—maybe I’ll check it out tomorrow while you’re at work.”

“Aren’t you coming to the game?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it. But I don’t need to be there as early as you do. I might do a little shopping on my way over to the ballpark.”

14

As soon as they got back to his place, she slipped off her shoes and curled up on one end of the sofa facing him, and he sat smack in the middle, tucked into the elbow.

He knew she was going to tell him every last thing that had happened to her while they were apart. Everything that she hadn’t already told him, and he could tell she was anxious to get it over with. That’s how she was, she ruminated some, but once she made up her mind she went full steam ahead.

She’d indulged him, and herself, with dinner, but he knew he was about to hear things he didn’t really want to hear right before bed, things that would keep him up and give him nightmares. And when he woke up in a cold sweat, he’d be alone, because she wouldn’t be lying in his arms tonight offering comfort. And that’s how it needed to be.

“You’re humming.” He slid closer to her and lifted her legs onto his lap, massaging one calf down to her Achilles tendon and then the other. “We can do this tomorrow.”

“I’ve kept this from you for too long. I don’t want it between us anymore.” She smiled, not a happy smile, but a lost, tentative curl.

“I was scared, so scared when the doctor called me with the results, and everyone around me was terrified, too. And anyone who wasn’t terrified was horrified. They’d say things like, ‘It’s all going to be fine, you’re going to beat this,’ or ‘there are advances made every day in the field.’ But the look on their faces said something different, something very different. Even the medical people.”

Her legs were still on his lap, and although he kept working his fingers into the muscles, they were getting tighter and tighter.

“Reece had just left on a two-week cruise. She’d used some of her signing bonus to take her mother on the trip of a lifetime. Even if I could have reached her, I wouldn’t have tried. So I kept my feelings to myself, tried to shut them down, to control them, because I didn’t want to freak everyone out more than they already were. Especially my parents.”

He glanced down, Jesus! His overzealous massaging had left angry red imprints all over her legs. She hadn’t even noticed. With gentle strokes, he tried to soothe the inflamed skin.

“Cancer is a grim word—we associate it with death, even though there are plenty of survivors. People I’d known my whole life began to avoid me, and I know it was mostly because they didn’t know what to say. Others began to separate from me because they were sure I was dying. I found myself comforting my friends, my parent’s friends. On top of everything else, it was exhausting.”

She burrowed further into the corner of the huge sofa, letting the frame fully support her small body. “One day I was healthy as a horse, and the next everyone was treating me like I was sick. Like I’d always be sick … until I died.”

“You’re not sick now, Cass.”

She shook her head. “It seemed like all I talked about for a year, all I did, was cancer-related. It was my whole life. How depressing is that? I tried to keep a positive attitude, because it’s vital to recovery. At least that’s what everyone kept telling me. Positive thoughts will help you survive.

“But in the beginning I was afraid, deathly afraid, especially late at night, when doubts would creep in and I’d be too tired to push them away. I’d imagine myself lying in a casket surrounded by a sea of floral arrangements lined up in tiers, or buried underground, until I could barely breathe. I had this reoccurring nightmare where I was trapped in a casket, and they were shoveling dirt over my body, and I was pounding until my hands bled, screaming, ‘I’m alive, I’m alive.’ But no one could hear me.

“There were days when I didn’t let myself fall asleep until the sun began to peek through my window, as though the daylight would save me. Eventually the surgeries, and the worst of the treatment ended, and I began to heal and get stronger. I could eat breakfast, shower and get dressed without stopping to rest in between.”

He pulled her onto his lap because he couldn’t take it anymore, and he didn’t want her to see the tears that were about to spill down his cheeks.

“I worked with a therapist, went to a support group for young survivors, and learned how to meditate.”

“Meditate, huh?” he said gruffly, struggling mightily with the emotion.

“My peaceful place, the place I’d always go when I meditated, was Meadows Shore. To the night we sneaked down to the beach with a blanket and made love on the sand, hidden by the seawall while the moon made shadows dance on the water. The sound of the waves lapping on the shore lulled me to sleep so many nights. That and your warm breath on my skin, your strong arms cocooning me, keeping me safe while I slept.”

He tightened his grip on her. “You’re safe now, baby. I won’t let anything hurt you.” Except cancer, I can’t do a fucking thing about the cancer.

“When I packed up your room after you left Brown, I kept one of your T-shirts. I never washed it. When I got sick, I slept with it near me so often that eventually my smell was mixed with yours.”

His head was about to explode. What a poor excuse for a man he was, a goddamn failure—she’d needed him desperately, and he hadn’t been there for her. His heart was crumbling again. Since she’d told him about the cancer, it had broken so many times that there had to be pieces missing. Large chunks that could never be put back in place.

“After my final reconstruction surgery, I celebrated by getting drunk and picking up a guy—a complete stranger, in a bar, and I had sex with him. I wanted to see if he’d notice, if he’d be repulsed. I wanted to try out my new body with someone who didn’t matter… After the love that was always part of even our edgiest sex, that one-night stand was the most dehumanizing experience of the whole ordeal. Like a capstone project, it was the culmination of every indignity, readying me for the next phase of my miserable life.”

“Cassie,” he pulled her tighter against his chest and rocked with her on the sofa until they both were breathing normally again.

“Then I went to work for my dad, and that’s when I met Ned. Some days I could scarcely believe a decent guy wanted me… You know the rest.”

Yeah, he knew the rest, but there was one more piece, one enormous piece. The elephant was still in the room, sprawled out in the corner, taunting him, taunting her, and taking up too much valuable space. He wanted it out, banished forever. Not just for him, but for her too.

“Cass?”

“Hmmm?”

“Will you let me see your breasts?” he asked quietly, and she tensed in against him. “You’ve shared so much with me tonight, please share the rest. Do it for both of us.”

They sat on the sofa, with her in his lap, for a good five minutes, maybe longer. It felt like five hours. Neither of them spoke, neither of them moved a muscle.

Then with unsteady hands, she began to fumble with the top button on her shirt. But her fingers were thick and heavy, and she was on the precipice of tears again.

“Will you let me help?” he whispered.

She nodded.

And with hands almost as unsteady as hers, he gently moved her to the plush rug in front of the fireplace, and he lay down beside her. Kissing her, caressing her face, her arms, and her back with shaky hands.

He met her eyes, and with her face awash in trust laced with fear, she nodded again.

His clumsy fingers finally freed the first small button, and his lips found hers. He captured her mouth again and again while each button was slipped from its tether. His tongue stole into her mouth, exploring, distracting, leading them both to a safe, familiar place.

He brushed his hand over her damp forehead. “Sweetheart, this isn’t a prelude to sex. It’s about getting comfortable together after a long time apart.”

She nodded, but he could feel her fear, smell it seeping from every pore.

She hadn’t been this scared the night he took her virginity, and more than a small part of him wanted to stop, button her shirt, and simply hold her for the rest of the night. Hold her for the rest of his life. Save her from the embarrassment, save himself from the pain. But their relationship wasn’t going anywhere until they’d moved past this difficult moment, and they were so close he could see daylight on the horizon.

Nothing about this was about the physical—it was all emotional. She needed to know that he wouldn’t reject her, and he needed to know he was a man, the man she needed. Her breasts had become the physical manifestation of all their fears, all their worries.

“Do you remember the first time we made love? When I promised to go slow, that I wouldn’t hurt you?”

She nodded. He was acutely aware that she hadn’t uttered a single word since he’d asked to see her breasts.

“Did I keep my word?”

She nodded again.

“I had no freakin’ idea what I was doing.” He kissed the bridge of her nose. “My self-control is better now, and I promise we won’t do anything that hurts you. Anything you don’t want to do. You stop me if it gets to be too much.”

Before he opened her shirt, he pulled his off. “We both need to get to know each other again. My body’s changed too.”

He gently pulled aside the fabric, and trailed barely-there kisses over her neck, moving slowly to her décolletage where it met the tops of her breasts. In no hurry, he allowed his tongue to linger, gliding over the tender skin until her hips lifted off the floor.

When she shrugged the shirt off her shoulders, signaling him to continue his exploration, he gasped at the intricate purple lace covering her breasts, gently tracing the contours, first with his finger and then with his tongue. He rested his index fingers over the tiny clasp in front, placing a small kiss there before meeting her eyes.

She nodded, her expression was becoming more relaxed, and he saw a faint light in her eyes beginning to break through the clouds.

His heart was beating so fast he was practically panting. Struggling to control his breath, he ran the point of his tongue over the sensitive skin surrounding the tiny clasp before freeing it.

He kept his eyes locked on hers while his fingers eased the clasp open. Deathly afraid of doing something that would hurt her, upset her.

When her bra fell open, he lowered his head to reach one beaded nub, and with a feather stroke, he circled his thumb around the other. Alternating between her mouth and her breasts, he lavished attention on every inch of flesh.

Tasting.

Lapping.

Arousing.

Soothing.

Her heart galloped wildly while he ran his tongue over the scars, accepting them, loving them the way he loved the rest of her. Her eyes were closed, but a small tear found its way out the corner and slid down her cheek toward her ear.

“Am I hurting you?”

Shaking her head, she finally spoke. “It’s numb there, around the scars. But your touch feels so good, so unbelievably good,” she whispered, arching her back slightly off the rug.

He pulled himself back to admire her—tousled hair, red, swollen lips, lying with him while he enjoyed her. The groan that escaped came straight from his belly. He felt the tightening in his groin, the contraction that pushed the rough sound up through his throat, propelling it into the air between them.

“Cassie, you’re beautiful. I can’t believe you’re here, like this, with me. If I’m dreaming, please don’t wake me. Don’t ever wake me.” He skimmed his fingers over her ribs toward her belly, remembering the promise he’d made earlier in the week. The one he’d reminded himself of ever since. They wouldn’t make love this weekend.

“I need to stop.” He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, and immediately saw the trepidation in her eyes. She began searching his face for answers, wondering if he wanted her. He took her hand and held it over his erection. “Can you feel the throbbing, feel the need?”

He brushed his lips over hers. “There’s your answer, sweetheart. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted you, if that’s even possible.”

The light was back.

She moved her fingers, massaging, rubbing his cock through the worn denim.

For a minute he forgot all about promises, all about cancer, and pushed himself into her eager hand. God, it felt so good. With a low growl, he grabbed her hand and brought it to his mouth, caressing the smooth skin. “Not tonight, sweetheart. We’re still getting comfortable again. I promised myself we’d be smart about this, careful.”

“Let me sleep in your arms tonight.”

He let his head fall back, giving his self-control a chance to kick in. “I can’t baby. I won’t be able to stop. We need to talk some more, I still need to tell you my stuff, and you need to tell me more. If we—it’ll get all jumbled, make everything more complicated. I don’t want to take any chances—you’re too important to me.”

They clung to each other, skin resting on skin, feeding the desire, and pushing his control to the outer limits.

He got up off the floor, and lifted her, carrying her to the guest room, where he laid her gently on the bed. “I love you, Cassie, too much to give in to the physical need. I want us to finish with the past so we never have to spend another night apart.”

He brushed her forehead with his lips and closed the door behind him.

15

He undressed and brushed his teeth. How the hell he was supposed to sleep tonight was way beyond him. Cassie was across the hall in whatever she slept in these days, and she wanted him, maybe as much as he wanted her.

Yanking back the comforter and sheets, he flopped into bed on his stomach. She was so beautiful, and despite how she saw herself, the cancer had taken a much bigger toll on her psyche than on her body.

And Cole was right. It was almost shocking how little her body had mattered to him, even while he stroked it. It was as though it was simply a vessel, the conduit from his heart to hers.

There was a light rap on the door, before it opened a crack. “Drew?”

He sat up. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” She opened the door wider, and came into the room wearing the thin silk robe he’d bought for her, and little, if anything, else.

She floated across the room, toward the bed. “I need to be here with you.”

He sucked in as much air as his lungs could hold. “Cassie if you get into my bed, we’ll make love. I could tell you that I’ll control myself, but it would be a lie.”

“I need you to make love to me. It’s been so long since anyone’s loved me in a way that makes me burn inside and out. That makes the world around me whirl, and then stop while I tumble off the edge. I want that again. I need it.”

When she dropped her robe to the floor, it was dark, but he could see the contours of her body.

She came to him naked.

He forced himself to breathe when she slipped into bed beside him. There was no way he was sending her away. No fucking way. What he wanted—oh, God—what he wanted. He ran a hand over his jaw, the stubble bristling against his palm, making him hyperaware of every nerve at attention, heightening every sensation, magnifying every touch.

“Are you sure this is what you want tonight? After everything you shared with me? It’s been an emotional night, baby. I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and regret this. I don’t want you to run away.”

If his dick hadn’t been so damn hard that it threatened to explode just from the movement of the sheet, it would seem like he was trying to talk her out of sex, like he didn’t want it.

Coward came a little voice from inside his head. All of a sudden, seemingly out of nowhere, he wasn’t sure if he could take the intensity of being inside her, of loving her, knowing that one day she might be taken from him long before either of them was ready.

No, no, no! He pushed the thoughts away, but not before his dick went completely limp. Something that had never happened before. Not in bed with a beautiful, naked woman, anyway. He pushed back the covers and got up, unsure of what he was doing or even where he was going. Finally, he moved toward the window in the far corner of the room, pulled open the shutter, and clung to the frame, bracing himself against his fears. With his back toward her, he gazed over Boston, hoping the familiar pulse of the city would calm him.

“You’re afraid.”

He didn’t respond.

“Drew?”

“Maybe.”

“Talk to me, Drew. Is it my body? Are you afraid of the cancer?”

“No. No, of course not.” He shook his head. “Your body’s beautiful—more beautiful than I remember. It’s filled out, curvier. I love it.” He continued to stare down at the city, and though he had an enviable view, he saw nothing. “Cancer’s not catching, Cassie. I’m not afraid of it in that way… But I am afraid it’ll come back and make you sick again.” His voice trailed off, leaving a faint echo in his ears.

“That it will kill me.”

“I don’t ever let myself think about that, Cass, never.” But that wasn’t exactly true. He had little control over those tortuous thoughts barging into his head uninvited, with the murderous shriek of impending doom.

“You need to, because it could. You can’t hide that fear away. You have to make some kind of peace with it if we’re going to have a chance at a future together.”

“I could walk out the door tomorrow and get hit by a car, or you could. I know that.”

She nodded, “Mm-hm.” He could see her reflection in the pane. “I get scared sometimes, too, but a lot less than I used to. You adjust over time, unless you bury the fear alive, and stoke it regularly. It’s no way to live.”

He turned to face her, and his heart stopped at beauty so raw, so pure, that a famed photographer or a master painter would trade their soul to capture it. She was sitting up, surrounded by white linen, and overstuffed pillows resembling puffy clouds. Dwarfed by the king-sized bed, she hugged her knees to her chest, with her dark hair flowing freely over her naked shoulders, the ringlets nuzzling her breasts. The moonlight cast a peaceful aura around her, softly illuminating her face. Despite the weight of their conversation, despite his anxiety, she was serene, basking in the muted glow. And it stilled him.

Without taking his eyes from her, he went to the edge of the bed and sat beside her, letting his hand skate over her hip to her thigh, where it lingered, resting on the smooth skin. “I’m sorry, Cassie, for adding to your troubles—for rehashing things you’ve already dealt with.”

“I’m not sorry, Drew. This is my life. I’ll have this discussion with anyone I get close to. I’m relieved we can be open about everything. It makes me optimistic about our future. And I’m happy, so happy, this conversation is with you.”

* * *

She placed a small kiss on his lips, finding them uncharacteristically cold and practically unresponsive. “What else are you afraid of?” she asked brushing her hand over his hair.

He said nothing.

“Drew?”

“I’m afraid I won’t step up in the way you need … that I won’t be the man you need, if you get sick again. I want to be him, more than I’ve ever wanted anything. But what if I fall apart again? Cass, that black hole I fell into when my parents died, there was no way I was crawling out of there alone. Not alive.”

When she leaned to kiss him, his wet lashes skimmed her face. “You won’t be alone,” she said, taking his hand. “You’ll have me, and you’ll have your family. As long as you’re willing to reach out, to grab the hand that reaches for you, you’ll get through it. Last time you shoved everything inside, pushed everyone away, even me. That’s why the hole seemed insurmountable.”

She began to weep softly.

“Cassie, baby, please don’t cry. I hate seeing you sad.”

“I’m not sad. I’m touched, so touched that you care enough about me to even have those thoughts.”

“I love you, Cassie, with everything I have, with everything I am.”

She believed him, she did, but she’d learned the hard way that love doesn’t always conquer all. There are enemies so big, so tough, that sometimes even a power as formidable as love hoists the white flag and hangs its head in defeat. “I need you to be honest with me. I know how much you love me. I have no doubts about that. None. But I also know this is hard, and there might be things to come that are harder. Things that aren’t pretty.”

“And finding me passed out in my own vomit was pretty? I couldn’t even undress myself. Giving me a shower, washing putrid-smelling chunks out of my hair, that was pretty? I’ll never forget how gentle and loving you were with me, toweling me off and dressing me in clean clothes, changing my sheets. Calling my family. In a hundred lifetimes, I could never repay you for taking care of me that day, and for the rough weeks that came before.”

“You don’t need to repay me. I did it freely, out of love, without expecting anything in return. And I don’t expect anything now, or ever. I don’t want you to give up the life you dream about because you feel like you owe me. What happened before has nothing to do with what’s happening between us now…”

She laid a hand on his thigh to draw strength from him, and then closed her eyes, fortifying herself before speaking. “I want you to take some time to think about what I’m about to ask you.” She used the grip on his leg to steady herself. “Even though you love me, do you feel like you need to walk away?”

“No! And I don’t need time to think about it. Not a single second.”

“Sometimes love isn’t enough.”

“Look at me.” He grabbed both her hands and pulled her toward him. “I don’t believe that—not about our love. And you don’t believe it either.”

“I know you think poorly of Ned for breaking off the engagement, but there’s no shame in it. I know everyone blames him, but I never did. Not really.”

“Cass.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “That’s because you’re a much better person than the rest of us.

“And while we’re on the subject of Ned, and speaking honestly.” He brushed her hair off her face. “I’ll be forever grateful that he left you—I’m sorry you were hurt, and you can call me a selfish prick, but it allowed you to come back to me. As for me walking away? Not a chance, girlfriend. Not a chance. I don’t think you have any idea how much I missed you, any idea of the depth of my love for you.”

“Then make love to me. Show me how much you missed me, how much you love me, and let me show you.”

* * *

He groaned, and in response, she raised her mouth and captured his, her lips insistent and demanding. Together they slid over the soft sheets until they met the pillow. Their tongues stroking and tangling, their hands exploring, skimming, lingering, relearning the rhythm of pleasure.

After a little while, she reached for something that she’d dropped on the nightstand before she’d gotten into bed. “I brought this.”

He thought he heard her voice wobble. “What is it?”

“It’s lubricant,” she whispered. “The Tamoxifen—it does things to your body.” She shook her head, “not to your body, to my body. It won’t hurt your body. We might need it.”

He definitely heard the wobble. “Is there anything else I should know before we make love? I don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart.”

She looked down, and he stroked her face, combing her silky hair through his fingers. “I haven’t been with anyone since Ned. It wasn’t always … comfortable. The Tamoxifen—you know that saying, use it or lose it?”

He nodded.

“Everything’s fine. My doctor recommended getting some … sex toys,” she croaked, “to make sure everything stayed healthy. I took care of myself that way, but this will be different. The toys I have are smaller than you, and my skin may be a little thinner than when we were together before.”

He framed her face. “I love you, Cassie. Thank you for trusting me enough to share that with me.” His lips teased hers, until all he could think about was pushing her off the edge while she trembled around him.

“You won’t need those toys any more, babe,” he assured her. “But maybe we should take a look together before you toss them. We might want to keep one or two for when I’m on a long road trip with the team.” He trailed kisses over her jaw until he reached her ear. “I’m imagining hot phone sex right now.”

She shuddered.

He brushed the hair back from her face. “I’m here to take care of you from now on, sweetheart. I’m going to take real good care of you. Everything else is just an add-on.”

Lowering his head, he flicked his wet tongue gently over her nipples until she was squirming under him, the soft curls rubbing against his erection, which was growing longer and harder by the second.

“You can love them the way you’ve always loved them,” she whispered.

“I’ll be right back, don’t move.” Opening the top drawer of his dresser, he retrieved a small bag and brought it back to bed with him. Then pulling a white votive in a glass jar from the bag, he set it on the bedside table and held a match to the wick, bathing them in candlelight. “Maybe it should be, but it’s not enough to feel you against me, to smell your arousal, to hear it. I want to be able to see you while we make love. The moonlight just isn’t enough.”

After lighting the candle, he pulled a small flask from the bag. “Oil from Satin and Lace.” He held it to her nose and let her inhale the seductive amber scent. “Turn over, baby.” She moved onto her stomach and he straddled her legs, balanced on his knees with his weight resting on his calves, he twisted her hair into a ponytail and tucked it over her shoulder and out of the way. After warming the oil in his hands, he worked it into her upper arms and shoulders. “Lift your arms over your head and make your body long for me, baby. Hang onto the edge of the mattress if you need to.”

His hands found her again, and his teeth nipped the tendons connecting her neck and shoulders. Her hips lifted off the bed, and he gently shifted his weight to hold her down. Nipping the back of her neck, he worked his hands in long sweeps over her back, his tongue trailing from the base of her spine to her neck. She shuddered under him.

His hands made their way to her bottom, taking a globe in each hand, he separated and kneaded the firm flesh, and she shuddered when the tender skin was exposed to the cool air of the room. Wiggling, she urged him closer to the needy spot between her legs.

“Not yet. Not until I’ve relaxed every muscle in your body. Except this one,” he said placing two fingers at the opening of her core. “That one will stay nice and tight, throbbing for a little while longer, and then we’ll relax it beyond anything you can imagine.”

He messaged her calves, swirling his tongue along the bottoms of her feet, massaging her Achilles with strong thumbs. Then he swept his hands in long strokes over her inner thighs until she was sure every bone in her body had dissolved.

“Turn over,” he commanded.

She obeyed him instantly, turning on her back, with her legs slightly parted, as if to lure him there.

His lips quirked, and he stole his tongue into her mouth, but he didn’t linger. “In good time,” he breathed. “Lift your arms over your head, again. That’s it, baby.” When she clutched the headboard, he nearly lost all control.

After swallowing her moans, he trailed kisses down her glistening skin.

Nipping.

Laving.

Kissing.

Again.

And again.

Her hips moved madly under him, as if hoping his cock would have a mind of its own and find its way into the throbbing heat. Grabbing one leg in each hand he slid down her body, and blew softly over the dark curls. His warm breath was cold against the hot mound, and shocked her skin. His mouth lavished all its attention on her inner thighs, his teeth branding the tender flesh while he held her still.

“OhGodOhGodOhGod, Drew. Please. Please.” She pushed against his hands, but he was so much stronger, and held her legs firmly in place.

Moving lower on the bed, he positioned her legs over his shoulders, lifting her slightly off the bed, completely open to him. He slid his flat tongue over the wet bundle of nerves and she screamed, a long, loud, piercing sound. “Is that what you need, baby?”

He pulled his mouth away, torturing her, torturing himself, waiting for an answer. But she only whimpered.

Wiggling her hips, she searched in vain for friction to soothe the ache. But he held her steady and open, making it impossible for her to satisfy the growing need. All the while he indulged himself with her smooth inner thighs, bestowing all his attention on the creamy, tender skin. Only when he was satisfied she’d waited long enough, did he run his pointed tongue from bottom to top over the swollen nub.

“Or is that what you need? he asked pulling away again.

“Yes!” she hissed.

He ran a finger over her core, wetting it, and dipped it inside the heat. Then he lowered his mouth, exploring her intimately, gliding his tongue over the center of the tight bud and then along the left ridge, where he knew she was most sensitive. She bucked hard, and he knew she was close. So very close.

Pulling his mouth away, he slid a finger in and out, caressing the inner wall, lowering his mouth again only when he was ready to slide in a second finger. In and out. In and out. With no familiar pattern for her to adjust to. He grazed his teeth along her clit, and gently sucked the sensitive nub until she shattered under him, screaming his name again and again. The Mormon Tabernacle Choir’s rendition of the “Halleluiah Chorus” never sounded so joyful. He lapped lightly, until the contractions were barely perceptible on his tongue.

And only then did he reach in his bedside table for a condom, rolling it over himself in one quick, easy motion.

He took her hand and brought it between her legs, “I think you’re plenty wet for me.”

She gave him a modest look, but there was nothing shy about the way she grasped his shaft and guided it to her hot, wet opening. He pushed her hand away. “I won’t last like that, baby. Your hand feels too good on me.”

Easing into her slickness, inch by inch, his body quivered with tightly leashed passion. It was a moment suspended in time, one he was sure he’d never forget.

“Open your eyes, Cassie. Look at me. I want you right here with me, I want to share this with you.”

She was tight, and grasping at his hips, lifting hers, needing more, wanting more. Whimpering. But he stayed focused, forced himself to stay in control until he was completely buried inside her. His lips came down on hers, and her body arched pulling him deeper.

Soft tendrils, held in place by glistening skin, framed her face. “How do you feel, angel?”

“So good. So unbelievably good,” she panted, contracting her inner muscles around him. Tightening, gripping, massaging, until he was nearly insane.

He rocked his hips, stretching her, readying her for his thrusts.

* * *

Every nerve had leaped to the surface of her skin, standing more erect than the Queen’s palace guard, but unlike the stoic soldiers, they skittered and danced at the slightest urging. Her hips were moving against him of their own accord, swaying, and grinding into him with a singular purpose.

She knew he was at the precipice, too. Even after all these years, she knew. His muscles were beginning to contract, and he struggled for control, struggled to buy a few more seconds, a few more thrusts, more pleasure for them both.

“Look at me, Cassie, eyes open. I want to watch you come.” When he reached between them, she was so close, so sensitive, it took only one swipe of his callused fingertip against the swollen flesh to send her spiraling.

His body tightened, and his final frantic thrusts were merciless, pounding into her, dragging her over the edge with him. And while she soared, she heard her name thunder from him, echoing while he shuddered over her.

He held the condom in place with two fingers before rolling over with her on top of him. Gripping her tight to his chest, he stroked her arm. “Jesus! I can’t believe I almost sent you back to your own bed. You lost your chance, because that’s never gonna happen again.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Wait a second, before we have a spill.” He turned over, slid off the condom, tied it, and sent it flying across the mattress into a small trashcan at the foot of the bed.

After he snuggled her back down on him, they both immediately fell into a sound sleep. Her, because she didn’t want any unpleasant conversation to spoil the wonder of what had just happened between them, and him, because he couldn’t bear to be kept awake by thoughts that sent ice water through his veins.

16

Drew lifted the phone vibrating on the nightstand, and turned it over, scratching his head before running his hand down his face. Dominic Leonardo, head of security for the Blues. Great. “Hang on a second,” he whispered into the phone before moving to the bathroom, where he could talk without disturbing Cassie.

“Leo, what’s going on?”

“Nothing good.”

“I’ll take it straight up.”

“I got a call about an hour ago from the city police. Ski was in a bar in Charlestown, and got into an altercation with a couple of loudmouth, drunk kids.”

“Tell me he wasn’t drinking.”

“Can’t tell you that.”

“Shit.”

“Was he arrested?”

“Not yet. No one was injured. But it’s still unclear if any formal charges will be filed, and you can bet there’s someone who’ll be looking to make a few bucks on this.”

“Any chance we can keep this quiet?”

“Nah. Place was packed. Nowadays everyone and their mother’s got a phone, and even people who didn’t recognize him were snapping pictures to send to their friends. Sixty-year-old guy who can barely stand up taking swings at a couple of twenty-two-year-olds. What could be more entertaining?”

“Christ.”

“The only salvation is it happened too late for the morning papers. We might have a little time to do some damage control.”

“Where is he now?”

“Tucked in his bed, sleeping it off.”

“Will he detox?”

“Too early to tell. He says he hasn’t been boozing except for last night’s bender. But I wouldn’t take him at his word.”

“No, we can’t take the chance. Detoxing is serious. You may need to get him to McLean Hospital.”

“I called the team doctor to get over here and examine him. It might be enough just to have medical observation here. If he begins to deteriorate, we’ll call the ambulance. I think it’s the best way to handle this. Unfortunately, I’ve had plenty of experience with this kind of thing.”

“If you can get a doctor who knows what they’re doing there to examine him, that’s fine. Otherwise, get him to McLean. So we’re on the same page, I’m not taking any chances with his health just so we can save ourselves some embarrassment and a fine.”

“I’m with you.”

“Can you stay with him until I get there?”

“I’ll be here for the duration.”

“Thanks, Leo.”

* * *

After a quick shower, he threw on a pair of pants and a button-down shirt, all the while wondering if he should wake her, or let her sleep and leave a note. Sitting at the edge of the bed, he leaned over her and rested his hand on her arm.

“Mmmm,” she melted into his touch, making it harder for him to leave her.

“Cassie, I’ve gotta go. Something’s happened with the team. I’m sorry.”

She rolled over, forcing first one eye open and then the other. “S-okay.”

“No, it’s not okay, not after last night.” He ran his hand over her hair. “There’s nothing I’d like more than to wake up near you in the morning and make love again. But I have to go, there’s no choice. I’m not sure when I’ll be back, so you may need to entertain yourself for the rest of the day.”

She was wide-awake now. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me. Take care of what you need to, and take care of yourself. Call me when you can. Until then, I’ll be thinking about you.”

“I love you,” he whispered right before he placed a sweet kiss on her lips.

Her hand slid out from under the covers and cradled his jaw. “I’m here for you if you need anything. Whatever you need.”

After planting a small kiss on her fingers, he was gone.

* * *

It was the middle of the night, with few cars on the road. He stopped at a convenience store for coffee, one for himself and one for Leo. Knowing he’d be working a full day on just a couple hours of sleep, he filled the largest cup he could find.

The ride to Ski’s was short but lonely. He pressed a button on the console, hoping to get an update from Leo.

“Hey.”

“Anything new?”

“Doctor’s here.”

“About a month ago he told me he hadn’t touched a drink in more than thirty years. Was he telling me the truth?”

“Probably. It was Sarah’s birthday yesterday.”

“Fuck! I’d forgotten all about it.”

“Me too.”

“It’s not your job to remember.”

“It should’ve been on my radar, too.”

“I’m just pulling up—I’ll see you inside.” Christ, how had he let this happen? He’d been so preoccupied with Cassie and rebuilding their relationship that his head hadn’t been fully in the game. He slammed both hands on the steering wheel.

* * *

“It’s the best I could do,” he said handing Leo a hot cup of battery acid passing itself off as coffee.

“Thanks.”

“Anything new?”

“He’s less agitated and maybe a little more sober. The doctor’s still with him.”

Drew nodded. “You sure you can stick around?”

“Yeah. I’ve got a couple of guys trying to piece together the details from last night, and everyone else will get their marching orders when they get to work this morning. Team’s loaded with young kids, and most of them are good kids, but there’s a few who don’t always make the best decisions.” Leo shook his head. “My guys are on top of it.”

“I want to see him, and then I need to call ownership and start putting out fires.”

“It’s going to be ugly.”

“Yes, it is. But Ski’s the priority. Him, and pulling together the team,” he said as the doctor walked out of Ski’s bedroom.

“How is he?”

“He’ll be fine. I’ll continue to monitor his vital signs, but I think he just needs to sleep it off for tonight. In the next couple of days, we’ll put some services together for him.”

“Any sense of how long he’s been drinking again?”

The doctor shook his head. “Not yet. But if I were a betting man, I’d guess it hasn’t been long. I’m not even sure he had that much to drink tonight.”

Leo had just been listening up until now, “The bartender confirms that.”

“Grief mixed with even a small amount of booze is a potent cocktail.”

“Can I see him?”

“Go on in.”

Drew poked his head in the room. It was neat and tidy as a pin, and it had a woman’s touch all over it. Fussy bedspread, needlepoint hanging on the walls, sheer curtains with little ruffles at the edges. All a stark reminder that Sarah hadn’t been gone that long, and Ski hadn’t changed anything. While he listened to Ski snore softly, he wondered what made some people change everything after a spouse died, even move, while others kept everything exactly the same, as though waiting for their loved one to come back to the familiar surroundings. He gazed over the bed, knowing only too well that the search for peace and solace took many forms.

Ski opened his eyes and saw him standing in the doorway. His sixty-year-old manager looked like hell, but nowhere near as bad as he probably felt.

Drew walked over to the bed. “How are you, big guy?”

“I screwed up, I’m sorry.” His voice was hoarse, and his words were only slightly slurred.

Drew pulled up a chair. “We don’t need to talk about it now. I just came by to see how you’re doing. We’ll talk tomorrow when your head’s clearer.”

“They’re going to crucify me, and I deserve it. But they’re going to hang you out to dry, too. Don’t let them.”

“I’ve got big shoulders, and I’m not afraid of a bunch of whiny vultures swooping down to pick at my warm carcass.”

“I miss her.”

Ski closed his eyes to hold back the tears. Drew leaned over the bed and squeezed the older man’s hand. “I know. I’d forgotten about Sarah’s birthday. I’m sorry you went through it alone.”

“I can be at the game tomorrow.”

“No, you take tomorrow off. We’ve got you covered. We’re going to talk to the doctors and figure out what they recommend before we make any decisions about you coming back.”

“You firing me?”

Drew shook his head. “You're the best manager in baseball, and a good man. Nothing that happened tonight changes my feelings about those things, but you won’t be any good to the team until you get yourself in a better frame of mind.”

“What about ownership?”

“Let me worry about them.”

* * *

She heard nothing more from him that night, and there was nothing in the morning paper about a problem with the team, either. Hmmm, maybe it wasn’t serious enough to make the papers. But Drew’s ashen face popped into her head—whatever had happened was serious.

After slicing a banana into a bowl of cereal, she poured in a little milk and turned on the television in the kitchen. And there it was all over the screen. Every sordid detail.

The Blues’ manager had gotten into a drunken brawl the night before, swinging his fists and a bottle at a couple of disgruntled fans. Not only were there pictures, but someone had captured the illustrious moment on video.

Apparently the manager had a history of alcoholism. But they blamed Drew for the latest incident, laid everything at his feet, accusing him of being too young and immature to run a baseball franchise. They reported that he’d been distracted this year, and hadn’t been earning his paycheck. How dare they! Her heart clenched.

Unwilling to listen anymore while they piled on Drew, she turned the television off. This was her fault, at least in part. Not only had she been selfish, but she’d allowed self-pity and fear to turn her into a needy woman. He had responsibilities, huge responsibilities, but she allowed him to make all the sacrifices, bear the brunt of rekindling a long-distance relationship. And he’d done it without once complaining, because he’d been afraid of losing her. He’d gone above and beyond, while she’d done very little except wring her hands.

The one lesson she’d learned from cancer was that there was no time like the present to make changes to your life, to make amends. From now on she’d do the heavy lifting, at least until the season ended. She could do this for him, for them. With Tim baking now, she could be in Boston more and still manage Lola’s. She needed to figure out how to be here for him and take care of her other responsibilities, too.

Drew was everything she wanted in life, everything she deserved. But Lola’s was important, too. Vitally important.

* * *

Nothing in the morning papers, but rumors were leaking out all over the city. Leo phoned to tell him not to turn on the local news. Drew called an emergency team meeting for mid-morning.

He hated asking the players to come in early, to step out of their routine, but there was no choice. There was not a group on earth more routinized and superstitious than baseball players. Their rigid routines added predictability to a very long season, half of which was spent away from home, and the superstition explained any result that deviated from the predictable.

Today’s early meeting would upset the applecart, and if they lost tonight, everyone in the clubhouse would believe the meeting was to blame. But they were all addicted to social media, and he couldn’t afford to have them learn the details of last night and stew all day about the fate of the manager. It was too unsettling, even for seasoned players, and these guys were hardly seasoned.

He talked to them in the locker room rather than the meeting room. It was a more intimate space, and it belonged, almost exclusively, to them. Being on their turf would help them regain some sense of control, and should make everyone more comfortable.

Leo warned him Ski’s phone had been going off all morning, calls from the press, players, and a variety of others from around the league. He needed to lay out the hard truth for these guys. They deserved nothing less. “I’m sure you’ve all heard the rumors about Ski.”

Except for the sound of big bodies breathing, the room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

“Ski’s not going to be at the game today. And probably not tomorrow. JD will be managing the team until he’s back.

“You’re going to hear that he was drunk as a skunk, and took a swing at some guys who called you a bunch of no-talent bitches. It’s all on video, so prepare yourselves.”

Nearly every cuss word ever spoken filled the air.

“Don’t get your panties all in a twist, ladies. It was nowhere near as bad as the stuff the guy said about Ski, or about me.”

He studied the room, trying to meet as many eyes as possible. “We need to pull together. We don’t share the same DNA, but we’re family here. You just lost your manager, and I know it’s a lot to ask, but I need you to step up. Every one of you.”

“Why didn’t you ask him to step up? He had no trouble turning his back on us last night.” Tommy James, of course. Who better to throw the first stone than a self-righteous, all-around pain in the ass who was more than happy to throw back a few drinks himself. In season, or off.

“I know this feels mighty personal, like your manager abandoned you, but what happened last night wasn’t about you.”

“No, he didn’t give us a second thought while he was tipping back the bottle and acting like an old fool. I don’t see how you can give him another chance, or expect us to give him one either.”

Drew ignored him this time, no sense in engaging with a blowhard. It never ended well. “How many of you have had experiences with alcoholism? A family member, a friend, a teammate?” About two-thirds of the hands in the room went up.

“How many of you have lost someone you cared about, someone you loved?”

“From the booze?”

“From anything.”

Nearly every hand in the room shot up.

“Most of you know Ski’s wife, Sarah, died about a year and a half ago. Anyone who’d ever spent any time around them knew how crazy they were about each other. They’d been married for thirty-three years. Longer than any of us have been alive.” He paused to give his words some time to sink in.

“It would have been Sarah’s birthday yesterday, and Ski spent it alone, wondering how they would have celebrated if she’d been alive. Blaming himself, because on the day she died, he left for the ballpark after she’d complained of a headache.”

He was on the verge of talking about something he never talked about outside of his family. Something he wasn’t sure he wanted to share, today, with them. But with twenty-five sets of eyes locked on him, waiting for him to say the right thing, to do the right thing by them, just as he’d promised on the day they’d signed, he didn’t see that he had much choice but to open up, put his weakness on full display.

A team was like a family, and when there was a problem, when one of its members was in trouble, everyone needed to man up. And right now, it was his turn.

“My parents died unexpectedly when I was in college. My aunt and uncle, who lived next door, died with them. After the numbness lifted, a thick layer of grief covered every inch of my soul, choking me, pulling me a little closer to hell each day, until I began to welcome death, hoping it would end my misery.”

He’d just shared something about himself that he’d told no one but his therapist years ago. It was unnerving, but he had to finish. “You can’t begin to imagine the pain of profound sorrow, the bleakness of unyielding depression, until you’ve experienced it for yourself. I was lucky, because I had my family and friends to help me. They held out their hands, and when I wasn’t strong enough to hold on, they held on to me.

“They gave me a chance. And I promised myself that if I were ever in a position to grab someone who was sliding into that black hole, I would. That’s why I have it in me to look past this incident with Ski.”

He finally took in a full breath “And I’m asking you to give him a chance, too. I can’t make you do it. It’s not in anyone’s contract. But I had a hand in hiring most of you, and while I don’t claim to know what’s in your heart, I know about your character. I know what kind of men you are, because it’s what I cared most about when I was assembling the team.”

Silence accompanied Adam’s apples bobbing up and down, shifting, squirming, and the sounds of throats clearing. Finally, someone spoke.

“My little sister died when I was fifteen. I was in a world of hurt, so much that I started cutting myself.” The scrappy shortstop lifted his arms, displaying the scars on his wrists and inner forearms. “I was so numb, it was the only thing that made me feel.”

Dozens of pairs of eyes glanced at the scarred arms and darted away, unable to face the grim thought that someone like Sully, a mega-talent, a loyal friend and teammate, could have mutilated himself. But if that’s what they were thinking they didn’t have much time to ponder before the next voice spoke up. Josh Arrighetti.

“For a year after my mom died, I drained every bottle of booze I could get my hands on. I drank before school, after school, during school. I was thirteen.” All eyes were trained on the normally quiet-spoken center fielder. “My dad was in too much pain to notice. All his energy went into wrestling with me for what was left in the bottom of the bottle. A janitor at school caught me drinking in the bathroom between classes, and instead of turning me in, he took me in. Put a baseball bat in my hand and taught me how to take out all my anger, all my frustration, on a little white ball.”

“We need a team meeting, just the players, and we’ll let you know how it pans out,” came a voice from the back of the room. It was Mikey Torres, a shy guy who seemed to prefer video games to human interaction. Probably not the person Drew would have chosen to lead a team meeting. But sometimes people surprised you.

After about forty-five minutes, four young men were in his office. “We’ve made a unanimous decision to stand behind our manager. We need you and JD to come back into the locker room and talk to us about how it’s going to work with the media and shit.”

They were a young, scruffy quartet, but it looked like the team had found its leaders.

17

The storm began midday. It started with howling wind, then the sky turned pitch black and the heavens opened, dumping a deluge over Boston. Drew studied the radar map—not a dry minute in sight until well past two a.m. Thank you, God! He’d hang around and wait for the game to be officially called, but it was a mere formality, saving him from the distasteful task of facing the press today.

Reporters had been calling all day, but he took no calls, and he made just one.

“Hey, Cass.”

“How are you holding up?”

“I’ve had better days, and I’ve had worse. No one died. Not yet, anyway.”

“Low bar.”

“When you’re responsible for a team of young, hormone-fueled athletes, low expectations make for a more contented life. How’d you hear?”

“Television.”

“Local channel?”

“ESPN.”

He groaned. “O-kay. The game’s been called, but I’ll still be late. I’ve got a lot of work to do with the communications people, and I need to be involved with the game planning for tomorrow. I’m sorry your first weekend in Boston ended up being a bust.”

“Don’t be. I’ve got a pretty amazing memory to take home with me.”

“And what would that be?”

“The dumplings, of course. They were outrageous.”

“Ouch!” He laughed for the first time all day. “There might have been one or two other high points. Don’t you think?”

“One or two? Speak for yourself.”

“I’d give anything to be home with you right now exploring more of the high points. I miss you.”

“I’ll be here when you get back.”

“My schedule for the next couple of days is going to be brutal, and I hate to see you hanging around with nothing to do. Maybe you should change your flight, and go home tonight.”

“It’s Boston, I’m pretty sure I can find something to do. But you’re under a lot of pressure. Do you want me to leave? Would that make your life easier?”

“Do you want the nice guy to answer, or the selfish prick?”

“The selfish prick, please.”

“I never want you to leave.”

She smiled. “You do what you need to do, then. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

* * *

He sat with the communications and public relations specialists for two hours, and wasn’t happy with a thing they’d come up with. They were heading down the wrong path as far as he was concerned, and he was getting antsy listening to one bad suggestion after another.

Texts and emails of support had come pouring in from his brothers, cousins, and from friends all across Boston and the league. But what he needed was to take the temperature of Blues’ nation, to hear what the faithful were thinking. It would help him formulate a media plan for after tomorrow’s game, when he’d be forced to explain the actions of their manager. But the more time passed, the more he thought about it, the less he felt like long-drawn out explanations were the way to go.

“We’re chasing our tails now, accomplishing nothing. Let’s break for the night, meet back here at seven tomorrow morning. Nothing gets released until then.”

The perky public relations woman with little black wings painted on the outside corner of her eyes spoke up again. “If we want to get a press release in tomorrow’s paper, we need to get it out by midnight tonight.”

“Nothing goes out tonight. And I’m not convinced a press release is how we should handle this situation.”

“But…”

“Seven tomorrow morning. I’ll let you know if I have an epiphany sooner.”

“Will ownership be on board with this?”

Normally, he didn’t mind being second-guessed. Once or twice it had even kept him out of hot water. But she’d been a huge pain in the ass all day, and now she was publicly questioning his judgment and his authority to make decisions. He’d had a total of two and a half hours’ sleep last night, and was running on fumes. As far as he was concerned, she was sitting on two strikes. So he did what any experienced catcher would do under these circumstances and called for an inside curve ball, one that would make her back off the plate, not just tonight, but forever.

He looked directly at her, and spoke in a tone that sent the temperature of the room plummeting. “Putting a spit shine on bullshit is your job, everything else is mine. Nothing about this situation goes out tonight, or ever, without my explicit approval. Nothing. If anyone has a problem with that, I’m accepting resignations.”

No one said another word. “See you at seven. I’ll pick up breakfast for everyone on my way in.” He left the room, and headed directly to the parking lot.

Now he needed to spend a few hours getting this straight in his mind.

He knew what he wanted to say, but first he’d see if he was all wet. Fortunately, he knew two places where die-hard fans hung out, and where he could get a fair sampling of opinions.

After a beer at the VFW with a group of salt of the earth guys, and then a round of pool with the kick-ass firefighters in Somerville, he had solidified his plan. Now all he wanted was to crawl into bed, curl himself around Cassie, and sleep for a hundred years.

The apartment was quiet, but she’d left him dinner with a note sitting on the bowl, Heat this up in the microwave, and there’s a salad in the fridge. Wake me up if I’m asleep. Love, Cassie

He peeked into the bedroom, and there she was in the middle of his bed, tucked under the covers. There was something right with the world after all.

He was so hungry he didn’t even bother heating up the pasta. Instead, he grabbed a fork and ate it cold while standing at the sink, picking at the salad. It had been a grueling twenty-hour day, and tomorrow would be no better.

After rinsing off the dishes, he went into the bathroom to rinse himself off before climbing into bed with her. He didn’t want to wake her, but he needed to hold her against him while he slept. He pulled her close, and she stirred, “I’m home. Go back to sleep.”

He kissed the back of her head, and she pressed her naked backside against him. And the next thing he knew, she was on her knees, with her weight on her forearms and he was behind her, his hands gripping her hips, lost in the sensation of long, deep strokes and her sultry moans.

* * *

They lost the next night’s game. In truth, it was a game that they probably would have lost with or without Ski. The opposing team had a better pitcher, a much better pitcher. It was as simple as that. But it wouldn’t make it any easier to face the press. The loss had given the jackals something more to sink their teeth into, as though they didn’t already have plenty.

Tommy James, the player who’d voiced his displeasure about Ski’s behavior, stopped him on his way into the pressroom. “What are you going to tell them?”

“That it’s none of their fucking business.”

“For real?” A grin slid slowly over James’ face.

“I’ll pretty it up some.”

“Whatever you’re going to say, we’re with you.”

Yep, sometimes people surprised you. “I appreciate that. Well, here goes nothing.”

He strode to the podium and scanned the room. Vultures. They had a job to do, but so did he, and he was in no mood to indulge an overzealous press today.

“Before I take questions, I have a brief announcement: Joe Jacowski’s out for the foreseeable future. Ski needs to take care of some personal matters, and then he’ll be back. Could be a week, a month, six months.” He shrugged. “We’re taking it one day at a time, and that’s what I’d advise everyone else to do, too. That’s all I’m going to say on the matter. When I have more news, you’ll have more news. If you’ve got questions about tonight’s game, I’m listening. Otherwise, we’re done here.”

While he was speaking the Blues’ players filtered into the room and formed a tight circle around the perimeter. They’d done it, he suspected, because it was the only way to cram that many bodies into that space, but the circle of strength had a menacing effect nonetheless.

“You owe your fans an explanation. They’ll want an explanation, they’ll expect one,” admonished Jim Rogers from his usual front and center seat.

“I don’t think they do.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Someone jeered from the back of the room while the rest of the gathered press snickered and guffawed at what they perceived as his naiveté.

“No, I’m not.”

He studied the room, not afraid to meet anyone’s eyes. “Blues’ fans are the best in the country. The best in the world. We welcome them into our house and treat them like they’re family while they’re here, and when they can’t be here, they welcome us into their homes. No one’s been more loyal than our fans, stuck with us through thick and thin, and we appreciate it more than words can express.

“This here,” and he waved his hand over the room, “is about your insatiable thirst for information, the need to dig up dirt in every dark corner of the clubhouse. But Blues’ fans are better than that.”

If the assembled press corps weren’t such a shameless bunch, they’d be squirming by now.

“After the game was called last night, I visited the VFW and talked with some of the city’s finest. Then I went across the river to meet up with some firefighters—all lifelong fans of the team. What they told me they wanted is for their team to do well, to make them proud, and for the manager to make his way back to the clubhouse and take the reins again. I have no reason to believe that our other fans feel differently. And I thank them for that.”

He glanced around the room at the players who had filed into the space. The ones who had his back. “We all thank them for that.”

The pressroom was uncharacteristically silent. They’d expected him to be more forthcoming, perhaps dish a little dirt, just like the public relations and communications experts had advised. But it hadn’t felt right to him. Surely decency allowed for some separation between one’s personal life and one’s life as a member of the Blues organization. The press didn’t have the right to know every single thing about them, did they?

If this little move of his was successful, it would be a coup talked about for years by observers of the game. If not, well, the shit would hit the fan within twenty-four hours, and he’d be the scapegoat for all the team’s problems. For now, he took the silence as an opportunity to gather his papers and leave the podium. He was closely followed by twenty-five young men with chests puffed out, every one of them wearing Blues caps with Ski written across the inside of the brim.

Jim Rogers passed him in the hall outside the locker room later that afternoon. “You’re making a mistake, Harrington, a big mistake.”

“Maybe, and if so, I’ll have to live with the consequences.”

* * *

It had been more than two weeks since Ski’s meltdown. The team had lost a couple of games at the beginning, but they’d found their groove and now were on a winning streak. She’d spent the time shuttling back and forth between Boston and Baltimore, often leaving Lola’s in the capable hands of her talented baker. Hiring him had been a good move, a very good move.

“Cass, we’re going to be here another of couple of hours, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“What will you do for dinner?”

“I haven’t given it much thought, but don’t worry about me. We’ll order something in.”

“Let me take care of it.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“I want to. And I’ve already set the wheels in motion.”

“I owe you. Big-time.”

About forty-five minutes later Cassie pulled up to Blues Park in a cab, and security helped her carry a couple of large boxes into the clubhouse.

“Thank you,” she said to the young officers. “There’s plenty, so don’t be shy about coming back on your break to grab a late dinner.”

She’d texted Drew, and he was waiting inside for her.

“Manzo’s. Have I told you that I love you, and I’m chaining you to my bed if you ever raise the issue of going back to Baltimore again?”

About a half dozen coaches milled out into the open space where Cassie set up dinner. Every one more grateful than the next that they wouldn’t be eating lukewarm pizza again. They’d all been putting in extra hours to keep the team on course. Everyone had sorely felt Ski’s absence, but the coaches who worked for him bore the brunt of it. The coaches and the GM.

Drew opened the pastry box, salivating at the sight of thick, fudgy brownies. “Did you make these?”

“No. I planned on making cookies for you. I even made some cookie dough. But do you know your oven doesn’t work?”

“Uh, no. I hadn’t noticed.”

“Has it ever worked?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, of course.”

The guys were milling around, filling their plates, and they heard every word of Cassie and Drew’s conversation.

“Really? Because the sticker on the inside usually gets burned a bit if you turn it on without removing it.”

Everyone was now laughing, and smirking at how he’d been busted. Even knowing full well it could have easily been one of them on the hot seat, didn’t stop them from razzing him.

“How long have you lived there, Drew?” asked one of the coaches.

“Just moved in last week?”

“Have your fun at my expense, go ahead, get it all out.” Drew didn’t mind the ribbing.

An older man turned toward Cassie, “At least you know he hasn’t been cooking any women dinner when you’re not around.”

“Drew cooking some woman dinner is something I’ve never worried about.” She snaked her arm around his waist and squeezed while the guys chuckled. “Walk me out.”

“Thank you for saving us from another night of pizza.”

“My pleasure.”

“I’m not sure when I’ll be home. We’ll be a couple hours, at least.”

“Stay as long as you need to, I’ll be there when you get home.”

“If you’re asleep, can I wake you?”

“I’ll be disappointed if you don’t.”

* * *

Drew sat across from Ski at a small coffee shop in the North End. It was filled with neighborhood regulars, the kind of place where everyone minded their own business. “So you think you’re ready to come back, huh? It’s only been a few weeks.”

“I’m ready. Think the players are ready to have me back?”

“Yeah. You’ve been in touch with everyone. Let them all have their say right away. I’m sure it wasn’t easy, but it was smart.”

“They’re a good bunch, treated me better than I deserved. I don’t want a big hullaballoo when I get back.”

“Me neither, but we can’t kick the press out of the park. I’ve already stepped on more than a few toes, and it left some bruised feelings.”

“Bruised egos, you mean.”

“That, too. We’ll do our best to keep things low key, but it’s not like we have a gorilla suit hanging around that you can wear to slip in and out of the stadium unnoticed.”

“A disguise like that wouldn’t work anyway, the reporters who follow the team have never been easily fooled.”

“Talk to me, Ski, tell me what’s going on with you. Pretend I’m your friend, not your boss.”

The older man gave Drew a small smile through moist eyes. “You’ve been a good friend through this. Don’t think I don’t know how you stuck your neck out for me. I won’t forget it, and I won’t let you down again, either. I’m back to meetings, even though it’s been years since I’ve needed them. I had Sarah—she was all the meetings I needed to keep me on the straight and narrow. I found a sponsor in the clubhouse, and a counselor to talk to.”

“I know it’s not the same as Sarah, or a professional, but I’m a pretty good listener.”

Ski gripped his cup between two hands. “The first year after she died, people stayed close. I rarely had a minute alone, especially at difficult times, like the holidays, her birthday, the anniversary of her death. But then everyone went back to their own lives, just like they were supposed to. We were married for over thirty-three years, I still have a crater-sized hole in my heart … and the other night, when things got rough, I tried to fill it with booze. At first I resisted, even though I always knew it would numb the pain, help me forget for a little while.”

“I’m sorry that I wasn’t around as much as I should have been,” Drew responded, “and when I was, my head wasn’t in the game.”

Ski waved his hand as though to swat away the comment. “Ah, don’t be listening to the garbage those idiots are spewing.”

“It’s true. I haven’t been earning my paycheck, and I let you down. Let the team down, too.”

“You know something? There’s another way to look at this. Those kids stood up and came together in a way that I was having trouble getting them to do. We needed leaders, and this mess gave them an opportunity to step up. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not making excuses for myself, or for you.”

“They did step up. JD, too.”

“Sarah would have been thrilled to see how the boys rallied. She was always reminding me how those overpaid hulks were just kids. She gave me perspective, helped me be a better manager.”

“She was a great woman.”

“The best. I just wish I had more time with her. God took her from me too soon, and so quickly. I guess I should be grateful for that part. She had an awful headache, but she didn’t suffer long. I wish I’d been with her when she died.”

“You loved her every single day of her life, and she knew it. That was the most important thing you could have done for her.”

“She died alone.”

Drew squirmed in his chair, trying to find a comfortable spot. “I can’t imagine watching someone you love suffer, knowing there’s nothing you can do for them.”

“There would’ve been plenty I could have done for her if I’d been there. I’ve thought a lot about it in the last year and a half. I would’ve bathed her forehead with cold compresses, fed her ice chips, and held her safe in my arms while she passed. It would have been the greatest honor of my life to care for her in death. An honor I’m not much worthy of.”

It would have been the greatest honor of my life to care for her in death. Ski’s words resonated with him, and for a minute he thought not of Sarah, but of Cassie. And while he hoped with all his heart it would never come to that, hoped a merciful God would take him first, after they’d shared a lifetime together, he knew he’d love her, and would care for her, as long as there was a single breath left in his body.

18

Cassie finished drying her hair and rubbed scented lotion into every inch of her body, making sure every spot was smooth and sweet-smelling. She was so excited she was practically jumping out of her skin. He’d be here in less than twenty minutes. She’d been in Boston as often as she could after Ski’s meltdown, only going home to grab her mail and give Tim, her baker, a day off here and there.

Ski was back with the team, but Drew needed to be much more engaged than he had been during the first half of the season. It was getting harder and harder to say good-bye every time she left him, even if it was just for a night. But as luck would have it, the Blues were in Baltimore for a four-game stretch, and then in New York.

He would need to work most of the time he was in Baltimore, but that would give her a chance to do a few things, and give Tim some time for himself. Drew was staying with her for the next four nights, and they planned to have dinner on Fenwick Island tonight.

So much had changed since she opened up to him. She felt like a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders, and for the first time in years she was happy—not just content, but truly happy. She’d been given a second chance, in so many ways, and some days she could hardly believe how well things were going for her, for them.

They made love last week more times than she could count. For the most part, her body responded like the young woman she was, and when it wasn’t enough, the world hadn’t come crashing down. They’d simply used lubricant. It had become part of their routine, like condoms.

The sex had been toe-curling, but she knew him well enough to know he was holding back, just a little. Staying in control for too long. That wasn’t the guy she remembered. Maybe he was afraid of hurting her, maybe he was afraid to completely let himself go. Either way, he was careful with her. Careful with her feelings, her emotions, and her body. More careful than he’d been at Brown, and much more careful than he needed to be now.

She slid on the lace panties, adjusting the satin ties, and shivered when she thought about how they’d come off. And then she carefully laced up the camisole, catching the ribbon around each hook. After taking one last look around her apartment, she programmed her iPod so it would continue to replay the drum solo—his favorite drum solo, and hers too.

Her cheeks flushed when she thought about the first time he played it for her. She’d been lying on the floor, face down, wearing nothing more than a skimpy tank top and a thong, gyrating to the beat of the drums. He’d gotten up from the stool, gone over to his stereo, and turned on the drum solo. Then grabbing his drumsticks, he straddled her on his knees, gently playing along with the music, using her bottom as the main instrument. He played until she was moaning, moving her hips up and down off the floor.

“Roll onto your back,” he’d instructed, and proceeded to play the drums over her belly, using the mound buried in curls to raise the tempo. She’d spread her legs, hoping the sensation would soothe her throbbing clit. Every inch of flesh burned, every nerve smoldered. He tore at her thong, but before he sank into her, he held the pair of sticks in one hand, trailing them from her lips down between her breasts, and over her belly, across the soft mound to her clit, where he held them still, making her writhe for more. Then he tossed them over his shoulder and with one savage plunge, he entered her, and loved her to the beat of the drum. Pounding and tapping, half-crazed, covered with sweat, they rode the crescendo.

“God, I love you,” he’d said, nuzzling her neck while they basked in the afterglow. “Promise you’ll always be mine.”

“I promise. I’ll always be yours.”

She wanted that man back. The one who surrendered to his passion, let it take them to places that made her heart skip a beat just thinking about them.

* * *

Drew knocked on Cassie’s door with a bouquet of wildflowers and an overnight bag in hand. It was the weekend, but she’d have to be at the bakery tomorrow morning early, and he needed to be at the ballpark first thing in the morning.

When she opened the door, his mouth went dry and his dick jumped to attention. No slow-growing burn, it skipped all the preliminaries. It had been misbehaving all day at the mere thought of her, but now with her standing there in her green-light underwear, it was fully primed. The drumbeat in the background registered just before his brain completely ceased functioning, all of its power relegated to sending “breathe!” signals to his lungs.

His mouth automatically found hers. He didn’t need fully operating brain cells for that. When she held onto his ass and pushed her hips into him, the flowers and the duffel hit the floor. He needed both hands.

She skimmed her fingers up under his shirt, and with one tug he had it flying across the room. “Don’t want anything to get in your way, baby.”

He kissed her neck, nipping at every inch of flesh he could reach, until her moans nearly undid him. He pulled on the ribbon between her breasts.

“Let me,” she demanded in a voice so husky he needed several deep breaths to control his response to her. She stepped away from him, out of his reach, so he could watch but not touch. She propped the bottom of her foot against the wall behind her, while she slowly and methodically unlaced the ribbon holding the camisole together.

Her eyes never left his, and her hands were steady as she put on a little show for him. Gliding her tongue over her lips, wetting them, spreading the moisture over every crevice. His dick was straining under the denim. She cocked her head and gave him a sultry half smile, and that was it, he couldn’t take one more second. He needed to touch her, now.

He reached for her, running his fingers over her exposed breasts, taking a pink bud under each thumb. She arched her back against the wall before pressing her hips into him. He moved closer still, so she could feel him, thick and hard.

She gasped.

“While I’m kissing you, touching you, I want you to think about how that’s going to feel buried inside you later.” Sliding his fingers into her panties, he could feel the moisture collecting, seeping from her core.

Her hands went to his belt buckle, and his mouth to her breast, and he wondered if she could feel the vibrations of his pleasure against her nipple.

“Let’s find your bed.”

“No, here,” she said, unzipping his jeans with her palm grinding into his erection.

“Here? Here,” he repeated, tugging at the ribbons holding her panties together, one in each hand. They slid down her legs resting in a dainty heap at her feet, just as he’d imagined.

She was kneading his backside with one leg hooked over his hip, while he focused all his attention on her clit. With her nails dug into his back, she came hard, her entire body trembling in his hands. Afraid her legs wouldn’t support her, he held on tight, steadying her, while he searched his discarded pants for a condom.

After sheathing himself, he lifted her from the floor, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, using his shoulders and his neck to hold herself up.

“Hold on tight, sweetheart.” He sank into her, leveraging her against the wall, cradling her head protectively. “Quick and dirty, baby. Quick and dirty.” When she whimpered, it crossed his mind for a nanosecond that he was taking her against the wall like an animal. But then she began to move her hips, her fingers sinking into his flesh, while she met his thrusts. There was no way he could stop. Absolutely no way.

It didn’t last long, but neither of them was left unsatisfied. She mewled into his neck, after coming for him a second time. Soft little whimpers, so familiar, so damn sexy, he was almost ready for another round, and he hadn’t even gotten the condom off from the first.

He carried her toward the bedroom, but stopped at the spare room instead, and kicked the door open.

“This isn’t my bedroom.”

“I know, but it’s our chair.” He sat in his favorite chair with her straddling his lap, and she rested her head on his chest. “I noticed it the last time I was here. I was surprised you kept it.”

“I had to. It held so many wonderful memories.” He coiled his arms around her, and boneless, she melted into him.

“I think I’ll spend the rest of the weekend right here, just like this. Mmmm. I’m sorry I lost control out there. I didn’t…”

“I loved it. I’ve always loved it when you wanted me so much you couldn’t wait, and you’d lose all control. We’d both lose all control.”

He ran a finger down her spine and she trembled. “Cassie, promise me, no matter what happens between us, if you kick my no-good ass out tomorrow, promise me you won’t ever settle for a nice life and comfortable sex. Promise me.”

“I promise. But I’m not kicking you out, yet. You promised me dinner.”

His lips curled. “I’m going to take you to dinner, but first I want another helping of dessert. And this time it’s going to be long and slow.”

* * *

The Blues were playing in New York, and she’d made the weekend trip to be with Drew. Her parents were in town too, and were having dinner with them after the game on Saturday.

It promised to be a big weekend. Three Yankees and Blues games, which were always an event unto themselves, her parents together with Drew after so many years, and her news. She’d made a big decision, and she’d decided to share it with Drew Sunday morning before the game.

She grabbed his hand as they exited the elevator to her parents’ apartment. “Don’t be nervous.”

“Can’t help but be a little uncomfortable. If I were your father, I’d kick my butt and toss me to the curb with the rest of the trash after what happened at Brown.”

“My parents have always had great perspective. It’s what made my father so successful. And they’ve always really liked you. Thought you were a nice boy,” she teased. “Now if they’d known about all those things you’d been doing to me…”

“What about all those things you did to me?” he said poking his finger into her side while she rang the bell.

“Cassie, honey, it’s so good to see you.” Her mother wrapped her in a hug. “And Drew, let me look at you. So tall and handsome, and you’ve filled out that frame nicely. Come here,” and he got a generous hug, too. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been well, thank you.”

“How are your brothers?”

“Everyone’s doing great.”

“It must have been nice to be together at Cole’s wedding.”

“It was wonderful. I’m so glad Cassie was able to share it with me. Still hard to believe he’s married, but Alexa is amazing, and she’s a wonderful addition to the family.”

“Dee, did I hear someone selling something at the door?” George Anteros was an imposing figure, not as tall as Drew, but a highly successful, self-made man, who built a Fortune 500 company from the bottom up. Hardworking, honest, and loyal, and a true family man.

“Cassia, my love. You need to come visit us in Miami more. I’ve missed you terribly.”

When he let go of his daughter, he held out his hand to Drew, “How are you, young man?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Drew replied, shaking hands. “Are you enjoying retirement?”

“Don’t let him fool you, he’s not really retired.” Dee Anteros rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Let’s take this inside. You guys go into the living room, and George can tell you all about his retirement. I’m stealing Cassie for a few minutes. Come, help me get snacks from the kitchen.” She slid her arm around Cassie’s waist.

George Anteros lounged back in a large upholstered chair. “Good game today.”

“Not a pretty win, but a win’s a win. I’ll take it. The season’s gone better than we expected, maybe better than we deserved. But that’s baseball. Yankees should finish solid, too.”

“From your mouth to God’s ear.”

“Mr. Anteros?”

“We’re all adults now. George, please.”

“I’d like to apologize to you for the way I fell apart at Brown, and left Cassie to pick up the pieces. A responsibility she didn't need. I know she spent a lot of time worrying about me… And I’m also sorry I wasn’t there for her while she was sick. I assure you, I’ve grown up a lot since then, and it’ll never happen again. You have my word.”

George’s face contorted in way that made him look decades older. “When Cassie got sick, the light in her eyes dimmed until I was afraid it had gone out forever. Nothing made her happy. For that matter, nothing made any of us happy. For months and months, everything was some gradation of bad. Her mother and I thought about calling you, we thought you might be able to offer her the comfort we didn’t seem to be able to provide. But each time we brought it up, she flew into a fit, and in the end we decided it wasn’t fair to either of you.”

It was heartbreaking to watch this larger-than-life man reduced to near tears over something that happened so long ago.

“As for what happened at Brown, you were a kid. I can’t imagine Cassie having had that experience. I lost my parents one at a time, and I was much older than you were when it happened. I know how difficult it was for me. There’s nothing to apologize for, son.”

Drew started to speak, but George raised a finger to silence him. “But Cassie’s my daughter, and you’re no longer a kid. She been through a lot, more than any young woman should have to endure, and next time … next time, I won’t be so forgiving.”

“I understand, sir, and I promise you, there won’t be a next time.”

George nodded. “I want to hear all about the Blues, but first tell me about your brothers.”

19

“I thought we were getting breakfast?”

“We are, but I need to make a stop first, and I want you to come with me. I also need to pick up some flowers, let’s catch a cab at the corner.”

“Flowers?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Are we visiting someone?”

She nodded. “Lola.”

“Lola,” he smiled. “She won’t mind us dropping in so early?”

Cassie squeezed his hand. “Lola won’t mind.”

The cab dropped them off at the entrance to the Brooklyn Cemetery.

“We’re meeting Lola at the cemetery?”

She nodded. “She lives here now, at least her body does.”

Drew grabbed her hand. “Tell me about Lola.”

Cassie nodded and squeezed his fingers. “She was one of the most special people I’ve ever known. I met her in my cancer support group. She’d spent her entire childhood bouncing in and out of foster homes, until she ended up in a group home as a teenager. But you’d never have known any of it. She was always upbeat and cheery, taught me so much about counting my blessings instead of dwelling on the things I didn’t have. And I have so much, especially compared to her.”

He tucked her under his arm up against his side.

“Her hair fell out during chemotherapy, and she wore a drab green bandana to cover the baldness. She always joked about how it matched the green on her face when she got nauseous. At Christmas, our group picked names for a secret Santa, and I got Lola. What I really wanted to buy her were groceries, an iPod so she could listen to music, pay for her medicine, buy her the wig I know she really wanted. I thought about doing it anonymously, but I had no idea where she lived, and there were all sorts of privacy rules about sharing information. So I bought her a scarf.”

Cassie stopped and pulled a colorful scarf from her purse. “This scarf. The gifts were supposed to be under ten dollars, but I went to Barney’s and bought her the most expensive scarf I could find, one that wouldn't itch or make her uncomfortable, something that would feel good against her scalp. And then Josephina, our housekeeper, helped me switch the designer tag with one from a less expensive scarf from a discount store.”

She fingered the tag sewn on the scarf. “After she died, one of the nurses who’d taken care of her, brought it to me. Lola had asked her to give it back, and to thank me for being her friend.”

“Cassie, I can’t imagine how hard that was for you.”

“It was hard, but I’m thrilled to have the scarf. It reminds me of her sweetness and courage, and of how happy she looked when she opened it that Christmas.”

“Do you think she ever knew it was from Barney’s?”

She shrugged. “No, I don’t think so.”

“You’re such a little rule follower, it must have been torture to willfully disregard the rule,” he teased.

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“There’s more rule-breaking? Talk to me.”

“Do you remember Tilly?”

“Your father’s cousin’s wife, the one who forgets she came from a long line of pig farmers?”

She nodded. “That very one.”

“She walked in right after we’d finished our little switcheroo, and threw her coat at Josephina. ‘It’s expensive, don’t let anything happen to it,’ she chided, like Josephina was an irresponsible child. I was way beyond fuming. Josephina has worked for my parents forever—she’s part of the family. None of us would ever dream of treating her like that! We love her.”

“So what did you say to Tilly?”

She couldn’t stop grinning at the memory. “Not what I said, but what I did. I gave her the scarf from the discount store, after we’d sewn the designer label on it, for Christmas. I got Josephina to help me with that, too. Although I didn’t tell her why I needed her to do it. She almost keeled over when she found out what I was up to.”

“I can’t believe you did that. Tilly fell for it?”

“Josephina couldn’t believe I did it either. Tilly adored the scarf. I’ve seen it on her several times. She only knows labels, doesn’t care what’s behind them. I enjoyed every second of it, and Josephina and I still get a good laugh over it.”

“That’s too funny. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at Tilly again with a straight face.”

They walked a little further into the cemetery until they were beside Lola’s grave. “Lola loved her scarf too. It looked beautiful on her, brought out the blue in her eyes.” Cassie rubbed her hand over the smooth granite stone.

“She had a very aggressive cancer that had spread beyond her lymph nodes by the time it was discovered, and the nasty chemo she was prescribed weakened her immune system. She caught pneumonia that winter and died. I never went back to group after that.”

He crouched down to get a better look at the headstone. “She was only nineteen.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, “only nineteen… They held a memorial service for her in the hospital chapel, and the only people there were nurses, social workers, her doctors, and a few of us from group. The hospital staff took up a collection so she wouldn’t have to be buried in a pauper’s grave. There was not one family member, not one friend, at the service. She’d moved around so much, she had no roots, no ties to anyplace other than the cancer center at the hospital. It was as though she’d gone through life anonymously.”

Drew stood up and reached for her hand, rubbing his thumb in circles over her palm.

“After the service,” Cassie continued, “I walked for a long time with Lola’s scarf draped around my shoulders, and took inventory of my life. That’s the day I decided to tell my father that I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t sit in an office on Wall Street making money for people who already had plenty of money. Lola’s death gave me the courage to change the course of my life.”

“That’s why you named the bakery after her, that’s why it seemed right.”

She nodded. “The first money the bakery made went to buy the headstone. I couldn’t bear the idea of her being anonymous in death. And all the profits from Lola’s go to the social work department at the cancer center to help young women get second opinions, medicine, groceries, wigs, and anything else that a survivor might need to improve the quality of her health, and her life.

“The funds are also used to accommodate family travel and some other expenses, so women don’t need to be alone during surgery and treatment. It meant so much to me to have my mom there the whole time I was in the hospital, advocating for me when I was too weak to speak for myself, holding my hand when things got rough. It’s hard to have cancer, but when you’re young and you don’t have resources, it’s particularly awful. I know I could accomplish the same things by using the money in my trust or hitting up people I know for funds, but I wanted to help in a more integral way.”

“Cassie—what a beautiful story. I’m so glad you brought me here.”

“Other than my accountant, no one, not even my parents know about how the bakery profits are used. The anonymity is important to me. I don’t want it to become the poor little rich girl who had cancer and is now raising money for the less fortunate.”

“I get it.”

“I brought you here to tell you about Lola, but there’s something else too.”

He cocked his head, and stopped mid-step. “Sounds serious.”

“Serious in a good way. At least I hope you’ll think so. Lola’s mission is important, but there’s something else I need to do now, for you, and for myself.” She took a deep breath, “Baltimore’s not my home. It’s where I ran when I needed to hide from all the people in New York who knew I had cancer, who knew about the broken engagement. It’s been good to me, and I’ve grown to love it, but it’s not where my heart is.”

“Where is it? Where’s your heart, Cass?” he asked running his fingers over her cheek.

“My heart’s with you, in Boston. I’m moving to Boston to be with you, to start my tearoom, to live again. To love again.”

The worry vanished from his face, and he hugged her so hard he lifted her off the ground. “I’m about the happiest guy on the planet right now. But I want this to be right for you, too. What about Lola’s?”

“Tim’s buying it. I’ll hold the mortgage, he’ll keep the name, the employees, and I’ll give him the rights to use my recipes. All but the madeleines. That’s our recipe, and I don’t want to share it. I’ll use the profits from the tearoom the same way I used the profits from Lola’s.”

“It sounds like you’ve thought this all through. What’s your time frame like?”

“Tim and his wife are so excited about the arrangement, my holding the mortgage allows them to have their own shop long before they thought they’d be able to manage it financially. I think they’d like the transfer to happen tomorrow. I’ve begun scouting out places in Boston that might work.”

“Really?”

She nodded.

“I may know of a place that would work, too.”

“You have the Blues to think about, and I want this to be my thing. I have a vision for what I want the tearoom to be. I also need to find an apartment.”

“Why do you need an apartment? I have a perfectly good place with lots of room. Do you really see us spending many nights apart?”

“No, but I need to keep an apartment for now, even if it ends up to be just a place to store my junk.”

“I don’t get it. Seems like a waste.”

“Not to me.”

“At least let me help you find a place for the tearoom.”

“Okay. I’ll let you help, but I’ve already got my eye on a couple of spots.”

“Don’t sign a lease until you talk to me.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Promise?”

“Fine. But I’m getting close, the clock’s ticking.” She held up her wrist and tapped her index finger on her watch face.

“Listen, Miz Bossy Pants, I’ll come up with something before you can say milk or lemon with your tea. And…”

“Shh, kiss me.”

20

“When will you be back in Boston? I found the perfect place.”

“I have a couple of places to check out, too. One has more space and some outdoor seating. The other I’m not sure about, but it’s hard to tell online. Tell me about the place you found.”

“You’re going to love it.”

“Where is it?”

“Within walking distance of the ballpark.”

“That’s not all that helpful.”

“It’s helpful for me. I can stretch my legs, grab myself a cold drink and some goodies whenever I need a pick-me-up.”

“Why do I think you’re not talking about the kind of goodies you eat?”

“Oh, you can definitely eat these. Put them in your mouth, anyway.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Yep, a hopeless cause. Don’t bother to try and steer me toward a better path, it’s a waste of time. Sister Mary Louise once said that about me when I was a kid.”

“No, she didn’t.”

He laughed. “You’re right. She wasn’t talking about me, and I can’t remember whether she said it about Cole or Mark.”

“The Harrington hellions.”

“So when are you coming to check this place out?”

“Soon. I’m working out the details with my lawyer so we can finalize the sale of Lola’s, and packing.”

“Don’t wait too long.”

“Have you seen it?”

“I have.”

“Do you think it’ll work?”

“I’m calling you about it, aren’t I? But I’ll leave the final verdict to you.”

* * *

“I didn’t love either of those places. They looked much better online than they did in person.”

“I didn’t really like them, either. And that first one is in a marginal neighborhood. I’d worry all the time when you’re there alone.”

“How does the place you found compare with what we just saw?”

“You’ll have to tell me. You’re the one who has to live with the space.”

“Where are you taking me, and don’t we need to meet a real estate agent at the property?”

“Nope. I’ve got the key. I’m a trustworthy kind of guy.”

“It must be nice to be so important. Is it in the park?”

“Hmmm, I can’t remember. I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

After they’d strolled down a shaded path for a while, he pulled a satin blindfold out of his pocket. The one they kept in the nightstand at his apartment.

“Oh, my God! I can’t believe you took that out of the bedroom and brought it out in public.”

“Don’t worry, it won’t spill your dirty little secrets all over town. It promised to be discreet.”

She swatted him.

“Trust me?”

She closed her eyes, preparing to be blindfold. “Okay this…”

He ran his tongue over her lips, and nipped, pulling away suddenly. Just like when she wore it in private, the blindfold added an air of uncertainty that was scintillating.

“This is a perfect location for a business. Lots of foot traffic, easy parking, and near a subway stop. I’ll let you be the judge of the rest.”

He gently removed the blindfold.

She blinked several times, trying to adjust to the light. Her eyes widened at the structure in front them. It was a partially-enclosed pavilion surrounded by flowering trees, a structure straight out of Greek or Roman literature.

“What do you think?”

“I think it’s amazing. Really, really amazing.”

“Me, too.”

“Can I afford the rent? The lower my overhead is, the more profit goes to the cancer center.”

“I know. But you want a place that attracts customers, and one that fulfills some of your own dreams, too. Plus the landlord’s a nice guy. He’s willing to lease it to you for-all-he-can-eat baked goods, and any other treats you might want to throw in.”

She looked at him. “You own it?”

He nodded. “For now.”

“Drew… I can’t.”

“It’s perfect, you said so yourself.”

She moved around the space, admiring the plaster and mill work, running her hands along the columns. “It looks like it just needs some minor work to get it up and running, and an oven or two. What are you asking for rent?”

“No, Cassie. If you want it, I’m signing over the property to you. It’s yours, no matter what happens to us.”

“Drew, I can’t accept this from you. This is my thing. I could buy this myself from the trust, but that’s not what this project is about. Not what it’s ever been about.”

“This is my gift to you, because I’m glad your mom was there to hold your hand when I couldn’t be. Because you had access to the best medical care available, and to all of the other things you needed. I’m grateful for all of that, so incredibly grateful. I want other women to have it, too. Look, this is your thing, and I promise I won’t stick my nose into the business, but let me do this, let me play a small part in helping, too.”

“Why don’t we do a loan? You could give me favorable terms.”

“Uh-uh. Think of how much more income you’ll generate if you’re not saddled with rent or a mortgage. It’s good business.”

“It has so many possibilities…”

He could see her mind churning while she wandered through the place, so lost in thought, she jumped at the knock on the glass door. “I ordered lunch. We can sit on the bench out back.”

“Drew, it’s lovely out here, so peaceful and private.”

“As soon as I saw this place, I knew it was for you. It was everything you’d described, the Orangery, inside space, outside space, tall ceilings, romantic ambiance, an abundance of light.”

“Wait a second. I just started looking for a place ten days ago. How did you find it and buy it in such a short time? Even you’re not that important.”

He gripped his chest. “That hurts my feelings. And you’re wrong. The team’s winning, and I’m becoming more important by the day,” he teased, nuzzling her neck.

“Behave yourself, at least until you answer my question.”

“I bought it after Jay’s wedding. I saw how your face lit up while you were looking around the Casino at Roger Williams. There was an event here, and I heard that night that it was being auctioned some time this summer, but I never let it get that far. You know, to most people, this place is just a white elephant.”

“Not to me. It’s the perfect place for a tearoom. But back on topic. You bought this, and we weren’t even dating yet?”

“I wanted it for you. I wanted to be part of something that made your face light up, even before I knew about how you used the profits. And I knew it was a matter of time before we were together again.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

“I was prepared to hang around forever if I needed to. And I thought, since you hadn’t thrown me out of Lola’s that first day, maybe we had a chance. We loved each other once, I never stopped loving you, and I refused to believe you’d ever stopped loving me, or that you wouldn’t love me again.”

She laid her head against his shoulder.

“I know we were kids at Brown. But there’s no one I’ve met before you, or since, who even came close to completing my heart. It’s always been there for you, waiting for your love to fill in the nooks and crannies.”

“I have no idea what I did in life to deserve you. I love you so much.”

“Couldn’t possibly be as much as I love you.”

“What would you have done with this place if it hadn’t worked out this way? Tell me.” She squeezed his thigh.

He shrugged. “I’d have sold it—I don’t know. Maybe I would have turned it into a man cave.”

“A man cave?”

“Yeah. Put in a big pool table with a fake Tiffany lamp over it, a fully stocked bar, a giant screen TV in the corner, a poker table, video game console, dartboard, and a few of those pictures of dogs playing cards. And a urinal in the bathroom, of course.”

“A urinal?”

“Guys love urinals, Cass. Gotta have one.”

“Not in my tearoom.”

He smiled and pulled her onto his lap.

“I’ll accept your generous gift on one condition.”

“Does it involve sexual favors? Because if so, I’m in.”

“You’re like a horny teenager with a one-track mind.”

“Tell me you don’t love it,” he said taking her earlobe between his teeth.

“I so love it,” she said shuddering.

“Now what’s the condition?”

“That both our names are on the deed. I’ll run it, make all the decisions…”

“Of course, dear,” he said with an exaggerated reverence that made her laugh.

“I’d like to have your name on it, because I want you connected to my dreams, to something that’s so very important to me.”

“Sweetheart, I want to help make all your dreams come true. I’ve always wanted that.”

And right now, he also wanted to lay her out on the bench and—

A woman came down the path with two adorable little girls dressed in school uniforms, who waved at them. Foot traffic, good for business, lousy for a nooner. “So what will you name it, Madame Decision-Maker or do you prefer the Decider-in-Chief?”

“Don’t like taking orders from a woman, huh?”

“Have you ever visited my childhood home, met my relatives? And, no, I don’t mind taking orders from the beautiful woman in my lap. You can order me around all day long, as long as you understand at night, in our bed, it’s my turn. All night long, baby.”

“I can live with that.” She trailed kisses up his neck, tracing the contour of his ear with her finger. “I think Petite Madeleine is the perfect name for our tearoom,” she whispered.

21

“I don’t understand why you need to stop in Fall River before we go to Meadows Shore. We could have picked something up for my grandmother in Boston. Flowers, candy … she’ll like whatever you bring her. You could even have baked her some pastry. Who wouldn’t love that?”

“Your grandmother prefers Portuguese food over all else. And I wouldn’t dream of bringing her flowers. Antonio plants gorgeous flowers every year in a cutting garden for her. Doesn’t he still do that?”

“Probably.” Antonio and his wife, Rosa, lived in one of the guesthouses at Meadows Shore. Antonio managed everything outdoors, and Rosa was in charge inside. They’d been part of his life for as long as he could remember.

“There’s a Portuguese market in Fall River that’s been written up several times, I know we’ll find just the right thing for her there.”

“Are you nervous about being back at Meadows Shore with my family?”

“No, I saw everyone at the wedding, and it was almost like old times. Why do you ask?”

“You spent a lot of time searching for the perfect toy for Lily, a one-year-old who’s favorite toy at Christmas was the wrapping paper. Then you ran all over town trying to find orange jelly beans for Luke, who’s an adult, by the way, or at least pretends to be. And now we’re going to Fall River for a present for my grandmother, whose tastes are pretty simple.”

“Don’t be a stick-in-the-mud. You’re going to love the market.”

Yes, she was nervous. His family didn’t know she’d had cancer, or that she was still being treated. Drew loved her, but he was close to his family, and if her experience with Ned’s family had taught her anything…

“This is it,” he said pulling into the crowded parking lot.

They walked around the market purchasing several items, not only for Avó Angelina, but also for themselves.

“You were right, this is a great find,” Drew said taking a big bite from a freshly made malasada, a Portuguese specialty. “You have to try this, it’s out of this world.”

She took a bite, licking the sticky sugar from her lips. “Mmmm, fried dough.”

“It is not fried dough.”

“Yes, it is.”

“It’s a malasada, not some carnival food.”

“Give me another bite.”

“Forget about it, you’re not getting another bite. Fried dough. Wait until I tell Vovó you compared a malasada to carnie food. Not even that pretty candy from the Açores you bought will make up for that kind of disrespect.”

* * *

“Cassia!” Vovó gave her a kiss on each cheek before pulling her into a warm embrace. “So beautiful, but too skinny. All you girls, skin and bones. It is not fashionable to eat anymore.”

“How are you? Drew says you never stop working.”

“Ah,” she waved her hand dismissing the idea. “They worry too much, like little old ladies. All of them.”

“I heard your great-granddaughter’s visiting.”

“Yes, Liliana. Children are the light in our lives. Maybe one day soon, Cole and Alexa,” she whispered conspiratorially. “And then the rest, I hope,” she crossed her hands over her heart. “First they get married. It is better that way, I am old fashioned, I guess. But babies are a treasure, no matter when they are born. How are your parents?”

“Good. They send their best to you.”

“Your grandparents?”

“Yia-yia and Pappouli are doing great. I don’t see them as much as I’d like, it’s too hard for them to travel to the United States now.”

“Yia-yia wants a grandchild too, yes?” she asked pinching Cassie’s cheek.

Cassie felt Drew stiffen beside her. “Vovó, why are you talking about this?”

“I have embarrassed you? Good,” she said winking at Cassie.

“We’re going to go next door.”

“Alexa and Cole are not here yet,” Angelina warned.

Avó Angelina, as always, was speaking in a combination of Portuguese and English, which was not easy to understand, but Cassie had a feeling she knew what this was about. “We can go next door later,” she said to Drew.

Angelina beamed at her. “You can stay next door tonight if you wish. Alexa will be there, and she is a married woman, or you can stay here with the girls.”

“I think I’d like to stay here,” she said, earning herself a “what a nice girl,” look from Angelina and a low growl from Drew.

“Is it okay to take a walk on the beach with my girlfriend, or do we need a chaperone for that, too?”

“Definitely a chaperone,” called Cole from the kitchen doorway.

“Hey,” Drew said, reaching for Alexa first, and then his brother. “Thank goodness you’re here, because Cassie’s not allowed next door without Alexa there to protect her virtue,” he said dryly.

Cole’s eyes were twinkling madly while he admired his wife over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, she’ll be too busy with my business to interfere in your business.”

Alexa poked her husband from behind. “I heard that.”

* * *

“Sorry about all that baby talk with my grandmother, she doesn’t know … that …”

“That what?”

“That you’re not going to have babies.”

She stopped dead in her tracks. “I haven’t made that decision, yet.”

“Cassie…”

“We have less than twenty-four hours here with your family. Let’s not spoil it by talking about things we may or may not have any control over.”

He cupped her face, and slid his tongue over her lips until she acquiesced, kissing him back. Gripping her hips tightly, he pulled her in until she could feel how hard he was for her.

She had her sassiest look on. “You know, just because we’re not talking about making babies, doesn’t mean we can’t practice making them, with a condom, you know. Just so you don’t get rusty.”

“Rusty, huh?” He lifted her off the sand and flung her over his shoulder, running toward the water while tossing his wallet on the beach behind him, and plunged them both into the ocean fully clothed.

With her legs wrapped around his waist, he treaded water, keeping them both afloat. His hands and mouth were busy, taking them both near the edge.

“We can’t out here—without a condom. It’s too risky. Just because I don’t get my period, doesn’t mean I can’t get pregnant.”

“First of all, I have a condom. I don’t go anywhere without at least one in my pocket when you’re around, and second, I would never do anything to hurt you, baby. I could never get that carried away. I just wanted to taste the salt on your skin after you’d been in the ocean.”

She squeezed his shoulders. “Taste away.”

* * *

They relaxed on the beach around a large bonfire the guys had built earlier in the day. “I’m glad you’re staying with us tonight, Cassie,” Juliana said, sliding closer to her. “But you could’ve stayed next door. My grandmother wouldn’t have cared, as long as Alexa’s there.”

“Told you,” said Drew.

“I know, but it would have made her a little uncomfortable. This is better. Did you see how relieved she was when I said I’d stay with the girls? I think she feels some responsibility to my parents.”

“Yeah, I’m real glad we could make her so happy.” He poked her in the ribs.

“It’s better than staying over there with you guys, anyway. It’ll stink to high heaven by the end of the weekend, if it doesn’t already.” Juliana looked over at Alexa. “Sorry.”

“I’ve gotten used to the smell of testosterone that permeates the place when these guys are all home.”

“And she loves the manly smell,” her husband said gripping the back of her head and stealing his tongue into her mouth until his brothers began throwing marshmallows at them and calling for a hose.

“Maybe we could take the master suite, and do something special in there, like we did at our house.” Helena had led the efforts in turning her parents’ master bedroom into a bride’s room, right before Sophie and Max were married. The result was beautiful, and it transformed the room that once held so much joy into an integral part of their lives again.

“A bride’s room?” Jake said with a wrinkled nose.

“No. It doesn’t have to be a bride’s room. A females-only room. A feminine oasis just girly enough to keep out stinky gym socks.”

“Mm-hm, I like that idea. A place to get away from the guys, read, maybe nurse a baby away from the clutter and the noise.” Helena’s mind was working overtime.

“No! Can’t you mind your own goddamn business, ever? Do whatever you want in your house, but leave our house alone.” Cassie nearly fell off Drew’s lap during his outburst. Everyone else stared at him slack-jawed. He rarely raised his voice to anyone, let alone to Helena, who no one ever raised their voice to.

There was no question something very strange had happened around the bonfire, and only Cole and Alexa didn’t seem totally baffled by his behavior.

Although Cassie looked mighty uncomfortable.

* * *

It was happening, exactly what she feared might happen, and her gut told her there was more to come. It was a rerun of what had occurred with Ned and his family. She’d seen their happiness evaporating right in front of her. For a minute, she wanted to run down the beach where no one could see her flaming cheeks, and a small part of her even regretted that she’d come. She tugged on Drew’s arm. “Let’s take a walk on the beach.”

He didn’t hesitate when she popped out of his lap. “We won’t be gone long,” she told them.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at Helena like that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

“All the talk about babies and nursing. Cassie, I don’t want you to feel bad or anxious around my family.”

“There wasn’t ‘all that talk.’ Your grandmother made one comment earlier, and Helena made another. I didn’t feel bad or anxious either time, but maybe you did, and you’re projecting your feelings onto me.”

“Come on, Cass. I think I’ve made my feelings on the subject abundantly clear.”

“I think you’ve told me what you believe I need to hear, and what you want to believe yourself. Not necessarily what you do believe, because I don’t think you’ve spent more than a few seconds here and there really thinking about what it means not to have children.”

“Cassie…”

She lifted her hand, “Let me finish. I think you’re scared, and you try to protect me in every way you can, not just my feelings.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You worry about carcinogens everywhere. I went to wash a shirt the other day and you’d thrown out my bleach and replaced it with some natural bleaching agent that doesn’t work. And you got rid of my toilet bowl cleaner. I still bleach my whites, and I prefer my toilet without mold growing in it. That’s carcinogenic too, you know… And once in a while, when we make love, I feel like you’re doing a breast exam.”

He stared at his feet, kicking the sand.

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

“That’s just happened once or twice,” he muttered to his shoes.

“That isn’t good, Drew. It’s an offshoot of the weird behavior I told you about. I keep telling myself it’s a normal stage you’re passing through, but I feel like I need to say something to you, because it’s getting weirder. And less acceptable to me.”

“I want to take care of you. I need to.”

“No, not like that.” She cupped his face. “We have to take care of each other, and we each have the responsibility of taking care of ourselves. You can’t run interference for me through life. Yes, there will be times when each of us is vulnerable, and that’s when the other will need to step in and pick up the slack.”

He placed his hand over hers.

“I know you want to take care of me. I want to take care of you, too. But would you like it if I followed you around, made sure that you were keeping your stress levels low so it didn’t overwhelm you. How would that feel?”

“I’d love it if you would follow me around every day so I could get a little sugar any time I wanted to.”

He brought her hand to his mouth, and she raised her eyebrows.

“Okay—okay, I get it. It would be smothering. I’d start to feel like you didn’t trust me, like I wasn’t capable of taking care of myself.”

“Hmmm. That pretty much sums up how I feel.” She slid her arms around his neck. “There is something you can do for me.”

“What’s that?”

And she whispered the naughtiest words that had ever come out of her mouth into his ear, and then took off down the beach running, with him hot on her heels.

22

By the time they returned, everyone was cleaning up, and Luke and Will were dumping water and sand on the fire.

“I’m going to stay over at the Claytons’ tonight,” Alexa whispered to Cole, who pulled her down with him onto a chair. “Cassie’s going to need some support.”

“She seems fine now.”

“You think your cousins are just going to let Drew’s outburst go. That was completely out of character for him. Now if that had been you,” she teased, wiggling her bottom in Cole’s lap.

“My damn brothers, never a shortage of problems with them.” He brushed his nose against hers. “Thank you. And if you don’t stop wiggling your ass, I’m going to take you on the sand right here, and I won’t care who’s watching.”

“Liar. You do so care who’s watching.”

“I wouldn’t press the issue—or anything else, if I were you.”

“You can thank me properly tomorrow. Or maybe I’ll sneak up the back stairs later tonight and into your bed. It’ll be something new and different, your wife sneaking into your bed instead of some … what’s that Portuguese word your grandmother uses, when she thinks no one’s listening, to describe the lovely young women you guys have sneaked up the back stairs?”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, sliding his tongue over her ear.

* * *

Alexa noticed Max pouting, too, when Sophie sent him off to bed alone. Must be something about the ocean air that made everyone feel like a randy teenager.

“God, what was that with Drew?” Ella asked, pouring herself a glass of wine. Just like Alexa had suspected, it was the first topic on the agenda.

“I didn’t realize he’d be so sensitive about Aunt Maggie and Uncle Nick’s room being renovated.”

The sisters bantered about Drew, eyeing Cassie closely for some time before finally coming right out and asking, “What’s up with him, Cass?”

At first, she didn’t say anything, and Alexa wondered what was going through her mind. Just when she’d decided to run interference, Cassie spoke.

“It has nothing to do with his parents’ bedroom…” Alexa watched Cassie’s chest expand and heard her breath deepen, from across the table. “It’s because I’m a breast cancer survivor, and I may not be able to have children.” She took another long breath. “Drew was trying to protect me, and maybe he was trying to protect himself, too.”

The room was quiet for what seemed like an eternity while everyone appeared to be digesting the information.

“How long ago did you discover the cancer?” Sophie asked.

“Right after graduation. I had a mastectomy and reconstructive surgery. I’m still being treated with oral medication. It’ll be about another three years before I’m completely done. It was a tough time in my life, but I’d pretty much put it behind me until Drew and I reconnected. Any time you begin a new relationship, you need to tell the story before…”

At this point, Cassie’s eyes were glazed over, and she was rambling.

Juliana squeezed Cassie’s hand, “You’re a brave woman. I’ve always admired that about you.”

“That’s a long time to be cancer-free. It’s awesome, and so encouraging,” Sophie chimed in.

“There are no guarantees about my health … and I understand if you feel differently about Drew and me being back together now you know this. It’s common. And Drew had such a hard time after his parents and your parents died. I know no one wants him to…”

Alexa started to get up and go over to Cassie, but Ella beat her to it.

She looped both arms around Cassie. “Drew is lucky to have found you again. You’re perfect for him, and we love having you back in our lives.”

Talia reached for Cassie’s hand. “Anything can happen to anyone, at any time. You don’t need to be sick. There were lots of people with terminal illnesses on the day my parents passed. Mom and Dad were completely healthy, but despite that, they were the ones who died that day. That’s just the way life is.”

Cassie didn’t bare her soul to them that night. There’d be other nights for that. But she seemed a little lighter because she’d opened up, and moved past what she’d clearly worried would be a huge bump in the road.

The Clayton sisters were protective of their own, and tough, much tougher than their male cousins. Cassie had let them know it was okay to be concerned, but the funny thing was, they weren’t, or at least they didn’t seem to be.

At that moment, Alexa was so incredibly proud to be a member of this family. And then she wondered if the Harrington brothers would be as comfortable with the news.

* * *

“What the fuck was that over there with Lainey?”

“It wouldn’t be so bad to do something with that room. Make it a more inviting place—fill it with happiness again. No one steps foot in there now.”

“Jesus, Drew, Mom would have loved that idea.”

“It’s not about the room,” Cole told his brothers. “You need to tell them what it’s about.”

Drew shot him daggers. “You couldn’t open your damn mouth when it was important, now you can’t keep it shut.”

“Oh, I can keep it shut. But I guarantee that’s not what’s going on next door. Why the hell do you think my wife’s sleeping over there tonight? It sure as hell isn’t because she can’t stand to be in my bed.”

“Yeah, no one would ever think that,” Jake said. “I hope you behave better when you’re visiting her family, otherwise her father is going to lay a well-deserved beating on you.”

“We’re married.”

“So what? You enjoy watching Max slobbering all over Sophie like some horny bastard? They’re married, too.”

“Cassie has breast cancer.” Drew blurted it out of nowhere, and it hit like a sucker punch, leaving them all reeling.

“Had,” said Cole.

Drew nodded. It was a slight head movement, more like a tremor. “All the talk about babies. She can’t have kids, or at least she shouldn’t. She’s not going to.”

“Has she made that decision?” asked Cole.

“Well, no … not exactly.”

Cole raised an eyebrow. “You’ve made it for her?”

Drew shrugged.

“That attitude’s going to take you far, real far.”

Everyone else was still quiet, trying to process what Cole and Drew were blabbering about. Finally Will spoke up, in typical Will fashion, with the left side of his brain fully engaged. “I guess I don’t understand what breast cancer has to do with having a baby.”

“It’s complicated. Hormones, and a bunch of other crap. It might be too dangerous. There’s just not a lot of scientific research on it.”

“Breast cancer is pretty serious.”

“Yeah. Especially in young women,” Drew whispered.

“It could come back. Kill her. You up for that?” Luke asked.

“That is the stupidest question any human being ever asked in the history of the world. Do not dignify it with an answer.” Cole glared at his youngest brother.

“I love her, and I’m up for anything where she’s concerned.”

“You don’t need to be sick to die, if you remember.” Of course, Will would still be clinging to logic.

“What’s the deal?” Mark asked Cole.

“Ask him.”

“You're a doctor.”

“Tonight I’m a brother, just like you.”

“I’m going to bed,” Drew said.

Mark watched his brother stand on legs that seemed like they might buckle at any minute. He looked beaten. “You know Vovó gets all hot and bothered about us sneaking women in here. Betcha nobody watches the side door of the little angels next door. You could probably find your way inside to be with Cassie.”

“The side door’s unlocked. I thought you might want to go over and say goodnight,” Alexa said, stepping onto the porch. “They just went up to bed. Cassie’s in the bedroom near Juliana’s.”

She kissed Drew on the cheek. “It went well over there,” she whispered, “but I’m sure she could use a hug, and you look like you could use one too.”

They watched Drew’s long stride become a jog as he made his way next door.

“I don’t know about this. I think it’s a bad idea.”

“A really bad idea.”

“Yeah, he needs to cut her loose.”

Alexa looked at each of her brothers-in-law while they offered their unsolicited opinions about Cassie and Drew’s relationship. “What do you think?” she asked Will, who was the only one aside from Cole who hadn’t offered an opinion, and she already knew what her husband thought.

“I’m not sure.”

“This isn’t something you need to examine like a trade bill. This is Drew. Remember the last time someone he loved died? We almost lost him, too. This doesn’t require any thought.” Luke was uncharacteristically snarky.

Alexa had enough. “Well, you want to know what I think? I think you’re a bunch of selfish bastards.”

They all stared at her for a couple of long minutes, wondering who this woman was, and what had she done with Alexa.

“He’s not your brother—”

“I am not finished.” She had both hands on her hips while she studied each of their faces.

They all looked over at Cole, who simply held his hands up in a don’t get me involved in this discussion. I’m just happy she’ll be in my bed tonight, and I plan on keeping it that way, gesture.

“Cassie and Drew love each other. Even after all those years apart, they never stopped loving each other. Love isn’t just about the pretty and shiny. If Cole gets sick tomorrow, I’d never leave his side, and if I get sick, I’m sure he’d never leave mine. No one knows who’s going to go first, no one but God. Drew is stronger, much stronger, than he was when your parents died, and he’s even stronger with Cassie by his side.”

“You don’t know that,” Luke snarled.

“I know plenty, and I think you’re all scared for yourselves as much as you are for him. You’re scared because you really like Cassie, you’ve always liked her, and if she’s around all the time, you know that you’ll grow to love her, too. And you’re not sure if you can cope with watching her get sick or die, so you want Drew to send her away, even though she might be the best thing that’s ever happened to him. If I get sick tomorrow, is that what you’re going to ask Cole to do, send me away so you won’t have to watch me die?”

The grown men squirming on the porch were a sight to behold. Especially this particular group of men.

“It’s natural to want to protect your brother, and yourselves, from pain, but you need to suck it up. This isn’t about you. And if you can’t accept their love, if you can’t accept Cassie, then just keep your mouth shut and put a big smile on your face. Fake your feelings if you have to, you know, the way you do when you’re trying to get into some woman’s panties.”

She bent down and put her lips smack on Cole’s mouth, “Don’t be long,” she whispered.

“Don’t worry, tiger.”

No one said a word as she opened the door and went inside.

“Jesus, is she always like that?”

“Always, no. But she’s not afraid to kick a little ass every now and then.”

“No wonder she gets along so well next door.”

“I liked it a hell of a lot better when it was just us around here. When we made our own decisions, took care of each other without women meddling.”

“When was that, when we didn’t have women meddling in our business?” asked Cole.

“She’s right,” Will said quietly.

“Yeah. I guess.” Jake muttered. He was probably more influenced by Will, than by any of his other brothers.

“Maybe.” Mark wasn’t quite ready to concede, not where Drew’s mental health was concerned.

“What is it with you guys? Harrington genes? Don’t mind putting yourself or anyone else in the way of a free fall. With all the women around he could dip his dick into, he has to pick one with breast cancer.” Luke was in rare form tonight.

“She’s been in complete remission for nearly seven years,” Cole said. “And I’d keep that opinion to myself if I were you, or at the very least, I’d reword it.”

“Seven years, well that means it’s about ready to come back.” Luke snatched his beer off the table in front of him and took a long swig.

“What are you, a fucking oncologist, now?”

“You don’t need a medical degree to know breast cancer always comes back to kill.”

“Well that’ll be news to the scientists working in the field. Maybe you’d like to publish a scholarly paper about it.”

“You weren’t here with Juliana and Vovó after they died. None of you were here, but I was. Juliana told me sometimes it hurt so much she wished she could just go to sleep and not wake up. I slept on the floor of her room for a goddamn month after that.”

Luke shot to his feet, towering above his brothers. “You didn’t feel like shit when you went off to college, because you left them here alone. I walked in one afternoon when school let out early, and Vovó was shelling beans with tears streaming down her face. When she saw me, she wiped her face with the corner of her apron and gave me some bullshit about beans making you cry like onions.” He turned to Cole, “And remember when you picked Drew up from Brown? Remember the condition he was in? Well, I do. Like it was yesterday.”

Luke had just detonated a bomb on the porch, and he wasn’t done. But neither was Cole.

“He’s just like him,” Luke sneered.

“Like who?” growled Cole.

“Like your father.”

“We have the same father, and I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“He knew. He knew it was risky to take that trip, and he went anyway.”

“So you’re saying he knew that they were going to be killed, and he took Mom along anyway?”

“He was a United States senator, and Uncle Sam was a fucking ambassador—he was head of the Foreign Service Corps. How could they have not known something was up?”

“How do you know this?” Will asked quietly, defusing some of the animosity around him.

Luke glanced at Will, but didn’t answer him.

“Those records are still classified.”

Luke stormed out without another word, and Will sent a raised eyebrow Cole’s way.

“What he said makes some sense,” Mark offered, leaning back in his chair.

“He would never have taken her if he’d known the danger.”

“She would have never stayed home if she thought he’d be in danger.”

“Mom wouldn’t have left knowing we’d be parentless. There was always some element of danger. She could have followed him everywhere, any time he went away, but she didn’t. It’s not like you were raised by nannies who wiped your ass. She was always there for us, and so was he, more often than most people in his position would have been. I don’t believe any of them knew what they were getting into. They wouldn’t have gone if they’d known.”

“It was an important trip, and we were all adults by then, doing our own thing.”

“Not Lukie. He was here, dealing with a world of hurt we knew nothing about.”

* * *

“How did it go down there?” Alexa asked Cole when he finally made his way to bed.

“Will’s on board. Jake too, I think. Jury’s still out on the rest.” With a loud whoosh, he blew out a deep breath “I learned some things tonight that broke my heart.”

He was sitting on the edge of the mattress, and Alexa rolled over and pulled him into bed with her. “Tell me,” she said, hugging her husband tight.

“Apparently Luke was handling a lot more than any of us knew after my parents died. More than I knew. I—”

“Shh. No beating yourself up, not tonight. You’re a great brother, you always have been.”

“You think much more highly of me than I deserve.”

“Uh-uh. I see you for exactly who you are. And I love what I see, always.”

He squeezed her shoulders. “My brothers took the news about Cassie kind of hard. They’re worried about Drew if something happens to her. But I think you’re right, they’re also worried about themselves.”

“They just heard about it. They’ll get on board, but it might take a little time to process everything.”

“Is that what you were doing down there, helping them process everything?”

“Yes and no. I helped them cut right to the chase. Psychoanalysis has fallen out of favor these days, and for good reason, it takes too much time.”

Cole chuckled.

“So I laid the issues right out for them in black and white. It’s not the best way to go about it, but it certainly is expedient.”

“Sounds more like the lawyer talking than the social worker.” He rolled on top of her and slid his hands and mouth over her skin until she was writhing under him. “Hold onto the headboard and don’t let go.”

She gazed up at him. “But then my hands won’t be free to touch you.”

“That’s too bad, especially for me. Maybe I’ll let you use your hands a little later.” He rocked his hips forward, pressing his erection into her belly. “You’ve already had your fun outside. It’s my turn now. Don’t let go until I tell you to,” he warned, catching her nipple with his mouth.

* * *

“I came over for a kiss or two, and to let you know I told my brothers about the breast cancer.” He shed his clothes and crawled into bed beside her. “I know I should’ve checked with you first, but I figured everyone over here knew, and I didn’t want them to hear about it secondhand.”

“It’s not a secret, Drew.”

“I know that, but I also know it’s not something you like to share with everyone.”

“I’m glad you told them. I feel like it’s an obstacle out of our way.”

“I love my brothers Cassie, a lot, but I’d never let any one of them come between us.”

“I would hate…”

“Shh.” He curled around her tightly.

“How’d they take it?”

“Hard to tell. I left them with Cole, he can answer whatever questions they have. I didn’t want to listen to them talking about your breasts. I’d have to beat them up, and then my hands would be too sore to touch you,” he said sliding his hands over her.

“Mmmm,” she snuggled against him, “feels so good, but you can’t stay here tonight.”

“What?”

“You can’t stay here. Everyone will know.”

“Uh, Cass, my cousins, they look angelic and all, and my brothers and I like to pretend that they’re virgins—even Sophie, and she’s been married twice and has a kid. But I’m pretty sure they’ve all done the deed.”

“They have.”

“Even Juliana? Wait! Don’t tell me, I don’t want to know,” he growled at the unpleasant thought.

“I don’t care about your cousins, it’s about your grandmother.”

“She’s sleeping, in a different house.”

“She’ll know.”

“So what? It’s not like we’re teenagers. I’ll even change the sheets so Rosa doesn’t have to deal with it.”

“It’s a matter of respect. She cares about that stuff, just like my parents do, and Yia-yia would. You need to go back next door.”

“You’re kicking me out, really?”

“Mm-hm, but kiss me again, a few more of those sweet kisses before you go.”

* * *

The next morning was awkward at the Harrington’s house. She knew they knew, and they knew she knew that they knew, but no one said a thing. Not one word. But at least they didn’t look at her like she was about to die. Jake, Will and Cole treated her pretty much the way they always had. But Mark avoided her, and when she reached over to kiss Luke good-bye, he iced her out. Well, three out of five wasn’t so bad, and she had Alexa in her corner, sending disapproving looks in the direction of anyone who couldn’t be civil.

But what broke her heart was when she went to throw a wrapper in the trash, and lying right on top of the garbage was a bag of Swedish fish and another filled with orange jelly beans.

* * *

Cassie scrubbed her hands under hot sudsy water, trying to wash off the remnants of butter she’d used for the puff pastry dough. This would be her final week in Baltimore, working in the kitchen at Lola’s. Tim and his wife took some time off before the sale of the bakery was final. It would be a long time before they had another day off, and she was glad to pitch in, glad to have another week all to herself in the kitchen she’d so lovingly designed.

“There’s a smokin’ hot, and I mean smokin’ hot, guy out there looking for you. Says his name is Mark. Since you and Drew are an item, can I have him?” Lindsey shamelessly begged.

Cassie rolled her eyes. “Tell him I’ll be right out.”

Hmmm, Mark. Mark Harrington, she assumed from Lindsey’s description. What could he want? She shuddered thinking about the possibilities.

“Mark, it’s nice to see you.”

He lowered his head and kissed her cheek. “Nice place. Not sad to leave it?”

“No, not really … well, maybe a little. Iced tea?”

“Sure, and can I get an éclair, too?” he asked sheepishly.

“I think that can be arranged.”

She brought an assortment of pastry and a couple of cold drinks to the table where he was sitting.

“This stuff looks great. I may have to fight Drew for you.”

She smiled. “I’m happy you stopped by, but I’m thinking that it probably wasn’t for a cold drink and an éclair.”

“If I knew the baked goods tasted like this, I’d been camped out here a long time ago… But no, after last weekend, I wanted to talk to you in person about your relationship with Drew.”

She sucked in as much air as her lungs could hold, not sure if she’d be able to breathe once he started talking. “I’m listening.”

“Drew and I shared a room until I got to high school. We were both middle children, but I was the oldest middle. Incredibly immature, impulsive, an all-around pain in the ass.” He gave her that lethal Harrington smile, “I bet that surprises you.”

Mark took a bite from a mini pecan tart. “These are awesome, too. Anyway, I had every bad trait associated with middle children, and Drew had none. Not one. I once heard a teacher at school say, ‘it’s a good thing Drew is nothing like Mark; otherwise, Jake and Luke would never have been born.’”

“That was mean. And so not true. Your parents adored you.”

He shrugged. “You didn’t know me then. I was always getting myself into some kind of hot water. Drew always defended me, and helped settle me. He’s the person who made my life a whole lot easier.”

“And you’d like him to have an easier life, too. I understand. There was a part of me that wanted that for him too. It’s one of the reasons that it took a while for us to get back together.”

“What changed your mind?”

“Love. I couldn’t bear to live without him. I don’t plan on getting sick again. But I might.”

“Alexa said something last weekend that I know now is true, even though at the time I wanted to tell her to shut up.”

“I’m sure that would have gone over well with Cole.”

“Have you ever seen Alexa get all pissy? Wow. I mean, wow.”

She chuckled, and made a mental note to ask Alexa about exactly what she’d said to them.

“She said that we were afraid as much for ourselves as for Drew. And it’s true Cass, the other night I was afraid for all of us.”

“What about now?”

“Not as much. And I think with a little time, I won’t think about it all.”

“But you still wish he’d choose someone else.”

“No, Cass, I never wished that, not for a minute. I just wish we knew you were going to stay healthy.”

Mark. He made her smile because he was so Mark. So brutally honest. You might not like what he had to say, and chances are you wouldn’t like how he said it, but it would always be the truth. The unadorned truth. And the nice thing about the truth was, no matter what it turned out to be, you could work with it, because you always knew exactly where you stood.

“I think Drew and I are going to be together for a long time. I hope it doesn’t mean that you guys will avoid me, or worse, avoid Drew. That would be more painful to him than something happening to me.”

“I don’t know about that, but of course we wouldn’t avoid Drew, or you. Family’s family.”

* * *

“Cass, you okay? You don’t sound too good.”

“I’ve been working hard, trying to get everything ready to move, and settling the changeover for the bakery. I’m tired, that’s all.”

“Maybe you need to take a day or two off. You were awfully pale last weekend.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Are you still bleeding like you were? ... Cass?”

“Yes.” Her voice trailed off.

“I’m not an expert on this, but you’ve had your period now for a long time.”

“That’s because I haven’t had it in so many years.”

“So why now?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because my well-endowed boyfriend is insatiable.”

“Your attempt at humor and distraction isn’t going to work. Call the doctor.”

“I told you, I did. She said to give it a few days.”

“It’s been a few days. You need to call her back.”

“I will tomorrow if there’s no change.”

“Let me look at my schedule, maybe I can come down for a night.”

“Drew, women have been menstruating since the beginning of time. We don’t need men holding our hands between cramps. I just need a good night’s sleep. I’m going to finish up here, and then I’ll take tomorrow morning off, maybe sleep in.”

Cassie hung up and finished packing up her small office. After lifting the box onto the kitchen counter she began feeling light-headed. I must have gotten up too quickly.

She was at the sink for some water when a wave of nausea swept over her, and she began to feel weaker right before the spots appeared, blurring her vision. Gripping the countertop for support, she slid to the floor, and that’s where the cleaning crew found her.

* * *

After the EMTs stabilized her and they were on the way to the hospital, they called the last person she’d spoken to. Drew. And he pulled every string he had to get to Baltimore with little delay.

She was still in the emergency room when he arrived at the hospital.

“Hey, sweetheart. How are you?”

“I’m better after some fluids. They did some blood work and an ultrasound. The uterine wall’s unusually thick, which is why I’m bleeding so heavily.”

“Why did it get that way?”

She shrugged. “They’re not sure. The doctor wants to do a D and C, and an endometrial biopsy.”

“A biopsy?”

“It’s probably nothing, but…”

He squeezed her hand. “But…”

“Tamoxifen saves lives, a lot of lives, or at least it buys survivors time, but a small percentage of women who take it develop endometrial cancer.”

“That’s why they want to do the biopsy?”

“Yeah.”

“What are they waiting for?”

“They’re waiting for an operating room to become available. This isn’t an emergency.”

He pulled up a chair near the bed, “Whatever it is Cassie, we’ll get through it.”

“I’m afraid, Drew. The last time they were sure it wasn’t anything, and it turned out to be a malignancy. This time, they’re not so confident.”

He brushed her hair back from her face. “I’m nervous about what you just told me, too, but let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves. Let’s try to take this one step at a time.”

She nodded. “I’m so glad you came.”

“Of course I came, and I’m not leaving this place without you. Have you called your parents?”

“No. I’m going to tell them after it’s over.”

“Cass, are you sure about that?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think it's a good idea.”

“Why not? I’m a grown woman.”

“I know, but it’s not the way you’ve behaved with them in the past. And it’s not going to make them any more comfortable about your health. They’re always going to think you’re hiding something from them. It’ll end up making you crazy.”

“They’re going to want me to get a hysterectomy.”

“Cassie.”

“You weren’t there last time.”

“No, but I’m here this time. Right by your side, and nothing’s going to happen, no decisions are going to be made by anyone but you. Nothing’s happening that you’re not comfortable with—not one damn thing. Not as long as I’m still breathing.”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll support whatever decision you make about your parents or anything else, but since we’re in this together, you’ll always get my unsolicited two cents.”

He listened while she hummed softly for about ten minutes, completely unaware that she was doing it. “You’re right. I’m hiding again. If I tell them after, they’re never going to trust anything I say about my health. They’ll worry needlessly all the time, and I don’t want that. I need to call them and tell them. It’s the right thing for them, and for me.”

He handed her his phone. “I’m right here, sweetheart.”

“Hi, Mom. How are you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Is Dad around?”

“Yes, everything’s fine. Maybe you could put me on speaker so I can talk to both of you at the same time. Yes, I’m sure, everything’s fine.”

When it got to the part of the conversation where she said, “Please don’t come now, let’s wait for the results.” Drew sat on the bed and wrapped both arms around her from behind, and pulled her close to him.

“We’ll call as soon as we have more information. I’ll have Drew call you. Yes, as soon as we know anything. I promise.”

She hung-up and squeezed his arms. “Thank you.”

“Don’t ever thank me for standing with you. That’s where I want to be, always.”

A nurse came into the room to tell Cassie that they were ready for her downstairs.

“I love you, baby. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“I love you, too. Go get some food or a coffee,” was the last thing she said to him before they wheeled her out of the room.

* * *

She stirred before opening her eyes.

“Hey sleepyhead, you’re awake.”

He saw her prodding her belly, and his heart clenched. “Everything’s still there, sweetheart. The doctor came by, and she’ll be back again later. She said the uterine lining was thick, thicker than they like to see, but there was no reason to worry. The preliminary pathology report was fine. They’ll have more information tomorrow, and the final report in a few days.”

“So happy. Would you call my parents?”

“Already done.”

“Thank you.”

“What time is it?”

“About two.”

“Anything good happen while I was asleep?”

“Will and Ella came by. They’re both in D.C. this week. And Reece called, said to tell you that she hasn’t changed her mind about the ruffled frock.”

Cassie smiled. “Reece.”

“Cole offered to talk to the doctor if there’s anything you don’t understand—said he’s happy to. And everyone else has been calling and texting. Sending you good wishes and love.”

“Luke?”

“Nah. But I’m sure he’s talked to my brothers.”

She nodded and squeezed his fingers.

23

Drew sat at his desk, basking in the afterglow of last night, and admiring the picture on the front page of the newspaper taken right after the epic win. The Blues were the American League champs, headed to the World Series. He could hardly believe it. And with Cassie now living in Boston, he was walking on air. He smiled at the paper. The photographer caught them right after Cassie leaped into his arms last night.

His cell phone had been going all morning, and now his desk phone was at it too.

“Harrington.”

“Drew, this is Sally Lyons in Communications.”

“Hey, Sally, surprised to hear from you so early.”

“No rest for the wicked. First, congratulations on last night. What a great win.”

“Congratulations to you, too. We’re all part of the same team.”

“I’m calling because we’ve been inundated by media requests about the woman you were photographed with last night. How do you want us to handle it?”

“Normal protocol. We respect the privacy of all our employees, and have no comment.”

“Not sure that’s going to work this time.”

“Why not?”

“For one thing, the picture of you two in the paper is adorable, and two, she’s already been identified as George Anteros’ daughter. He’s a high-profile business executive, not to mention he owns a box at Yankee Stadium. I have a feeling the press isn’t going away quietly on this one. They’re like a dog with a bone with this kind of stuff.”

“Assembling a division winning team isn’t enough for them, they need details about the women I date?”

“They’re still furious with you about how the whole thing with Ski went down, and there’s more than one of them who’s out for blood. They’d love to embarrass you about Ms. Anteros’ Yankee connection.”

“I don’t embarrass that easily. I’ll field the calls, just send them through.”

“Please tread carefully, Drew, and call me back if you need our help with this.”

“Thanks, Sally.”

Fucking press.

His desk phone rang again, a restricted number. Let the fun begin.

“Harrington.”

“Drew, Jim Rogers here. Team looked good last night, congratulations on the big win.”

“Appreciate that. They made the city proud, but we still have a lot of work ahead of us.”

“Got anything for me, man? Any injuries, Ski holding up? I’m all ears.”

“Nah, Jim, it’s early, and I don’t have anything for you. Sorry.”

“One more thing before I let you go … tell me about your relationship with Cassia Anteros.”

“Come on, Jim. A young, inexperienced Blues team makes it to the World Series, and you want to know about the women I date?”

“Everyone wants to know.”

“Cut me a break.”

“You’ve already had your break, buddy.”

“I gotta go.”

* * *

By the time the day ended, Drew had fielded more calls about Cassie than about baseball. They’d won their series handily, but the National League was still battling it out for a champion. Unfortunately, that gave the Boston press plenty of time to delve into matters outside their normal purview. Speaking of Cassie…

“Hey, Cass.”

“Has my favorite GM spent the day basking in the glory of last night’s fabulous win?”

“He has, but he’s talked to more reporters interested in the cute little number in his arms last night than in baseball.”

“I love that picture in the paper. Any chance you can get a copy of the original?”

“I think that can be arranged, but I’ll be expecting a quid pro quo. Something really spectacular.”

“More spectacular than last night?”

“I don’t think even you can top a division championship and a walk-off homerun.”

“That’s not the part of last night I was talking about.”

“Oh, you mean that little thing we did after the game in my office, when you were sprawled across my desk. Or do you mean the thing in the shower while the water cascaded over your gorgeous body. No, wait, I’ve got it. The thing we did in our bed right before I told you I was the luckiest bastard on earth. I bet your cheeks are pink, aren’t they?”

“You are too full of yourself.”

He laughed. “How’s it going at the tearoom?”

“It’s been a very productive day. All the workers showed up on time, even though they stayed up to watch the game. The win’s been big news around here, and they don’t even know my boyfriend is the sexy Blues’ GM.”

“I’ll call you before I leave and we can pick up takeout for dinner on the way home.”

“That sounds perfect.”

“Cass, I need to go, my inside line’s ringing again.”

“Harrington.”

“Drew, it’s Sally Lyons.”

“Let me guess, they want to know about my family now.”

“No they learned everything they needed to know about your family when you were hired. They’re still on your relationship with Ms. Anteros.”

“Jesus. There’s really not that much to know.”

“They don’t quite see it that way. Do you know she was engaged before?”

“I do.”

“Apparently there are some clips that have been unearthed of the engagement announcement during a Blues-Yankees game.”

“I was there.”

“They also know she’s a breast cancer survivor, and they believe she had a mastectomy.”

“Fuck! How did they find out all this shit in one day? She’s a very private person, Sally, this will be upsetting to her, to say the least. Please tell me they have one shred of decency, and they’re not planning to print this stuff about her?”

“I wouldn’t count decency among Jim Rogers’ character traits.”

“Who else has this information?”

“As far as I know, none of the other outlets have dug that deep. Rogers is going to want to play it close to the vest. He won’t want to get scooped on this.”

“Any ideas about how to stop him?”

“Stop him, no, but we could take some of the sting out with a press release.”

“A press release is just going to whet everyone’s appetite for the main course.”

“You’re probably right. But it would give you and Ms. Anteros some control over the situation. Talk to her, and I’ll keep my cell phone with me. Let me know if you want me to draft a release.”

“Thanks, Sally.”

“Drew, there’s probably not a lot of time to think about this. I wouldn’t be surprised to see the story in tomorrow’s paper.”

* * *

“Wow! I can’t believe how much progress you’ve made since I was here a few days ago.”

She tugged his arm. “Come in the kitchen! They delivered the ovens, and I’m so excited to use them.”

“Yeah.”

“Is everything okay? Are you just tired from a long night?”

“Cassie, let’s sit for second.”

“Okay.”

“Remember how I told you that reporters have been calling all day trying to get information about you?”

She nodded, and he grabbed her hand and held on for dear life. “They know about Ned, the broken engagement, the mastectomy.”

She paled. “Oh, God! Are they going to print it?”

“Sally Lyons, the head of communication, believes they are, maybe as soon as tomorrow’s paper.”

Cassie stood and cupped her elbows, pacing the room while lost in thought.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Is there anything we can do to stop it? Should I speak to a lawyer?”

“We can talk to whomever you’d like, of course, but I spoke with in-house counsel for the Blues, and to my brother Mark on the way over here, and they don’t think we would be successful getting an injunction. And even if we were, little bits of information would leak out anyway. Apparently the courthouse is like sieve.”

Drew’s cell phone rang, and he glanced at the number on the screen. “It’s Mark.”

“Answer it.”

“Yeah? She’s right here with me. Hold on.”

“Cass, Mark has an idea he wants to talk to us about. I’m going to put him on speaker.”

“Go ahead, Mark.”

“Cassie I’m sorry about this shit, but I might have a solution—it’s not perfect, but—”

Drew was growing impatient. “Just spit it out already, for crying out loud.”

“Jolene Harris is the editor of the Sunday Magazine. She’s trustworthy, and she’s a friend. I bet she’d love to print your story.”

“How the hell does that help us?” shouted Drew.

“Same people who sign her paycheck, sign Jim Rogers’ paycheck. I guarantee they’ll stop his little article from being printed tomorrow if you promise her a full spread exclusive, with glossy pictures of the two of you together. You’re never going to completely squelch it. The best you’ll do is to have some measure of control over what’s printed. She’ll write a story that won’t make you cringe as much as the one he’ll write. I promise you that.”

“This is absolutely the dum—”

“Let’s do it.”

“Cassie, we’re talking the Boston Sunday Magazine. Everybody and their mother reads that. Not everyone reads Jim Rogers’ columns.”

“Mark’s right, if every sordid detail of my life is going to be made public, then I want to tell the story my way. I don’t want it written by some slimeball who has a vendetta against you.”

She reached for Drew’s hand and squeezed. “Mark, please call your friend.”

* * *

Drew was up at the crack of dawn to read the Sunday Magazine. Jolene Harris had sent them a copy of the article last night, and he wanted to be sure what she sent was what had actually been printed. The article had been focused on their love story. His own struggle with depression, Cassie’s engagement to Ned, and her breast cancer were all mentioned, but not explored in depth. It was a tasteful piece that both he and Cassie could live with. In many ways it would have been beautiful if it hadn’t made public so many things they preferred to keep private. But in some ways having everything out in the open was freeing.

The next time they were in the spotlight, like when he asked her to marry him, it would all be moot. And he planned to ask her right after the season was over.

“Wake up, sleepyhead.”

“I’m awake, lolling in bed until my boyfriend brings me the breakfast he promised.”

“I have it right here, as promised.”

“What did you make?” she asked burrowing under the covers.

“Coffee, tea, bagels, cream cheese and grapes.”

“Oh good, you didn’t actually cook anything.”

He pinched her bottom, and she squealed.

“Time to get up, lazy bones.”

“Did you bring the Sunday Magazine?”

“I did. Are you sure you want to read it while you eat?”

“Jolene sent us a copy of the article, so I already know what’s in it.”

“You haven’t seen the pictures. And who knows? Maybe they printed the one with the big wart on your nose.”

She swatted him playfully on the leg. “I don’t have any warts on my nose.”

“If you say so,” he said, sliding under the covers with her, bagels and the Sunday Magazine all but forgotten.

Epilogue

“Hey, gorgeous.”

“Hey, yourself,” she said, looping her arms around his neck.

“I love that this place is on my way home. I can meet my girlfriend after work, walk her home, or take her out to dinner to celebrate all her hard work.”

“So what do you think?”

“I think it looks fabulous. You’re going to have lines around the block when you open the doors next week.”

“What time’s our dinner reservation?”

“We have a little while.”

“You know we haven’t christened that counter yet.” She tugged on his tie with a saucy smile.

“You’re a bad influence. Very bad.” He kissed her. “Please don’t stop. Don’t ever stop, but we don’t have that much time tonight,” he murmured between kisses.

“Not even for a quickie?”

He groaned. “No.”

“Too bad.”

“I’ll make it up to you later, but don’t count on a quickie. Wait right here, I need to get something. I’ll be right back.”

He opened the outside door and carried in a large, square package covered in brown paper.

“What is it?”

“Open it.”

She gently untaped the brown wrapping and gasped. “Oh, my God! It’s Lola’s scarf. You had it framed.” Her hands were trembling.

“Helena helped me pick out the frame. It didn’t cause any damage to the scarf, so if you don’t like it, we can take it out, and you can tuck it back in your drawer.”

“I love it!” She threw her arms around him, “And I love you.”

“Where will you hang it?”

She carried the frame over to the foyer area. “It would be beautiful right here at the entrance, where guests can admire it while they wait to be seated. It’ll be the first thing they see when they walk in. It’s the perfect spot.”

“I think so too. Come on back into the kitchen. I have another present for you.”

“Another one? This is like Christmas.”

He lifted her onto the counter and placed a small velvet box in her hands. His hands were the ones trembling now, and he rested them on her legs to steady the tremor while he waited for her to open the box.

She stared at it for a long time before looking up at him through thick, dark lashes. He watched her take in a big breath before opening the tiny box. When she lifted the lid, a stunning diamond ring, sitting on a satin cushion, peeked up at her. The stone glimmered against the laurel leaves woven through the platinum band.

“I know it’s not a traditional engagement ring, but I wanted you to have something different from last time, and this just seemed right.” He shrugged. “Laurel wreaths are presented to the victorious. When life gets too hard, when obstacles seem too big, when hope has all but checked out, I want the laurels to remind us of how far we came to find each other again. To remind us that where there’s love, all things are possible. Marry me, Cassie. Let me love you forever.”

Tears were trickling down her cheeks. “That’s so beautiful. This is so beautiful,” she sniffled.

“If you just say yes, I’ll slip it on your finger.”

“Yes.” She cradled his cheek. “I loved you from the very moment we met. There have been times when you’ve been gone from my sight, from my arms, even from my mind, but there has never been a single second, not one, that you’ve been gone from my heart. Yes, I’ll marry you, and love you forever.”

She kissed him and he kissed her back. “Are you sure we don’t have time to make good use of the counter?”

“Normally I’d say yes, so don’t be afraid to ask again. But not tonight, because I’m pretty sure our guests would think it was unsavory. Plus, I don’t want to push my luck too far with your dad. I think he’d be pretty pissed if you were naked on the counter when he walked in, and he’d never believe it was all your idea.”

“Guests? My father?”

“Uh huh,” he nodded, placing a small kiss on her nose.

“We’re having a little potluck to celebrate our engagement. Just family, mine and yours, and Reece, of course, since she’s family too. It’s important to have the people we love around to share our joys and sorrows. So we’re never alone.”

She smiled up at him. “What would you have done if I said I’m not sure, or I need more time to think about it?”

“I would have killed Reece.”

“Reece? Tell me.” She tugged at his tie.

“I talked to her about the possibility of asking you to marry me and then having everyone together to celebrate with us, and she thought it was a great idea. When I hedged, worrying that you might say no, she assured me you would say yes. And then she went off on some tangent about Minnie Mouse and Kermit, and told me to grow a pair.”

Cassie snorted. “Did you say we’re having a potluck?”

“That’s what I said. I planned on using a caterer, and having them prepare Greek and Portuguese food. But apparently the Greek food in Boston isn’t up to snuff.”

“My mother?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Sorry,” she said rolling her eyes and suppressing a giggle.

“Don’t be, my grandmother agreed with her.”

“Your grandmother doesn’t like the Greek food in Boston, either?”

“My grandmother doesn’t like any food that doesn’t come out of her kitchen.”

“So we’re having a Mediterranean feast tonight?”

“A blending of the cultures,” he said, cradling the back of her head while their tongues danced, until car doors began slamming outside the kitchen window. “I think our guests are starting to arrive.”

“We’ll have our own celebration later, after they’ve all gone home.”

* * *

After wiping down all the counters with name-brand glass cleaner, the older women laid out a feast. Salad with cucumbers, tomatoes, and large chunks of feta, spanakopita, codfish balls, skewers of lamb and beef, shrimp in a spicy garlic sauce, moussaka, arroz doce, and layers of golden phyllo filled with nuts and drizzled with honey. The leftovers would feed them all for a week.

Cassie was in the kitchen getting some extra silverware when she heard a knock at the back door. Luke. Thank God. She was sure he wouldn’t bother to come, which would have broken Drew’s heart.

“Hey. I saw you through the window, and figured since I’m family it would be okay to come in through the back door.” Like his brothers, Luke was tall and handsome, with deep blue eyes and that tiny Harrington cleft in his chin that enhanced his strong features, along with a smile that could melt the panties off an ice queen.

Cassie was so happy to see him, she wanted to throw her arms around his neck and give him a big kiss. But things had been so frosty between them that she didn’t dare. “I’m so glad you came. I wasn’t sure you would, but your brothers and your cousins never doubted you’d be here. Drew will be very happy to see you.”

“I’ve been in D.C. for a few days, my flight was delayed, and I needed to make a stop before I came. Nothing could have kept me away from the celebration. Drew’s my brother.”

“Luke…”

“Cassie, let me say what I have to say first, and then you can have a chance.”

Luke looked away for a moment, and then met her eyes. “I love my brother, and it was tough watching him, watching everyone, after my parents died—helpless to make anyone’s pain better. I want him to be happy. That’s all I care about. You make him happy, happier than I’ve ever seen him, and that’s all that really matters. Nothing else.”

“I hope someday we can be friends again,” she said, touching his sleeve. “That you’ll be able to move past the feeling that I’m selfish, that Drew could do better. I love him Luke, with all my heart, and he loves me. But he also loves you, and I know he wants you to be a part of our life, and I want that too.” It was becoming difficult to hold back the tears.

“We’re already friends, Cassie, and soon we’ll officially be family. But I’ve thought about you as family for a long time. And you’re not the one being selfish. As Alexa so articulately pointed out, I was the one being selfish. Don’t let her sweet demeanor fool you, she has quite a way with words.”

“That’s what I’ve heard.”

* * *

Drew spied them through the glass in the door. What the hell! Whatever Luke was saying looked serious, and Cassie was crying.

He pushed open the heavy kitchen door like it was weighed nothing. “Hey.” He glared at his brother. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“It’s fine,” Cassie said softly, reaching for Drew’s hand.

“No, it’s not fine.”

“Let me finish,” Luke said.

“You’re finished.”

“Let—”

“Not tonight buddy, or ever. You have one hell of a nerve coming in here talking a bunch of shit to the woman who’s going to be my wife, and tonight of all nights. You’re damn lucky we have a room full of guests out there.”

“Are you done?”

“No, I’m not done.”

“Well neither am I, and I was here first. So shut up and listen.” Luke turned his attention back to Cassie. “I have an engagement present for you.” He pulled a satin-covered box from his coat pocket and handed it to her.

Everyone’s attention was on the rectangular box. “May I open it?”

Luke nodded. “Please.”

She lifted the lid to find a gold necklace with a daisy-shaped pendant.

“It belonged to…”

“Your mom. She was wearing it the night we all had dinner before they left for their trip. She had on a white sundress dress with yellow ribbons woven through it, and cute little sandals. I wondered how someone so petite and pretty could have given birth to six monsters. And she had on this necklace that matched her dress.” Cassie caressed it with her fingertip. “Your father had it made for her birthday.”

Luke nodded. “I was standing nearby when you complimented her on it. And she said, ‘after I have it to myself for a little while longer, you can borrow it. It’ll be beautiful on you.’ I remember thinking, wow, she must really like Cassie. She must be really special, because otherwise Mom would have never offered to lend her something Dad had given her. Right then, I thought you’d be part of our lives forever. And then they were gone, and you were gone, too… I’m so happy my brother found you again, not just for him, but for all of us.”

“Luke. I don’t know what to say. I’m not sure…”

“That necklace belongs to you.”

“I’m so touched that you’d even think of giving this to me. But are you sure you want me to have it? It was the last birthday present, maybe the last present your dad gave your mom. One of you might have a daughter someday.”

“It doesn’t matter how many daughters we have, it’s yours Cassie. I’m sure.”

She wrapped her arms around Luke and laid her head on his chest. And not more than a second or two passed before another large pair of arms wound around both of them.

“Thank you,” Drew murmured to his brother in a low, husky voice.

* * *

“Tonight was wonderful! Unbelievably, perfectly, stupendously wonderful. Have I thanked you enough?”

“If you thank me any more, baby, you’ll need to call for an ambulance.”

She snuggled into his chest. “I can’t believe you were able to arrange the Skype with my grandparents. You thought of everything.”

“I wish I could take credit for every good idea tonight, but I had lots of help from a posse of women, young and old, who love a good romance. Even Reece surprised me with what a girl she is.”

“I’m going to tell her you said that.”

“I already did, not to her face, of course. Over the phone.”

“I was thinking about the wedding tonight.”

He pulled her in tighter. “Yeah, what were you thinking?”

“Would you be okay with a small, intimate affair? Maybe just family and a few close friends.”

“I would love that. We can have a bigger party sometime after that includes the team, because I’ve gotten pretty close to those guys. But I don’t need a mob scene at the wedding. And we can get married wherever you want.”

“Wherever, really?”

“As long as the location isn’t a ballpark in the Bronx where the players wear pinstripes. Even your gorgeous body and your very talented mouth couldn’t persuade me to do that.”

“What ballpark would that be?”

“That name is never to pass your lips in our bed.” He pinched her behind.

“Ouch, you brute!” she said, swatting his hand, and then erupting into a fit of giggles when he began to tickle her.

“Do you have a place in mind?”

“I kind of do. Having everyone together made me wonder… How would you feel about getting married in Greece, where my grandparents live?”

“Hmm, Greece. I think it has real possibilities. As long as we’re careful about the timing, everyone should be able to get there. Jake’s schedule is probably the least flexible, especially during the fall. But we wouldn’t want to get married then anyway, because I expect my boys will still be playing when the leaves begin to turn. We might have fallen a bit short this year, but next year, I have a feeling the Commissioner’s Trophy is coming to our clubhouse.”

Cassie smiled. “If we use my dad’s plane, do you think Vovó could make the trip?”

“I don’t see why not. Did you see her dancing with Lily tonight? She’s a pistol.”

“Even with a lot of assistance, my grandparents can’t make the trip to the states, and I’d love for them to be part of our celebration.”

“The more I think about it, the more I like the idea. We can honeymoon in the Mediterranean. Let the Mediterranean sun rejuvenate us.”

“Why will we need to be rejuvenated?”

“I have big plans for the honeymoon, big, big plans,” he said, trapping her hips under his, and placing a heated kiss on her lips.

Thank you for reading Drew and Cassie’s story! If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving a review so that others can find it too.

Acknowledgments

A colossal thank you to Editor Faith Freewoman, who loved and supported the idea for the book right from the start. Your support gave me the freedom and courage to write freely about a sensitive subject.

A very big thank you to Sarah Hansen of Okay Creations, who created another work of art. I hope my story is deserving of your beautiful cover.

A huge thank you to the many bloggers who reviewed and promoted the book. I appreciate your time and generosity more than any words can ever express. Your ongoing support allows me to continue to write.

A heartfelt thank-you to the readers who purchased the book, told friends about it, left a review, or contacted me with some kind words or a helpful suggestion. I am always humbled by your generosity and support.

To Andy, the love of my life, even after all these years, you’re still the one.

About the Author

After being a confirmed city girl for more than thirty-five years, Eva moved to beautiful western Massachusetts in 2014. There, she found herself living in the woods with no job, no friends (unless you count the turkey, deer, and coyote roaming the backyard), and no children underfoot, wondering what on earth she’d been thinking. But as it turned out, it was the perfect setting to take all those yarns spinning in her head and weave them into a romantic tale.

When she’s not writing, trying to squeeze information out of her tight-lipped sons, or playing with the two cutest dogs you’ve ever seen, Eva’s creating chapters in her own love story.

Eva loves to hear from her readers

evacharles.com

evacharlesauthor@gmail.com

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