The same way I do, but we could be together again. “Let me take you home and take care of you. Please, Blueberry.” My old name for her.

“I miss Daddy.”

The words punched me in the heart. “I know,” I whispered, petting her head again, savoring the sleek curve of her skull. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s go.”

Lily opened her eyes and looked at me for a second, and I saw how tired she was, how empty, and all I wanted was to save her.

But then the bathroom door squeaked, and in came Amy. “Um...are you two okay?” she asked.

For one second, I thought Lily might choose me. For one second, her eyes said something other than disgust.

Then she looked at Amy. “I had the pukes,” she said brightly, struggling to stand up. “I feel better now. Do you have any gum?”

“Yeah. You sure you’re all right?”

“Totally. Just not used to that, you know?” She rinsed her mouth out and spit into the sink, somehow making it not look gross.

Amy glanced at me, then back at my sister. “Lily...um, watch out for Luke, okay? He gets around.”

“I know.”

Amy looked at me again.

“Why don’t you come home with me?” I said. “Lily? I think it’s best if we go home.”

She glanced at me in the mirror. “I’m staying, Nora,” she said, her voice full of contempt. Whatever moment we’d had was dead.

The tears gathered in my throat. “Okay,” I whispered. I kept my eyes on the floor, the ugly beige-tiled floor, and stood there as Amy gave my sister the gum and they chattered and laughed and then, finally, left.

You wonder how much abuse you can take and still love someone. You wonder how long they can treat you like nothing but still want them back. You wonder how many years it will take to forget how things used to be, how long you’ll burn yourself with that tiny ember of hope before the deluge of their neglect drowns it.

A long time, in my case. A long, lonely time.

* * *

On Thursday about an hour after I got home from work, Sullivan Fletcher called and asked if he could take me out to dinner. “To thank you for everything you’ve done for Audrey,” he said.

“Um...sure!” I said. I’d been sitting on my couch in a tank top and pajama bottoms, watching the news (always a bad idea), eating sunflower seeds and fantasizing about cheese.

“How about Stone Cellar?” he suggested, naming the chic restaurant I hadn’t yet graced with my presence. “Pick you up in an hour?”

“Sure!” I chirped again. “See you then!”

I hung up, then ran to my room. It wasn’t a date, per se. I shouldn’t treat it like a date. It was a parent who wanted to thank me for being (cough) a brilliant doctor, because yes, Audrey’s diagnosis had been confirmed in Boston. Sullivan probably wanted to ask me a bunch of questions about treatment and such.

Which didn’t mean I couldn’t dress up a little.

I’d given up on my hair here in Maine. My flatiron was no match for life on a windy island where it rained a lot. I pulled it back into a ponytail, though, and put on a pair of cropped jeans, a cute pink peasant blouse and a suede jacket. Sandals with a stacked heel, a little blush, a little mascara, and voilà. I was date ready, even if it wasn’t a date.

“How do I look?” I asked the Dog of Dogs.

“Beautiful,” he said. Well, his eyes said it. I fondled his silky ears and gazed into his loving eyes. Dogs. The best work God had ever done.

Sullivan arrived five minutes early. He looked like he’d come right from the boatyard—faded jeans and a T-shirt, making me glad I hadn’t tried too hard (pause for laughter). Despite it being June, a chilly wind gusted. It would be in the forties tonight, for crying out loud.

“Hey,” he said. “You ready?”

It was Maine. Conversation wasn’t really our thing. “You bet.” I turned on the porch light, and off we went.

“So this is unexpected,” I said as we bounced down Spruce Brook Road in his pickup.

Sully didn’t answer. Right. He was deaf in that ear, and unless he turned his head, he wouldn’t be able to hear me. He glanced at me, didn’t smile and glanced back at the road.

It was a little odd. Something I’d have to get used to, no car chatting. Or no, I wouldn’t have to get used to it. I was only here for the summer. Riding with Sullivan Fletcher wasn’t going to be a regular thing.

Fifteen silent minutes later, we were seated at a table in the restaurant, a newer place, a perfect mix of comfortable and posh. “Your server will be right with you,” said the maître d’, handing us the menus.

“Thank you,” Sully said, looking at his.

The restaurant was fairly full with the pleasant rattle and hum of food preparation. “Thank you for asking me out,” I said.

No answer.

Right. I touched his hand. He looked up. “Hey. This is nice. Thank you.”

He looked at me a long minute. “This is really nice,” I repeated.

“Well. The least I could do.”

“Audrey stopped by yesterday. She’s pretty excited.”

“Yeah. Weird for a kid to be psyched about surgery.” But he smiled, and if he was nervous the way I was, it cracked for a minute.

“Hi, I’m Amy, and I’ll be your—oh.”

We looked up. There was his ex-wife, pad in hand. Her face was frozen. Sullivan stood up. “When did you start working here?” he asked.

“Yesterday.”

“You should’ve told me.”

“What I do is none of your business.”

“Of course, it is. We’ve had this conversation, Amy.”

“Well, you’re not exactly falling over yourself to fill me in on things, are you?” she said, gesturing with her elbow at me. “If you have a girlfriend, don’t you think I should know?”

No, this wasn’t awkward at all.

“Hey,” I said. “How are you, Amy? I’m not his girlfriend.”

“Right,” she said. “So. Listen. Thank you for Audrey. We went to Boston on Monday, and she’s good to go for surgery. Me and Sully, we owe you big-time.”

They were still both standing. “Why don’t you sit down for a second?” I asked. “Pull up a chair. Sully asked me out so he could pump me for information. Do you have any questions about the procedure or recovery or anything?”

Sullivan sat back down. I was fairly sure he’d missed everything I just said.

Amy hesitated. “I gotta work.”

“Here.” I fished a pen and gas receipt out of my purse and wrote down my cell number. “Call me for anything. Audrey’s a sweet kid, and I really like her. You’ve done a great job raising her.”

Amy’s face softened. “Thanks,” she said quietly. “Okay. Drinks, you two? Sully, you want a Sam’s Summer?”

“Sure,” he said. “Thank you.”

“I’ll have a mojito,” I said. “Supposedly, it’s summertime, no matter what the weather says.”

“Be right back.” She snapped her pad shut and walked away.

Sullivan and I looked at each other. “My ex-wife is our server tonight,” he said, and we both laughed.

“It’s okay. She’s still very...” Think of something nice to say, Nora. I glanced at the menu. Succulent? No. “So pretty.”