“Butwhendid you see him?”
Dad shook his head. “Oh, just leave her alone.”
Thanks, Dad.I nodded my relievedthanks in his direction before returning to my vigorous polishing. At thisrate, I was going to need a new slicer by the end of the night.
Mom shooed him away with a wave of her hand. “But have youseen himto-day?”
I was honestly surprised Connie hadn’t hurried over totheir place to fill them in on the details of our impending matrimony. Or thatthe whole town hadn’t already gotten together spreadsheets and a Pinterestboard of wedding ideas for River Canyon’s childhood sweethearts.
Throwing my head backward, I sighed loudly. “Yes,Mom. I saw him today. I’ve seen him every single day for the past two years ofmy life, because he’s incapable of leaving me the hell alone—”
“Oh, good!”
“—and just so you’re not surprised, I’m seeing him tonight,okay? Now, just drop it.”
Her hand clapped over her mouth, just the way I thought itwould, and, dammit, her eyes teared up.
“Oh God,” she said, her words restricted by her emotions.“I can’t wait to tell Collin and Helen.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’m sure their sweet little Paddy hasalready clued them in on his victory.”
I instantly felt a touch of shame at the bitter commentaimed at his parents. They had never done anything but treat me like thedaughter they never had, and I mentally took it back.
“He’s divorced, you know,” she threw in.
“I wouldn’t have agreed to going out with him if he wasn’t,Mom.”
My rag stopped moving. I realized too late what I had justsaid, that I expected something to happen between us, and I stood there,watching my reflection in the blade. Watching for the reaction. Watching forthe flicker of hope that things could be better, different maybe.
“It’s okay to admit you still have feelings for him, honey.There’s still hope for you two.”
“Oh Christ, Mary …” Dad groaned. “Just leave her alone.It’s her life. Let her decide what to do with it.”
My reflection pouted, my lower lip trembled.
God, what a nice thought; the magical art of choice. But wenever had one, did we? From the very beginning, I doubted Patrick and I everstood a chance.
?
We met when we were three.
My parents owned an old Colonial on the cornerof Birch and Elm in River Canyon’s historic district. I was born in the town,two years after my sister Kate. We had a dog, a yellow Labrador named Molly,and a hefty black cat who we called Shadow. Shadow was a tramp, though, andoften spent time next door, where he answered to the name Murdoch.
Later, when I was old enough to understand thatShadow wasn’treally Shadow, nor was he Murdoch, Idecided to just call him Mister. Being a boy was the one thing he couldn’tchange, and Mister was the only name that suited him.
Anyway, when I was three, our neighbors movedaway—not the ones that called our Shadow their Murdoch—and in came the KinneyFamily. A charismatic dad, a charming housewife, and three boys all under theage of four; Patrick and his twin baby brothers Ryan and Sean.
They hailed from a little town calledBalbriggan on the coast of Ireland. I always found it funny that they hadtraded one coastal town for another when they moved across the pond to RiverCanyon, Connecticut. Why not try something new? You know, live a little?
But Mrs. Kinney’s family had already movedStateside to Mystic, CT, and she longed to be closer to them. So, Mr. Kinneyhad gotten a job in the city, doing something with numbers I never quite triedto understand, and moved his family over.
Just like that.
The day they moved in, my parents each grippeda little shoulder and steered us across our front lawn onto theirs. My father,being the real charmer that he was, extended a sturdy hand toward the verytall, very fair Mr. Kinney, and uttered a groan-inducing, “Top o’ themornin’ toya.”
The beautiful, blonde Mrs. Kinney smiled downat my sister and me, kneeling swiftly with the two bundles of joy swaddled inher arms.
“What beautiful girlsy’have,”she cooed in an airy voice that I immediately became infatuated with.
