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“They don’t play canasta,” Alec said automatically, then slid a narrow-eyed look at his sister. “You’re cruel, putting that in my head.”
“Card games?” she asked, innocently.
Lilly laughed and was still laughing when his mom opened the door, her smile bright enough to burn away the gloom of the fog-shrouded dusk. At a glance, she took in Lilly’s presence and her rumpled state, but she didn’t react besides ushering them in with enthusiasm.
“Do you kids want to join us for pizza here tonight?” she asked.
Jojo allowed it was a very real possibility, but Lilly had abandoned all pretense of interest in the humans and was on her knees by Buster, who seemed to have just woken up from a nap. The puppy snuggled into her arms and she nuzzled its soft fur, exclaiming in honeyed tones about his intelligence, handsomeness, and all-around superiority.
Alec’s mom and Jojo gravitated toward the nearby bar where an ice bucket and a bottle were waiting, leaving him alone near the woman who had entered his life and then handily upended it.
Shaking his head, he watched her fawn over the pet.
“Did you throw that sweet thing overboard?” his dad asked, strolling up, an eye on Lilly.
“Nothing like that,” Alec said. Since she hadn’t instantly squealed to his mother about the lost Buster story, he was holding out hope it wouldn’t get outside the Lilly-Alec-Jojo circle. No need to add to the family lore—or ignite his mother’s temper.
Lilly continued to croon to Buster, and dropped another kiss on his nose. Alec couldn’t help but smile.
“I’ve seen that look on your face before, son,” Vic Thatcher said.
“Yeah?” Alec replied absently. He hoped Lilly would also forgive his highhandedness of having her suitcases brought to his room.
He wanted to spend time with her. He needed to spend time with her.
Just an exploration.
“You were eight,” Vic said. “Do you remember the piano teacher?”
“For God’s sake.” Alec rounded on his dad and stared him down. “Will these stories never die?”
Vic chuckled. “Hell, son, I hope not.”
Forgetting is not an option. It’s what we have left, it’s what’s holding us back, it’s what’s keeping us together.
Shit. His smart sister.
“Jojo thinks I’ve spent the last five years trying not to feel anything,” he said, studying his dad’s face for his reaction.
Vic seemed to consider the idea. “I wouldn’t blame you for it. But it would be a damn shame if that turned out to be a permanent thing.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“I’d offer a suggestion—”
“Mom already has tried foisting her grief counselor on me.”
“—except I don’t think you need to worry on that ‘not feeling’ score any longer.” His father nodded at Lilly, now rolling around on the rug with an equally besotted Buster, the two of them as happy as pigs in mud.
“We’re just getting to know each other,” he said. Baby steps. “An exploration.”
“I think you’ve found your destination, son,” Vic said with a smile. “Go ahead and drop your French fry.”
Groaning, Alec shook his head at his dad, knowing this piece of Thatcher history as well as the back of his hand. He glanced down at Lilly. “I’m not—”
Heading for happily-ever-after he’d been about to say. But what a crock of shit. If he was going to start feeling again after five years, he sure as hell wasn’t going to start lying to himself about what those feelings happened to be.
He was in love with Lilly Durand.
In love. With Lilly Durand.
And something dark and ugly inside him uncurled. It broke free of dirty tethers of coarse rope which disintegrated as the foreign mass liberated itself, then began to burn, a scalding cleanse of heat, until only fine ashes were left that disappeared on his next exhale.
God. God.
They’d scattered Simon’s ashes into the ocean five years before, but until now, Alec had never felt free.
Free to love.
“Lilly.” Her name came out as a croak and she looked up.
He held out his hand. “We need to go.”
She obeyed him as if in a dream, or maybe it was he who was in a somnolent state, because he couldn’t recall saying goodbye to his parents and Jojo, only that he was out in the fog again, Lilly’s hand warm in his. Once in his room, she stared at her baggage, neatly arranged on one side of the foyer.
