Author: Kristan Higgins

“Lucy and I are together,” Ethan interrupts. “You can have a problem with it—you already do, I gather—or you can accept it. Obviously, it would be easier if you thought I was good enough for her, but then again, that would negate your little Italian melodrama. Still, if you want to stay on good terms with your one surviving son, who happens to be the father of your only grandchild, you might want to mind your manners.”

“Watch how you talk to your mother,” Gianni growls.

“Ethan, you can’t blame us for being shocked,” Marie tuts. “We just found you doing God knows what with Jimmy’s wife.”

Ethan closes his eyes briefly, and I reach out without thinking and take his hand. He looks at me, his eyes unreadable.

“This is just…ah!” Gianni says, rubbing his chest with vigor. “Isn’t it against the law or something? A man can’t just…” He pauses, giving his son a condemning stare. “Can’t just take his brother’s wife.”

“She’s not anyone’s wife,” Ethan growls. “She’s a widow.”

“Your brother’s widow,” Marie adds.

“Thanks, Ma. I forgot.”

“Always with the sarcasm, you,” Gianni snarls. The muscle under Ethan’s eye ticks.

There’s an uncomfortable silence. “So let’s change the subject a little,” I say, since it’s clear no one is going to leave happy tonight. “You’ve come back to Rhode Island. What’s the plan?” I pause. “I’m guessing from the suitcases in the hall, you’d like to stay here.”

“Not if we’re not welcome,” Gianni grumbles.

“You’re welcome. Of course you are,” I assure them, my heart sinking even further.

“I’d be happy to put you up in a hotel,” Ethan offers.

“What would we do in a hotel?” Marie asks. “Hotels are for rich people. You might be rich, Ethan. We’re not rich. Hotels are for people with no family.”

“Then you’ll stay at my place,” Ethan orders, and I mentally thank him with all my heart. I love my in-laws, but God in heaven, I don’t want to live with them. And while Ethan probably feels that sentiment a million times more, they are his parents.

“You can stay here,” I whisper to him.

“Oh, so now you’re living in sin?” Gianni asks. “Nice, Ethan. At least Jimmy married her.”

A THOUSAND YEARS AND FIVE SLICES of pound cake later, the Mirabellis depart for Ethan’s apartment. “You guys go ahead,” Ethan says. “I need to talk to Lucy.”

“Sleep well,” I call to their backs.

“You, too, sweetheart,” Marie answers. “Thank you for the pound cake. It was just lovely.”

“We’re glad you’re back,” I say, knowing this will eventually be true.

“Leave the luggage, Dad,” Ethan says. “I’ll bring it up in ten minutes.”

Gianni gives him a baleful look and grabs the handle of the biggest bag and begins dragging it toward the elevator. I’d rather have another coronary than let you help me, whippersnapper.

The door finally closes behind them. Ethan picks up the cups and carries them into the kitchen, and I follow with the plate of pound cake (sneaking in a bite of the remaining piece, not wanting Ethan to know I’m starving, since it seems insensitive).

“Gosh, that was fun,” I say, hoping to get a smile from my buddy there. I don’t. “So,” I continue. “What’s it like to be arrapato for your brother’s moglie?

“Not funny, Lucy.” Ethan folds his arms and stares at me.

“Sorry,” I mutter, my figurative tail dropping between my legs.

“You said you were going to tell them,” he reminds me.

“I didn’t,” I answer.

“Yes. I got that.” His jaw looks like he’s grinding diamonds between his molars.

“Well, Ethan, I certainly wish I had,” I say with undeniable sincerity.

“So why didn’t you?” he asks, looking over my head to burn a hole in the wall.

“I…I don’t know.” I sag against the cool granite of the counter at my back.

“Then I’ll assume you didn’t tell them because you’re either a coward or you’re not sure we’ll work out,” he says evenly.

“Or both,” I suggest, wishing I had the kind of sense of humor that would disappear, rather than mushroom, during tense events.

He drags his eyes to mine. Funny how they can look as inviting as a warm cookie sometimes, as forbidding as granite at others. They’re definitely on the stony side now. “Have you told your family?” he asks.

“Well, I tried. Today, actually, at our meeting. But then Rose wanted to talk about her skin tags, and Mom brought up Botox…you know how it is.” He looks as if he doesn’t know how it is. Not at all. “I told Jorge, though,” I offer.

“You told your mute assistant. Anyone else?”

“Um…”

“I see.” His jaw is so tight I won’t be surprised if he spits out chunks of his own teeth.

“Ethan, why don’t we sit down and—”

“I’m fine standing, actually.”

“Okay.” I consider putting my hand on his arm, then reconsider. “Ethan, here’s the thing, and I know you don’t like to talk about it, but here it is.” He lifts an eyebrow. “I’m scared.”

“That’s clear, Lucy. When do you think you’ll get over that?” Then he seems to realize how harsh he sounds, because he looks down. “I’m sorry,” he mutters.

I take a deep breath. “Ethan, look. When Jimmy died,” I say now, my voice near a whisper, “it changed me. I loved who I was back then, this dopey, happy bride, half of a couple. I loved thinking about the rest of my life. And when he hit that tree…”

Something flickers through Ethan’s eyes and he gives a half nod, asking me to continue.

“Ethan, you know—you know better than anyone—how hard it was to crawl back from that sloppy mess you used to scrape off the floor every weekend. I had to…I don’t know. Grow scar tissue over my heart, just so I could get through the days. And there have been so many days, Ethan.” My voice grows rough with tears, and I clear my throat.

“Lucy, I do know all this,” Ethan says. His voice is quiet, but still tight. “But you have to decide when you’re going to…deem me worthy or whatever.”

I swallow. Again. “You are worthy, Ethan. The thing is, when I lost Jimmy, I lost me, too.” I pause. “I’m just not sure if I can do that again. It’s not that I don’t…”

It’s not that I don’t love you. The words are obvious, if unspoken. “It’s not that I don’t care about you, Ethan. You know I do.”

He seems to know it’s the best I can do for now. His gaze drops to the floor.

“You said you’d be patient,” I whisper.

“I’m trying,” he says. “But I can’t wait forever, either.”

“I’m trying, too!” I blurt. “Can’t you see that? The whole thing on the couch just now, and on the sailboat…I’m trying, Ethan!”

He jams his fists in his pockets. “Well, thank you so much, Lucy. I’m sorry if it’s such a trial for you.”

“It’s not a trial! Please, Ethan. I’m doing this because I want to. But it’s hard. And it’s hard for your parents. Tonight they saw their dead son’s wife with someone else. Even if it was their other son, Eth. Put yourself in their shoes.”

The muscle under his eye jumps. He looks at me, waiting for me to say something else. But since everything I’ve said tonight seems to be wrong, I just reach out and press my hand over his heart.

And after a few beats, he puts his own hand over mine. “I’d better go upstairs,” he says finally. “Make sure my dad’s blood pressure has come down.”

“Okay,” I whisper. “See you tomorrow.”

“More than likely,” he says. Then he lets go of my hand and walks out, leaving me feeling like I’ve let him down, when all I’ve done is told the truth.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

“SO YOU’RE LEFEKSZIK WITH ETHAN?”

This is my greeting the next morning when Iris and Rose come into the bakery. I don’t know why I’m surprised. Word does get around in this town.

“Hi, Iris. Hi, Rose.” I pause. “If by that tangled up word, you mean am I—” I pause “—dating Ethan, then the answer is yes. How did you know?”

“Saw your mother-in-law at the Starbucks,” Iris says, gesturing with her cup. My mother enters now, also clutching the trademark earth-friendly cup.

“Should everyone be going to Starbucks?” I ask, trying to keep the edge from my voice. “They’re our competition, remember?”

“Have you had the hot chocolate there?” Rose says. “I thought I died and went to heaven!”

“You’re all traitors,” I mutter. “If you’d let me set up a café, we could sell hot chocolate, too, and—”

“So how is it?” Iris wants to know. “Do you compare them constantly?”

“No, as a matter of fact, I—”

“I thought that was against the law,” Rose muses in her singsong voice. “Iris, you told me it was against the law.”

“So? How long has this been going on?” Iris demands, reapplying her Coral Glow with surgical precision.

“I’d rather not discuss it,” I say as the bell rings over the door. Thank God. Captain Bob. “Hi, Bob! What can I get for you?”

“Captain Bob, is it against the law to marry your brother-in-law?” Rose asks him.

“I—um…hello, there, ladies.” His bloodshot eyes find my mother. “Good morning, Daisy. You look lovely today.”

“Bob. Thank you.” My mother gives him an imperious look and goes into her office, closing the door behind her.

“Why do men love the women who abuse them?” I ask Captain Bob.

“Self-hatred,” he answers. “What’s this about the brother-in-law?”

“I’m dating Ethan.”

His bushy eyebrows raise in surprise. “Jimmy’s brother?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” He studies the tray of gooey danishes Rose is shoving into the display case. “Can I have a cherry danish? And how’s that going? With Ethan, I mean.”

“Uh…fine. Just fine,” I answer. The bakery fills with our paltry assortment of morning regulars.

“I always thought Ethan was so decent,” Rose comments as she counts out Mr. Maxwell’s hard roll allotment.

“He is decent, Rose. You know that,” I plead.

“He and Lucy,” my aunt explains to our customer. “She’s…er…dating…her dead husband’s brother.”

“Wouldn’t that be incest?” Mr. Maxwell says, frowning.

“It’s not incest!” I yelp. “He’s not my brother. He’s—”

“Lucy! Check the bread!” Iris calls.

I shove through the kitchen doors and yank open the oven. Jeepers! My internal timer has failed me for the first time ever, and the bread is nut brown, not golden. Dang it. Four dozen loaves, unsellable. Unbelievable. Jorge pats my shoulder as he comes in, shrugging out of his coat, and I sigh, then head for the proofer, hoping I have enough dough to make up for it.

Around ten, I prepare to go home for my nap. Iris and Rose are dying to interrogate me…little comments have been dropped all morning, and I could really use a little quiet time.