Author: Kristan Higgins

When Trevor and I kissed, I felt hot and shaky and weak and strong at the same time. When he touched me, there was not just a tingle, there was a jolt. There was no meat loaf, no sir. Gourmet all the way.

For that short time, it felt like my heart had locked into the place where it was meant to be. There was that pulse of perfection, two pieces fused together so it seemed that there was only one. My heart had fit with Trevor’s like that.

I think back to our breakup under the chestnut tree. I think of the summer he brought Perfect Hayden home. The years that have passed without him ever indicating anything but fraternal affection for me. So much for hearts fitting.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

TWO DAYS LATER, I PASS my practical and become a licensed emergency medical technician. To my surprise, Jack was one of the instructors at the test, and word quickly spread throughout the realm that Chastity had aced her test. Now there is great rejoicing in the land, or at least in Emo’s.

“To Lou Gehrig, pride of the Yankees,” Dad says, honoring the tradition of toasting St. Lou before anyone else. “And to my daughter, Chastity. Good job, Porkchop.”

“To the Porkchop,” my brothers echo.

“Thanks, Daddy. Thanks, everyone.” I grin. This little impromptu party is quite a thrill. We take up two tables and our usual booth. Dad’s platoon and all my brothers are here, as well as Elaina and the Starahs. And Trevor, who actually was supposed to work but arranged a swap so he could be here. He catches me looking at him and smiles. I smile back, then, feeling guilty, glance toward the door to see if Ryan has appeared. Unfortunately, one of his patients had some postoperative complications, and he’s running late.

Dad, Mark, Lucky and Matt wander off to shoot some pool. Elaina is on her cell phone, talking to the babysitter. Jake and Santo go to watch the Mets game. Soon, just Jack, Sarah, Trevor and I are sitting in the Gehrig booth.

“So, Chas, what’s next? Paramedic school?” Jack asks, gazing at his wife. He reaches out and strokes her cheek. Sarah closes her eyes like a cat, practically purring. The two years Jack spent in Afghanistan made them even more in love, and I smile, touched that Jack is still so smitten by his wife.

“No paramedic school, Jack,” I answer. “I don’t really know what I’m going to do with this. I’m still not really a natural. Passing the test was kind of easy, but in the real world…” My voice trails off.

“You’d be great,” Trevor reassures me.

“You’re a loyal man, Trevor Meade,” I tell him. He grins. “So, Sarah,” I continue, “how are you these days?”

“Not bad, considering,” she answers. “Jack, do you want to tell her?”

Jack straightens up and smiles. “We’re expecting another baby.”

“Aw! I thought so!” I exclaim, leaning over to kiss Sarah and punching Jack on the shoulder. “Congratulations, guys! That’s fantastic. Wow! Five kids! Holy crap!”

Somewhere in my genuine happiness for my oldest brother and his lovely wife is, I’ll admit, a healthy dose of envy. They met in college, married, produced a tribe of gorgeous children and Jack still looks at her with bedroom eyes.

“If anyone can handle it, you guys can,” Trevor says, raising his beer glass to the happy couple.

“Thanks, bud,” Jack says. “Hey, how’s Hayden? You guys back together?”

“Jack! None of your business,” Sarah says. “Excuse me, guys, I have to pee. Every ten minutes, it seems.”

I wait for Trevor to answer. He doesn’t.

“What about you, Chas?” Jack asks. “You serious with what’s-his-name?”

“Ryan,” Trevor supplies.

I glance at him. “Yeah. Sure. I met his family, did I tell you?”

“And how was that?” Jack asks.

“Freakish and bizarre,” I answer.

My brother laughs. “Well, family’s important. If you hate the in-laws, beware, kiddo.” He stands up. “They’re playing our song,” he says. “Gotta go dance with the wife.” He ruffles my hair and goes to intercept Sarah on her way back from the loo. The strains of “Brown-Eyed Girl” float from the jukebox. So bleeping sweet.

Which leaves Trevor and me, sitting across from each other under the smiling eyes and dimples of St. Lou.

“So,” I say. “Hayden.”

He nods.

“Spill, Trevor,” I order.

He grins. “Yes, sir.” Then he stalls, taking a sip of Guinness. “We’re…we’re trying to see if things might work out this time.”

Which could mean anything. “I never really heard why you broke up in the first place, Trev,” I nudge.

He looks at me, his eyes so dark and serious that I feel that jolt right through my middle. I have to physically stop myself from reaching out to touch him. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes, but he takes another sip of his beer and looks up. “Speaking of relationships, here’s your guy.”

“Hello,” Ryan says, sliding in next to me. He shakes Trevor’s hand. “Good to see you, Trevor.” He turns to me, sliding his arm around my shoulders. “Well?”

“I passed,” I smile.

He smiles back. “Of course you did. Congratulations, hon.” He kisses my cheek and takes something out of his pocket and puts it on the table in front of me. It’s a slim, rectangular black velvet box. I stare at it, vaguely uneasy, and glance at Trevor, who smiles and gives a quick nod.

“Wow! This is, um, very…unexpected,” I babble.

“Open it,” Ryan says.

I do. Inside the box is an absolutely lovely (that is to say, expensive) pearl-and-ruby bracelet. “Holy crap,” I breathe. “I mean, wow. This is…oh, wow.” Filigree gold twines the gems together in a delicate pattern. It’s the prettiest piece of jewelry imaginable, but for some reason, there’s a lump in my throat, a sad lump.

“Thank you,” I manage in a strangled whisper. “It’s beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you,” Ryan says. He takes it out of the box and fastens it around my wrist, and as he’s doing so, I tell myself not to look up at Trevor. But I do. Ryan fiddles with the clasp, and I look at Trevor and see that his smile is gone and there’s a odd, blank look on his face. But then his left eyebrow bounces up and he looks impish and adorable again.

“Hi, all,” comes a voice. A body follows. Perfect Hayden slides into the booth next to Trevor and slips her arm under his. “Hello. I’m Hayden Simms.” She smiles at Ryan.

“Ryan Darling,” he murmurs, reaching out to shake her hand.

“Hi, Hayden,” I mutter.

“What a pretty bracelet!” She cocks her head, then leans her cheek on Trevor’s shoulder. Trevor doesn’t exactly encourage her, but he sure as heck doesn’t inch away, either.

“Yeah, very pretty,” he says. “Nicely done, Ryan.” He looks at Hayden. “Well. Want to get a drink, Hayden? We’ll see you guys later.” With that, they slip out of the booth and head for the bar. Good. I still don’t like her, no matter how sunshiny cute she is.

“Nice to meet you, Hayden,” Ryan says before turning to me. “You really like it, Chastity?”

“It’s so beautiful. Ryan. Thank you. That was really sweet of you.”

He smiles. “Is your father here? I’d like to meet him.”

“Sure! Yes! He’s over there, with the boys. Come on, I’ll introduce you.” We go over the pool table. “Dad, this is Ryan Darling. Ryan, my father, Captain Mike O’Neill of the Eaton Falls Fire Department.”

“Very nice to meet you, sir,” Ryan says, shaking hands. “Your daughter’s told me a lot about you.”

Dad slings his arm around my shoulders. “About time I met you, young man.” I elbow him sharply in the ribs. “Nice to meet you, too. So. Are your intentions honorable?”

My brothers roar with laughter. Ryan smiles too, but says, “Yes, sir, they are.”

“Let’s sit down, then, and have a little talk.” Dad puts his hand on Ryan’s shoulder and steers him back to the Gehrig booth we just vacated.

“They need to work out your dowry, Chas,” Mark comments. “Come on, take Dad’s place.”

I oblige, sinking the six ball with a nice bit of backspin. “How are things with you, Mark?” I ask quietly.

“Better,” he says. “Has Elaina said anything to you?” He glances over to his wife, who is laughing with Tara at the bar, just a few feet down from Trevor and Perfect Hayden.

“A little,” I admit. “Four ball in the corner, brothers o’mine.”

“I’m moving back in,” Mark murmurs.

“Oh, Mark! That’s great, buddy!” I give him a hug.

“Are we playing pool or reliving Dr. Phil?” Lucky asks.

“Shut up, Lucky,” I say. “Two ball, side pocket, move your hand, Matt.” Click, clack, thunk. The ball sinks as I predicted.

“Well, you know, it’ll be nice for Dylan.” Mark smiles and gives a sheepish nod. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” I say.

“Can you guys hurry up and win?” Lucky asks. “My wife is giving me the look.”

I sink the fourteen, but miss on the ten. “Your turn,” I say. A peal of laughter comes from the general direction of Perfect Hayden, but I don’t look over.

Lucky lines up his shot and misses, and Matt bemoans the fact that he got the worst pool player of our clan as his partner. Dad and Ryan are talking, laughing a little. Nice. My boyfriend and my dad are getting along great. Good. Great, in fact.

Mark sinks the eight ball. “Pay up, suckers,” he orders Matt and Lucky, who hand over their money.

Then Lucky looks up and grimaces. “Uh-oh, guys.”

Dad is sitting like a Labrador retriever who’s scented a pheasant. Ryan glances in the direction of Dad’s gaze, as do we all.

Uh-oh is right. Through the French doors that divide Emo’s bar from the restaurant, we can see Mom and Harry just taking their seats. And my father’s face is like thunder. My heart starts to thud sickly in my throat.

Jack goes over to Dad and puts a hand on his arm. “This is getting out of hand,” my father barks. More than a few people quiet down. Mark and Lucky walk cautiously over to join Jack. I know they won’t let Dad start a fight, but they don’t want to embarrass him, either.

“Back off, boys,” my father mutters. He strides over to the French doors and stands there, staring at his wife and her boyfriend.

“What’s this about?” Ryan asks, coming to my side. He puts his arm around me and kisses my neck.

“Not now, Ryan,” I say, stepping away. “My parents—”

Mom is staring back at Dad, not defiantly, not with anger or arrogance. She just looks at him through the doors. Harry is studying the wine list, looks up and sees Dad, as well. He hesitates, says something to my mom, and she looks away.

At that moment, my father seems to swell in rage. He starts forward, but Jack jerks him back. Dad wheels on his oldest son, his face furious.

“Get your hands off me, John,” he snarls, actually shoving Jack.

A lightning sheet of panic flashes through me. Oh, God, if Dad makes a scene, it’ll be awful.

Then Trevor is there, Trev who has always looked up to Dad, and in recent months has looked after him, as well. He steps between Jack and my father, says something in a low voice. Dad’s jaw is clenched and his eyes cut back and forth between Jack and Trev. Then he looks down, and the moment is over. Trevor nods, squeezes Dad’s shoulder, and Dad walks back toward our booth.

“Dad?” I say, my voice a little shaky.