Author: Kristan Higgins

“He must outweigh you by forty pounds,” he commented. “How’d you train him?”

“I don’t know. The usual way, I guess.”

Maybe Nicole would like a dog. “Where’d you get him?”

“The pound. See you around, Liam.” With that, Cordelia got into the truck and floored it, tires screeching a little, as if she couldn’t wait to be away from him.

Not his usual effect at all. But fifteen minutes later, when Nicole had snatched the chocolate from him and kissed his cheek, telling him he was the best, Liam couldn’t help feeling grateful to that scratchy little Cordelia Osterhagen.

CHAPTER NINE

“OH!” KATE GRUNTED as she sat down behind her desk. “My side is killing me. I’m ovulating, I think. That sucker must be huge.”

“Must we discuss?” Jon asked.

“Man up, weenie boy,” Kate said.

“You man up, Venus Williams,” Jon replied. “I’m a g*y home-ec teacher. I never have to man up. I never will man up. As God is my witness, I’ll never man up again.”

Posey had finished a quote on taking down a barn in Chelmsford and dropped by the school to pick up Brianna for their afternoon together. Knowing both Kate and Jon had a late lunch, she’d crashed and was now happily eating half of Jon’s chicken salad sandwich (with grapes and walnuts on a croissant, plus oatmeal cookies for dessert). They ate in Kate’s office, just off the locker rooms, despite Jon’s complaints of the faint smell of sweat.

Kate leaned back in her chair, her head touching the poster of Mia Hamm’s moment of sports-bra glory. “So, James and I are thinking of taking a trip to Sedona this summer. Pilates, spa, deep meditation, the whole thing.”

“What every teenage boy dreams of,” Jon said. “Why not Outward Bound or a summer at sea?”

“What do you know about Outward Bound? Weren’t we just discussing what a sissy you were, Jon?” The bell rang. “Oops, time to go,” Kate said. She lurched upright in her chair. “Walk with me, you two. I have bus duty. Oh, and hey, Posey, we’re short on prom chaperones this year. You in?”

“No,” Posey said. “Though I loved the way you slipped that in. Nice work.”

“You should come!” Jon declared. “We can go together, because you know your brother would rather chew off his own arm, then reattach it.”

“At last, Henry and I have something in common,” Posey said. “No thanks, guys.”

“Oh, come on. It’ll be fun,” Kate said.

“Gee, I wish I could, but I’ll be busy hacking my wrists that night.”

“It’s not that bad,” Kate said, locking her office door behind them.

“It’s so much fun!” Jon said. “I’m the most popular boy there. If I were eligible for prom king, I’d win every year.”

As if on cue, a pretty girl bounced over to them. “Mr. White, I totally wish you were straight. I have such a crush on you.”

“Take a number, sweetheart,” Jon said kindly. “Did you plan out your quilt design yet? It’s due on Tuesday.”

“Well, I need chaperones,” Kate continued. “So far I only have Jack Whalen signed up, and only because I’m blackmailing him.”

“What did he do?” Posey asked.

“He subscribes to Cat Fancy magazine,” Kate answered. “Imagine trying to be an authority figure when your students know you read Cat Fancy.”

“I read Cat Fancy,” Jon said.

“Of course you do.” Kate pushed open the door into the main wing of the school. The hallway was packed, lockers slamming, kids making out, insulting each other, giggling shrilly to show how fun and popular they were, or slinking along the wall, trying to be invisible.

Posey glanced down the hall, her eyes stopping on what looked like a golden couple—the girl was pretty and blonde, her face pink with pleasure as she smiled up at a good-looking boy, who was leaning against her locker. Had to be Nicole Murphy. She was the image of her mom.

A lump came to Posey’s throat. It was so strange to think of Emma Tate, that lovely, generous girl, as an adult, a mother, a wife. To picture her sick and weak…dying…when the last time Posey had seen her, she’d been perfect. In perfect health, perfect happiness, a perfect future spreading out in front of her. All that, gone, and her little girl left alone.

“That’s Nicole Murphy,” Kate confirmed. “Let me introduce you. It’ll be nice for her to meet someone who knew her mom.” Kate towed Posey over, leaving Jon behind to field another admirer. “Ms. Murphy! Hey, Mr. Talcott, how you doing?” Kate’s gym-teacher voice could be heard quite clearly. “Nicole, this is Posey Osterhagen. She was a friend of your mom’s.”

“Oh, hi,” the girl said, her smile slipping a little.

“Hi,” Posey answered, swallowing against the lump. “We weren’t really friends… Well, we sort of were. She was two years ahead of me. She was…she was really nice.”

“Thanks,” Nicole said, her voice quiet. “I have some of her teachers, and everyone always says that.”

“You look a lot like her,” Posey added. “She was beautiful.”

The girl smiled.

“Mr. Harris! Do you mind?” Kate bellowed. “Excuse me, kids. Gotta run. See you later, Posey.” Kate went off to quell whatever trouble was brewing.

The boy was staring at Nicole, eyes glassy with adoration. The girl gave Posey an awkward smile. Her exit cue. “Well, nice meeting you,” Posey said, then turned to leave and bounced right off a man’s chest. Liam Murphy’s chest, to be specific.

Oh, Elvis. He smelled so good…soap and that sharp smell of a garage, oil and metal, and beneath that, the smell of cloves, that pumpkin-pie smell. His hair was rumpled, and either he hadn’t shaved this morning or he was one of those guys who could grow a beard in a few hours. Lust tightened her insides, and the smarter part of her brain clucked in warning. She took a step away and shoved her hands into her jeans pockets.

“Nic, I’ve been waiting for ten minutes,” Liam rumbled.

“Sorry, Dad. Ms. Ellington introduced me to an old friend of Mommy’s.”

Mommy. Poor thing.

Liam seemed to notice Posey for the first time. “Oh. Hey.” Prince Charming this guy was not. “Hi.”

He turned his attention back to the kids. “Who are you?” he demanded, looking rather fierce.

“Daddy, this is Tanner Talcott.” Nicole moved a little closer to the boy, who stuck out his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Murphy. Nicole’s told me a lot about you.”

Liam stared at the hand for a long, withering moment, then looked back at the boy. “Let’s get this straight, pal,” he said in a dangerous voice. “I know what you’re like. I know what you’re thinking. I know you, kid. I was you. I know what you have in your pants, and it’s gonna stay there.”

“Dad, chill!” Nicole’s face was fiery red. “OMG, Tanner, see? I told you.”

Liam ignored his daughter. “You can hold her hand. Maybe, after a year or so, a kiss on the cheek. Are we clear?”

Wow. This was more fun than Posey had expected. She bit her lip to keep from smiling.

The two teenagers stared at Liam, then looked at each other. “See?” Nicole said. “Psychotic.”

“That’s right, honey,” Liam said, putting his arm around her. “She’s my only child, Tanner Talcott. My princess. My angel. Got it?”

“Totally, Mr. Murphy. So, Nicole, you wanna go to the movies sometime?”

“I’d love to. Text me.”

“No, don’t text her. Call me and ask my permission first. But I’ll save you some time. The answer is no.”

“Text me,” Nicole repeated in a grittier tone.

“Nice meeting you both,” Tanner said, nodding at Posey. At least someone was aware that she was still standing there. He hefted his backpack onto his shoulder, grinned at Nicole, then shambled down the hall.

“What a nice boy,” Posey said. Nicole beamed.

“Shut it, Cordelia,” Liam said.

“Really cute, too,” Posey added. “So, Liam, remember that thing you asked about?”

“No.” His eyes were stony.

“In the supermarket? Last week?”

“Oh. Right.”

“Are you guys gonna be around? I can bring it by later today.”

“What is it?” Nicole asked, looking up at her father.

His face softened. Then he glanced at Posey—of course, he didn’t know what it was. “It’s…it’s something for your room,” he said awkwardly.

“Really? Cool! Can you bring it over, Posey?”

“That would be Ms. Osterhagen to you,” Liam grumbled.

“You can call me Posey. Does five o’clock work? I have something to do first.”

“Cool. Do you know where we live?” Nicole asked.

Yes, I was sleeping it off in your guest room not that long ago, intoxicated and buck naked. Posey glanced at Liam, hoping she wasn’t blushing. “Yup. See you later.” With that, she went off to find Brianna.

LIAM’S AFTERNOON was not going well.

First of all, Rick Balin had come by his shop. Again. He said he wanted a custom bike, but it seemed to Liam that he really wanted to relive his high-school years, one of those sad types who’d peaked at seventeen. Liam himself barely remembered high school outside of Emma. He suspected Rick had a drinking problem, as well as a heart attack lurking in the near future. Instead of making a decision on the three designs Liam had drawn up, Rick had spent an hour and a half reminiscing about the good old days, telling stories about people Liam barely remembered…Jessica something, Mitch something else. By the time he left, Liam had a pounding headache.

Then the Tates had called. Fourth time in two days, checking to see if Nicole was free for Easter break, because they’d like to take her to Paris. Paris! As if he’d let his only child fly across the Atlantic without him. The Tates had also asked if Nicole could stay overnight on Wednesday, which sounded harmless enough. But Liam knew from experience that if you gave the Tates an inch, they’d take not just a mile, but the Eastern Seaboard, too. This Wednesday would become every Wednesday. Louise would say, “But I thought you didn’t mind—it’s our tradition, after all.” And Louise could make a tradition in about thirty seconds, oh yeah. The Tates had come out for Christmas the year Nicole had been born, and it was tolerable enough. Liam just hadn’t realized it meant they’d be there for every holiday—Thanksgiving, Easter, Memorial Day, the Fourth of July, Labor Day, Halloween, Rosh Hashanah (no, they weren’t Jewish, but why pass up a chance, right?).

Liam had wanted Nicole to be closer to her grandparents. But he hadn’t realized that closer would never be close enough. His explanation that Wednesday wasn’t going to work had been met with an injured silence, a goodbye that was just tremulous enough to let Liam know that Louise was deeply wounded. And no one could do wounded like Louise.

And then there was That Boy. Tanner. Just thinking the name set Liam’s teeth on edge. That Boy had touched Nicole’s shoulder. Not cool. Not cool at all. They’d argued about it all the way home.

“Dad, you can’t just lock me in a convent!” Nicole had whined.

“Watch me,” he said.

“I’m almost sixteen! I should get to have a boyfriend!”

“Says who?”

“Dad!” There it was, that three-syllable screech. “I’m like a freak or something!”

“So what? At least you’re not pregnant.”

“You’re, like, ridiculous.” She stared out the window. “I am going to the movies, you know. You can’t lock me up.”