“Mom, we talked about more notice?—”
“I don’t know why you make it into such a big thing. You had time for Riley this morning.” Her mother finally seems to register that I exist, and her whole demeanor shifts. There’s something too bright about her smile, too loose around the edges. “And who’s this?”
“Jack Murphy,” I say, stepping forward. “Nice to meet you.”
Izzy’s shoulders drop. “Jack, this is my mom, Jessica. Mom, Jack.”
Jessica has black hair framing her face. That’s where the resemblance ends. Like Izzy, she has light eyes, but Jessica’s are a greenish-silver. Colder. Harder. Cigarette smoke clings to her black T-shirt.
“Jack Murphy.” She repeats it slowly. “The hockey player?Izzy.” She turns to her daughter with a look I can’t quite place. “You didn’t tell me.”
“There wasn’t anything to tell,” Izzy says tightly.
Luca chooses that moment to lunge sideways out of her arms with zero self-preservation. I dive and catch him, one hand under his arms, and he looks up at me with enormous brown eyes, startled into stillness.
“Hey, bud.” He grabs my Ray-Bans and rips them off my face, examines them for half a second, then chomps down on one arm. “Can I have those back, please?” I ask, keeping my voice low and playful like I do with Lily.
“You,” he holds them out, an offering.
Izzy exhales beside me. She’s watching us with an expression she’s not fast at hiding. It’s soft and startled, there and gone.
“Oh, he likes you,” Jessica says delightedly, like this is all going exactly to plan. “YOu should come for Thanksgiving. I mean it. We do a big thing.”
“Mom—”
“I’ll think about it,” I say, because Izzy looks like she’s about to combust.
Jessica beams. She squeezes Luca’s calf once and is back in the passenger seat before either of us can say anything else.
“Go.” Luca pats my cheek. Izzy stares at the space where the car was.
“You don’t have to come to Thanksgiving,” she says finally. “That’s ridiculous.”
Luca squirms, pushing against my chest. I set him down, gently holding onto his wrist, and follow as he wobbles to the front door of the shop. “You okay?”
Izzy pinches the bridge of her nose, her cheeks red. “She does that. Shows up and just—” She stops. Shakes her head. “Is this too complicated for you yet?”
“Izzy.” I wait until she meets my eyes. “Still here, aren’t I?”
She opens her mouth, then closes it. Luca wiggles free, plants both of his palms flat on the bubblegum-pink door, and shoves. It doesn’t budge, and he tries again.
“In, in, in.”
I crouch down beside him. “Let’s try together. Ready?” I spin the knob as he pushes, and the door swings open. Luca thinks he’s the master of the universe.
“I can stay for a bit,” I say. “If you need an extra set of hands.”
Luca giggles, stomping on the refracted rainbows dancing across the floor from the sun hitting the disco balls hanging in the window.
She stares at me for a long moment, crossing her arms. “Okay, let’s just recap. You pulled over and helped when my car broke down. You let my teenage sister drive your G-Wagon. And now you’re offering to babysit?” She tilts her head. “Who are you, and what have you done with the Boston Breakers’ bad boy?”
“He’s taking the night off.”
She laughs, half surprising herself.
“I have to leave by four-thirty,” I add. “I have dinner plans at five.”
The laugh dies. Her chin lifts, just slightly. “Oh.”
