“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, Lucas. You know how many times I’ve seen men sling those smarmy lines? A trillion and six, okay?”

“Colleen, don’t make this into something it’s not. Look. We’re together now, you and I. Aren’t we?”

“I’m not the one with the pregnant woman in my apartment, Lucas!”

An older couple was walking their dog and gave him a sharp look. “Everything okay there, Collie?” the man asked.

“Not really, Bob, but thank you!” she called. “Hi, Sue. Hi, Muffin.”

Lucas waited until the couple was inside. “Yes, Ellen is in my apartment. Should I ask her to sleep in the alley?”

“You—I—it’s—you know what? Bite me. Go to your ex-wife who’s perfect in every way and not messy or emotional or just a stupid bartender.”

“You’re not a stupid bartender. Colleen. Settle down.”

“You know why I think you’re with me, Lucas? Because I’m here. You’re here for your uncle, you’re sad, and hey, what’s this, it’s that girl you used to be with, and lookee here! She’s still single! And easy, apparently, because it only took you what? Three weeks to get into my pants?”

“Four plus.”

“Four plus. Wow. I’m a regular chastity belt. All I am is convenient, Lucas. Your wife divorced you and found someone else, and only now are you interested in me. And you’re not even here for me. And I knew that. I’m an idiot.”

“Colleen, this is ridiculous.” Poor choice of words, perhaps, because she answered with her middle finger, then turned and stomped away.

“You’re not convenient,” he called at her retreating back. “You’re extremely inconvenient, Colleen!” Nothing. “I’ll call you tomorrow when you’ve had time to calm down.”

And again, not the smartest thing to say. This time her gesture was more creative.

With a sigh, Lucas scrubbed a hand through his hair. This had been a pretty fantastic night until fifteen minutes ago.

Well. Ellen was indeed back at his apartment, and she was an attorney, and his dying uncle needed an attorney, and Colleen could just...just...

She couldn’t really believe she was convenient.

He ran the two blocks to her apartment. There was a light in her window, though the first floor was dark. Hopefully, her brother wasn’t about to come out and beat him up.

“Colleen!” he yelled up at her window.

No answer, though the giant dog’s head appeared in the window.

“Colleen!”

“Quiet, or I’ll call the police!” she barked. “This is a nice neighborhood.” She yanked up the screen and stuck her head out, then glanced next door. “Sorry, Mr. Wong. My idiot boyfriend. Do you have a gun? Just to scare him or maim him slightly.”

“Sorry, Colleen,” the neighbor called. “I’m antigun.”

“That’s a pity. Sorry for the noise.” She turned back to Lucas. “What?”

“Don’t be mad at me, you inconvenient woman.”

“I am mad. Leave me alone.”

“Can I call you?”

“No. I’m about to start power-eating Ben & Jerry’s. Leave me alone.”

“What kind?”

The question brought a smile to her lips, which she quickly smothered. “Peanut Butter Cup.”

“I like Coffee Heath Bar myself.”

“So go get some and choke on it.”

He grinned. “Sleep tight, mía.”

“You’re not off the hook just because you’re pulling a Romeo, Spaniard. You’re about to break my heart again. I can feel it.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Go away.” She pulled her head in and lowered the screen. “Call me tomorrow.”

* * *

BACK AT HIS apartment, Ellen had made herself some scrambled eggs. “Eating for two. I plan to milk that every second of this pregnancy, by the way.” She took a bite and smiled. “Sorry about ruining your night. Is she okay?”

“She’s fine,” he lied.

“Still so beautiful.”

He didn’t want to talk about Colleen with Ellen.

They had discussed Colleen once before, because to not talk about her, ever, would’ve made it seem like more. Which it was, but what was he supposed to do? He’d wanted their marriage to work, figured he’d burned bridges with Colleen forever and wasn’t going to moon after his high school sweetheart when Ellen had been nothing but open and decent and nice. So he told his wife about Colleen, and said that it was a typical young love situation, very intense until it burned itself out.

He lied, in other words.

“Tell me about Joe,” she said, taking out her razor-thin laptop. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s still getting dialysis,” Lucas said. “He...he maybe has a few weeks.”

She gave him a small smile. “Okay,” she said. “Here’s what I’ve got on the divorce issue.” She paused. “My dad misses you, by the way.”

Lucas gave a nod. “The Cambria’s almost done,” he said. “I talked to the interior designers yesterday.”

She gave him a tolerant look. “That’s not what I’m talking about at all. He loves you like a son, and nothing will change that. Not even Steve.”

“No, I guess not.”

“Well,” she said with a smile. “You’ll be back in Chicago soon.”

For some reason, the words sounded vaguely...smug.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

SINCE LUCAS WAS busy with his ex-wife, and Uncle Joe, and Bryce, and the public safety building, and making sure his hair was beautiful and wavy and arrogant and whatever else occupied his time, Colleen did what she always did when she was stressed. She cleaned.

“Oh, shit,” Connor said when he saw her scrubbing the bar with her beloved citrus-scented Clorox Clean-Up. “What did he do? Should I kill him?”

“It’s tempting,” Colleen said. “How’s the lovely Jessica? You sure you two aren’t dating?”

Connor leaned on the part of the bar she’d already cleaned. “So you don’t want to talk about Lucas and how I told you this wouldn’t end well, and how—”

“Hey, placenta hog. Just because you were born three minutes sooner doesn’t mean you know everything.”

“Are you sure? Because I do. Where you’re concerned, anyway.”

“Hi, guys.” Savannah came into the bar dressed in an ill-fitting, too-short skirt and lacy top, Gail’s credit card at work, no doubt. Her eyes were swollen and pink. “Mom said I should stay here because she’s at the lawyer’s.” With that, their little sister burst into sobs.

When both Connor and Colleen had said soothing things and administered a slab of Rafe’s caramel cheesecake, Colleen took Savannah back to her place. Rufus would make her feel better, or die trying.

But Colleen remembered what it had felt like to have her family life crumble, and hell, she’d been a lot older than Savannah. Everything would change for her sister—holidays, weekends, home life, maybe even home. Where was Gail even from? Colleen didn’t think it was New York.

She painted her sister’s nails (Zombie Skin Gray) and let Savannah do her toenails (Flirtini Fuschia). They watched an episode of SpongeBob, and Savannah fell asleep on the couch, Rufus keeping guard.

Poor kid; she was exhausted from crying. Colleen stroked her sister’s wispy hair, kissed Rufus on the head and went to the kitchen. She’d make peanut butter cookies, Savannah’s favorite.

Being in the kitchen made her recall her cooking fiasco last week. Lucas had cleaned up the entire kitchen while she was sleeping. Forget the roses he’d brought—that was romantic.

She wondered what he was doing now.

When the first batch was done, a knock came on the door. It was her stepmother.

“Hi,” Colleen said.

“Hi.” Gail didn’t look so hot. She was dressed in the usual jeans, cut so low you could practically see her cesarean scar, and a cropped, silky shirt. She wore the requisite heels, but there were circles under her eyes. “Connor said she was here.”

“Yeah. She’s sleeping on the couch. Worn out from crying, I imagine.”

“Is that an accusation, Colleen? Because I’ll have you know, I don’t want this divorce.”

“It’s not. Come on in. Want a cookie? They’re still warm.”

Gail gave her a suspicious look, but sat at the table, and Colleen put five cookies on a plate and poured her a glass of milk. “Thanks,” Gail muttered.

Colleen took a breath. “Listen, I’m sorry for Savannah’s sake that this is happening.”

“But not for my sake, of course.”

Colleen raised an eyebrow. “No. Not for your sake. Keep in mind that you’re the home-wrecking whore who broke my mother’s heart ten years ago.”

“Sorry I left my scarlet letter at home.”

Well. That was surprising—a literary reference from the Tail.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Gail said. “I can read, you know.” She paused, taking a cookie from the plate and breaking it in half. “I think he’s seeing someone else.”

And of course, Dad was seeing someone else, namely Mom. Though Colleen saw doom painted all over that one, there was certainly some poetic justice at work.

Gail put half of a cookie in her mouth and chewed. “I know you hate me, Colleen,” she said. “I know I was the other woman. But I love your father. I was very naive ten years ago.”

“Really? Because I think you came out of the womb with a calculator in one hand and a pair of Manolo Blahniks in the other.”

Gail sighed and ate the other half. “Fine. If you want to think of it that way, go ahead. But it hasn’t all been fun, you know. You think I’d choose a guy with two grown kids? You think I wanted to be a slut?”

“Who put the gun to your head, Gail?”

“He didn’t tell me he was married. Not for a long time.”

Shit. That did sound like her father, didn’t it?

“And by then, the damage was done. I was in love with him. He said he was in the process of getting a divorce, and I believed him. And then I got pregnant. I know you don’t think so, but I love Savvi. She’s everything to me.” Much to Colleen’s surprise, Gail’s eyes filled with tears.

“Then why are you trying to make her into a Barbie doll?” Colleen whispered. “The diets, Gail! The cheerleading and the horrible clothes.”

“I want her to be...” Gail’s voice trailed off.

“Pretty?” Colleen said.

“She is pretty! It’s not that. I want her to...belong. To be popular and happy and fit in. She’s overweight, Colleen, and you and Connor stuffing her full of nachos and pie and cheeseburgers doesn’t help. It just makes me the bad guy. Do you know the statistics on childhood obesity?”

Colleen felt a stab of guilt. “She’s not obese, Gail. She’s chubby.”

“Ten more pounds and she’s medically obese, according to her doctor,” Gail whispered vehemently. “You like to think of me as the evil stepmother, and you do it very well, but the truth is, I’m trying to keep my daughter healthy. I broil her fish and make her salads and take her for hikes and walks. We don’t all have your metabolism.”

“But you can’t make her into your image, Gail. She’s her own person.”

“I know that! I’ve taken her to gymnastics and tap and karate, and the only thing she likes is baseball, which isn’t exactly an aerobic sport. Cheerleading would get her moving, at least.” She grabbed another cookie. “And now she’s stress-eating. And so am I. These are fantastic.” Gail gave a muffled sob, spewing crumbs, and tears spilled over.

Colleen handed Gail a napkin and took out the next batch of cookies, moving slowly. Okay, yeah. Savannah was overweight, and maybe a little more than just chubby. And Colleen did like to spoil her with the food she never got at home (and so did Connor). Taking her for a swim now and again might be a better way to spend time with their sister, instead of just movies and popcorn and Milk Duds (though if you couldn’t have Milk Duds once in a while, what was the point of living?).

Still, she wasn’t used to being wrong. It was an itchy feeling.

“What can I do to help, Gail?” she asked as Gail polished off the last cookie.

Gail didn’t look at her, only folded up her napkin into a tiny square. “Maybe you could just...put in a good word about me once in a while. With Savannah. I don’t want her to feel like there are battle lines, the O’Rourkes on one side, and me on the other.”

Shit. That was exactly how it had always been, after all. Not that Gail had helped the cause, but still. Connor and Colleen had never befriended the Tail and never wanted to.

Maybe Gail had always clung to Dad not just to prove she was the hottest thing on earth, but because she didn’t have anyone else. And Colleen Margaret Mary O’Rourke, famed for being friends with every living creature in Manningsport, had never once offered friendship.

Colleen cleared her throat. “You bet. You know how much I love Savannah. I’ll make sure she doesn’t feel caught in the middle.” She paused. “And I’ll make sure we throw some vegetables her way, too.”

“Thanks.” Gail wiped her eyes and looked down at the table.

“But let her stay in baseball. She’s so good, Gail. She’s scholarship good. Drop the cheerleading—I’ll take her to kickboxing with me. Maybe Tom Barlow will let her join his boxing club, even though it’s for high school kids. I’ll talk to him.”