Praiseforthenovelsof

KRISTANHIGGINS

CatchoftheDay

“Smart,freshandfun!AKristanHigginsbookisnottobemissed!”

—NewYorkTimesbestsellingauthorCarlyPhillips

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engagingnarrativeandtheamusing,oftenself-deprecatingobservationsoftheheroine.It’sanovel

withdepthandagreatdealofheart.”

—RomanticTimesBOOKreviews,4½starsTopPick

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FoolsRushIn

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TooGoodToBeTrue

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KRISTANHIGGINS

JustOneoftheGuys

ToTerenceKeenan—

Husband.Father.Firefighter.

Inthatorder.

CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

CHAPTERONE

CHAPTERTWO

CHAPTERTHREE

CHAPTERFOUR

CHAPTERFIVE

CHAPTERSIX

CHAPTERSEVEN

CHAPTEREIGHT

CHAPTERNINE

CHAPTERTEN

CHAPTERELEVEN

CHAPTERTWELVE

CHAPTERTHIRTEEN

CHAPTERFOURTEEN

CHAPTERFIFTEEN

CHAPTERSIXTEEN

CHAPTERSEVENTEEN

CHAPTEREIGHTEEN

CHAPTERNINETEEN

CHAPTERTWENTY

CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE

CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO

CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE

CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX

CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE

CHAPTERTHIRTY

CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE

CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO

CHAPTERTHIRTY-THREE

CHAPTERTHIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTERTHIRTY-FIVE

CHAPTERTHIRTY-SIX

CHAPTERTHIRTY-SEVEN

EPILOGUE

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Asever,IamgratefultoMariaCarvainis,

mykindandbrilliantagent;

ToTracyFarrellandKeyrenGerlachfortheirenthusiasmandsupportofthisbook;

TofellowwriterRoseMorris,mydearfriend

andperfectreader;

andtoBethEmery,headcoachofwomen’screwatWesleyanUniversity,whopatientlyansweredmy

questionsaboutrowing.

Andmostespecially,thankstoTerenceKeenan,mydearhusband,whoadvised,laughedandcooked

whileIwrotethisbook,andtomytwowonderfulkids.Youthreearethelovesofmylife.

JustOneoftheGuys

CHAPTERONE

“I

THINKWESHOULDSTOPSEEING

eachother.”

Myjawdrops.Iinhalesharply,andthestuffedmushroomIjustpoppedinmymouthissuckedright
intomyesophagus.Jasoncontinues,unawareofmydistress.“It’srunitscourse,don’tyouthink?I
mean,it’snotlikewe’ve…”

Seemslikemylittleoldairpassageiscompletelyplugged.Myeyesaretearing,mychestconvulses
—Beforeyoubreakupwithme,Jason,wouldyoumindalittleHeimlich?Islammyhanddownonthe
table,rattlingthechinaandcutlery,butJasonassumesthatmydistressisheartbreakandnotoxygen
deprivation.Helooksaway.

I’mbeingkilledbymyappetizer.IknewIshouldn’thaveorderedit,butEmomakesthelittlenumber
drenchedinbutter,withlittlebitsofgarlicandparsleyand…um…Mustbreathenow.Savefoodreview
forlater.Thepressureinmyneckisbuilding.Imakeafist,wedgeitjustbelowmysternum,andslam
myselfintothetable.Themushroomshootsout,hitsawaterglassandcomestoarestonthewhite
tablecloth.Isuckinanenormousbreath,thenbegincoughing.

Jasoneyesthemushroomwithdistaste,andwithoutthinking,Igrabit,stuffitinanapkinandtake
anotherbeautifulgulpofair.Breathing.It’ssounderrated.

“Iwaschoking,youidiot,”Imanagetowheeze.

“Oh.Sorryaboutthat.Well,goodthingyou’reokay.”

It’shardformetobelievethatIwasevendatingJasontobeginwith,letalonethefactthathe’s
dumpingme.Dumpingme!Ishouldbedumpinghim!

Iglanceatthewadded-upnapkincontainingtheinstrumentofmyneardeath.Thepoorbusboywho
hastodealwiththat.ShouldIwarnhim?Otherwise,he’llshakeitout,innocent,unaware,andthe
unchewedmushroomwillflyacrossthekitchen,slidingonthefloor,maybegettingsquashedundera
shoe….

Focus,Chastity,focus.You’rebeingdumped.Atleastfindoutwhy.“So,Jason,that’sfine.Imean,
clearlyitwasn’tloveatfirstsight.Butotherthanthat,doyoumindtellingme…well,why?”

Jason,whomIhavebeenseeingforaboutthreeweeks,takesanimpervioussipofwineandstares
overmyhead.“Dowehavetodissectthis,Chastity?”

“Well,um…thinkofitasmydesiretogaininformation.Iamajournalist,remember.”Itryafriendly
smile,butI’mnotfeelingsochummyrightnow.Orever,nowthatIthinkofit.Atleast,nottoward
Jason.

“Doyoureallywanttoknow?”

“Yes,actually,Ido.”Ipause,feelingaflushprickleitswayupmychest.Ourbriefrelationshiphas
beentepidatbest,butIthoughtthemalaisewasemanatingfromme.Morethananything,thisisa

matterofwoundedpride.JasonandIhavebeenonfourdatesnow.HelivesinAlbany,andit’sabitof
ahassletomakethedrive,andsometimesneitherofusisfeelingthatinspired.Still,Ididn’tseethis
coming.

Jason’stongueissearchingforsomethingnearabackmolar.Hismouthcontortsashischeekbulges.
Ifindmyselfhopinghe’llchoke,too.Seemsonlyfair.Hiseyesstilldon’tbothertomeetmine.
“Fine,”heacquiesces,leavingwhatevermorsellurksatthebackofhismouthforlaterenjoyment.
“Youwanttohearthereason?Ijustdon’tfindyouattractiveenough.Sorry.”

Mymouthdropsopenyetagain.“Notattractive!Notattract—I’mveryattractive!”

Jasonrollshiseyes.“Sure.Ahandsomewoman.Whatever.Andwithshoulderslikethose,youcould
findworkdownonthedocks.”

“Irow!”Iprotest.“I’mstrong!That’ssupposedtobesexy.”

“Yes,well,provingthatyoucouldpickmeupdidn’texactlysetmylibidoonfire.”

“Wewerehorsingaround!”Icry.Itwas,infact,theonelightheartedmomentinourcourtship…we’d
beenhiking,hecomplainedthathewastired,Itookover.Endofstory.

“Yougavemeapiggybackrideforamileandahalf,Chastity.That’ssomethingaSherpashoulddo,
notagirlfriend.”

“Itwasn’tmyfaultthatyoucouldn’tmanageameaslytwelve-miletrail!”

“Andanotherthing.Youyell.”

“Idonotyell!”Iyell,thencatchmyself.“Ihavefourbrothers,”Isayprimlyandmuchmorequietly.
“It’snotalwayseasytomakeoneselfheard.”

“Look.Isthereanypointinthis?”Jasonasks.“I’msorry.Ijustdon’tfindyouthatattractive,Chastity.”

“Fine.Forthatmatter,Ithinkyouneedtobathemoreoften,Jason.ThiswholeSeattle-grunge-
patchoulithingisso1990s.”It’snotabadcomeback,butmyfaceisburningnonetheless.

“Whatever.Here.”Takingouthiswallet,heputsafewbillsonthetable.“Thisshouldcovermyhalf.
Takecareofyourself.”Heslidesoutofthebooth.

“Jason?”Isay.

“What?”

“Youthrowlikeagirl.”

Herollshiseyesandwalksout.

Idon’tcare,doI?It’snotlikehewasTheOne.Hewasjustanexperiment,justatoe-dipintothe
datingpoolofupstateNewYork.Thegoodthingis,Idon’thavetolookathisfreckled,hairlesslegs

anymore.AtleastIwon’thavetowatchhimcuthisfoodintotiny,tinybitesthathechewsrelentlessly
untiltheyaremerelyflavoredsaliva.Won’thavetohearthatfunnynosewhistlehehasallthetime
andiscompletelyunawareof.Hewasonlyfivefoottentoboot,almosttwoinchesshorterthanmy
superfoxself.

Superfox.Right.Ishovemymushroomsaway—who’shungrynow?—anddrainmywineglass.Not
attractive.Jerk.Howdarehesaythat?It’snotlikehewasGeorgebleepingClooney,either!Justa
skinny,pale,mop-haireddweebwhohappenedtoaskmeout.Heinitiatedcontact!Ididn’tthrow
myselfathim.Ididn’tkidnaphim.Therewerenobagsoverheads,nohandcuffs,nolongridesinthe
trunkofmycar.Ididnothavetodigapitinmybasementandchainhimthere.WhyamIsuddenly
notattractive?

Thismeansnothing,Itellmyself.Jasonmeantnothing.It’sjustthathewasthefirstguyI’ddatedsince
movingbacktomyhometown.And,nowthatIthinkofit,thefirstguyI’vedatedin…um…crap.A
longtime.SoJasonwas,well,thefrogIwaskissing.Iwanttosettledown,sure.MaybeI’mfeelinga
littleundertheguntogetmarriedandspawnthefourbabiesIalwayswanted.

I’malmostthirty-oneyearsold,andthesearetheuglyyearsforwomenlikeme.Whathappenedtoall
thoseguysinmymid-twenties?Ingradschool?Atthepaper?Theremustbesomelinethatwe
womencross.College,gradschool,juststartingoutinajob…we’reablastthen.Afewyearsof
careerunderourbelt…watchout,boys!She’sawantin’aring!

Iglancefurtivelyaroundtherestaurant,hopingforadistraction.Emo’sispackedtonight—families,
couplesofallages,friends.Mynewlydumpedstatusseemsbroadcastthroughouttherestaurant.It’s
betterthanbeingwithJason,actually,butstill.I’mtheonlypersonherealone.Emo’s—aplaceso
oftenvisitedbymyfamilythatwehaveaboothnamedafterus—ishalfbar,halfrestaurant,separated
bydoubleFrenchdoors.Thebar,Icansee,ispacked.MybelovedYankeesareplayingathome.
They’vewontheirfirstfivegamesoftheseason.Why,Iwonder,didIagreetogooutwithJason
whenIcouldbewatchingDerekJeterinstead?

Withoutfurtherthought,Ileavethebooth,thesiteofmyhumiliationandnear-deathepisode,waveto
thewaitresstoalerthertothechangeofvenueandgointothebar.

“Hey,Chas!”Severalmen—Jake,Santo,Paul,George—chorusmyname,andmybatteredegois
mollifiedsomewhat.Havingfourolderbrothers,twoofwhomareEatonFallsfirefightersalongside
myfather,acaptain,ensuresthatIknowjustabouteverylocalmaleundertheageoffifty.
Unfortunately,thishasdonenothingformethusfarontheboyfriendfront,sincethereseemstobea
lawagainstdatingtheO’Neillgirl—me.

“Hello,there,Chastity,”saysStu,thebartender.

“Hi,Stu.Howabout…um…”

“BudLight?”hesuggests,myusualdrink.

“Nah.HowaboutaScorpionBowl?Okay?”

Stupauses.“Yousure?They’renotreallyjustforoneperson.”

“I’mwalkinghome.It’sfine.Ineedit,Stu.Oh,andsomenachos,too,please.Bettermakeitgrande.”

IfindanemptystoolandturnmyattentiontotheBronxBombers.ThemightyJetermakesa
trademarktwistingleap,snagstheball,thentagsouttherunnerwhowasfoolishenoughtoassumeit
wassafetoleavesecondbase.Doubleplay,thankyou,Derek.Atleastsomething’sgoingright
tonight.

Stuputsmydrinkinfrontofme,andItakealargegulp,thengrimace.StupidJason.IwishI’d
dumpedhimbeforehedumpedme.Iknewhewasn’ttheoneI’dendupwith,butIwashopingtolike
himmoreastimewenton.Hopingforsomehiddenqualitiestoseepoutfromhispallid,freckledskin
anderadicatethesneakingsuspicionthatIwasdatinghimbecauseIhadnoonebettertobewith.

Didn’thappen.AnothergulpfromtheScorpionBowlburnsdownmythroat.Don’tworryaboutthat
jerk,theScorpionBowlseemstosay.Hewasicky,anyway.Yes.True,ScorpionBowl.Buthedidbeat
metothebreakuppunch.Damn.

“Hereyougo,Chastity,”Stu—sixfeeteven—says,settingdownthenachomountaininfrontofme.
Cheeseoozesoffthesides,jalapeñosareglommedontopofacloudofsourcream,andsuddenly,
I’mstarving,themushroommishapforgotten.

“Thanks,Stu.”Ipulloffahunkofnachosandtakeabite.Heaven.Anotherswallowofhideousdrink.
Notsobadthistime,notwithanachochaser,andapleasantbuzzfuzzesmybrain.GoodoldScorpy.
Haven’thadonesinceanill-advisedcollegedrinkingparty,butI’mstartingtorememberwhythey
weresopopularbackthen.

Theinningisover,andacommercialcomeson.Takinganotherbiteandanotherslugofmydrink,I
glancebackoutattherestaurant.ThroughtheFrenchdoorsatthetablenearestthebarsitsagood-
lookingman.ThoughIcan’tquiteseehiscompanion,herhairiswhite,makingmethinkshe’shis
mother,possiblyhisboss.HereallyishandsomeinthatperfectandsomewhatsterileNewYorkTimes
Magazineway…prepschoolrich,fulllips,long,floppingMcDreamy-styleblondhair,bonestructure
ofthegods.Six-two.Eventhoughhe’ssitting,Icanestimatehisheighttowithincentimeters,barring
unanticipatedlegamputation,ofcourse.Six-two.Theperfectmaleheight.AsidefromJeter,and
ViggoMortensonasAragorninLordoftheRings,thisguyisbasicallymyidealman.

Watchinghim,myheartsinksalittlefurther.Amanlikethatisway,wayoutofmyleague.Notthat
I’mahideous,stooped,wart-riddenhag,butI’m…well.PerhapsI’mabit…tall?Butisn’ttallin?The
fashiondesignerslovetallwomen,theScorpionBowltellsme.Isnort.Maybewomenwhoarethirty
orfortypoundslighterthanIam,butstill.Betterfive-elevenandthree-quartersthanfourfootnine.
Andyes,I’mstrong.Healthy.Strapping.Muscular.Teamster-esque.

Isigh.No,Mr.NewYorkTimesFashionSectionwouldneverevennoticeme.It’sapity,becauseI’m
gettingalittleturnedonjustwatchinghimchew.It’ssexy.Sexychewing.Listentome!Andyetit’s
true.I’veneverseensexierchewing.

Someoneslidesinnexttomeatthecrowdedbar.Trevor.Great.Helooksatme,doesadoubletake,
andonegetstheimpressionthathewouldn’thavechosenthisparticularspotatthebarhadheknown
theO’Neillgirlwassittinghere.

“Hey,Chas,”hesaysamiablyenough.“How’sitgoing?”

“Hi,Trevor,I’vebeendumped,”Iannounce,regrettingitimmediately.Itwassupposedtosoundself-
deprecatingandwry,butitfallsflat.

“Whodumpedyou?”hesays.“Notthatskinnypaleguy?”

Inod,notlookingatTrevor,whoisneitherskinnynorpale,butbrawnyandchocolate-eyedand
irresistible.

“Areyoukidding?Hedumpedyou?”

Asmallsmiletugsatmymouth.“Yes,”Iacknowledge.“Andthanks.”

“Well,you’rebetteroffwithouthim,”Trevorsays.“Hewasanidiot.”Trevormethimonlyonce,but
hisassessment,Imustadmit,isspoton.Idon’tanswer,andTrevorlooksatmecarefully.“Youwant
metowalkyouhome,Chastity?”Heglancesaroundthebar.“Iguessnoneoftheboysarehere.”The
boysbeingmybrothersanddad,ofcourse.

“No,”Isigh,abitwetly.“I’lljustsithereandwatchtheYanks.”

“Right.Well,I’llhangoutwithyou,”hesays,dutifulasever.

“Thanks,Trev.”Iblinkbackthepathetictearsthathisoffer—andprobablymybelovedScorpion
Bowl—invoke,thenmentallyslapmyself.Jasonisnotworthanyangstorwoe.It’sjustthatwhat
Jasonsaid…ithurt.Evenifhewasapatchouli-reekingjerk.

“Comeon.There’sabooth.”

Trevorgrabsthenachos,IgrabmyBowl.

Trevor—fivefootelevenandahalf—occupiesanoddspotinmyheart.Ontheonehand,he’slikemy
fifthbrother.I’veknownhimsinceIwasinthirdgrade,andhe’sthebestfriendofbothMarkand
Matt,twoofmyfourbrothers.Infact,TrevorhasspentmoretimewithmyfamilythanIhaveinthe
pasttenyears.Heworkswith—andreveres—myfather,whoisTrevor ’scaptain.He’sgodfatherto
oneofmynephews.He’sarguablymymother ’sfavoritechild,biologybedamned.

Ontheotherhand,andthisisprobablythehandthatmatters,he’sTrevor.TrevorJamesMeade.
Beautifulname,beautifulman.Andthoughhe’salongtime,veryclosefamilyfriend,andthoughI
findhimvery,veryattractive,Trevorisnotapossibility.Don’tdwellonit,Scorpyadvises.Scorpy
hasapoint.

ItrynottolookatTrevor,turnmyeyestoJeter—six-three,Godblesshim—andtheotherboys,but
thescoreis,oh,heck,threehundredandtwelvetotwoorsomethingandtheYanksareontheir
eleventhbatteroftheinning,soit’snotexactlyanail-biter.Iglanceacrossthetable.Trevorgivesme
aperfunctorysmile,buthelooksalittleuncomfortable.Ican’trememberthelasttimethatheandI
werealonetogether.Oh,shit,yesIcan.WhenhecamedowntoNewYorkCityandtoldmehewas
gettingmarried.Howcanagirlforget?Anothergrim,embarrassingmemory.Isigh,sipandtake
anotherlayerofnachos.

Trevorsignalseffortlesslytothewaitress—beingfemale,shenoticedTrevortheminutehewalked
in,andshestumblestoahaltatthejoyofbeingsummoned.Typical.

“Isthatyourfirstdrink,Chas?”Trevorasks.

“Yes,”Ireply.“JustonelittleScorpionBowl.They’rekindofcute,aren’tthey?”

Trevorsmilesmoregenuinely.“Hopeyouwon’tmindifIwalkyouhometonight.”

“Notatall,FirefighterMeade.”Igrinbackalittlesloppily.

“WhatcanIgetyou?”thewaitressbreathesinaMarilynMonroesex-kittenvoice.“Wouldyoulikea
beer?Thewinelist?Afewkidsandamortgage?”Actually,shedidn’tspecificallysaythatlastone,
butitwasclearlyimplied.

“I’llhaveaSamAdams,”Trevorsays,smilingupather.

“I’dlikeanotherScorpionBowl,”Itellher.

“I’mLindsey,”shebreathes,ignoringme.“I’mnewhere.”

“Nicetomeetyou,Lindsey,”Trevorsays.Idon’tbothertoreply,sinceI’mnotpartofthis
conversationanyway.Onthetelevisionscreen,Jeterclipstheballoverthefirstbaseman’sheadand
fliesoffdownthefirstbaseline,stretchingthehitintoadouble.IgetthefeelingheknowsI’mfeeling
downandisdoinghisutmosttocheermeup.Oh,nowhe’sstealingthird.Yes,it’sclear.Jeterloves
me.

ThewaitressisslippingapieceofpapertoTrevor.Herphonenumber,nodoubt.Possiblyherbra
sizeandthepreferrednamesoftheirunbornchildren.WhatamI,bleepinginvisible?Howisa
womanwhoisfivefootelevenandthree-quartersinvisible?AndwhatifTrevorandIwereonadate?
We’renot,butitcouldhappen!

Trevhasthegracetolooksheepish,andmyirritationfades.It’sokay.Iunderstand.Trevoris,though
notexactlyhandsome,oneofthoseguyswhorenderswomenhelpless.Hisfeaturestakenonebyone
arenotsospecial.Putthemtogetherandyouhavethemaleequivalentofdeathbychocolate.An
utterlyappealing,absolutelylusciousman.Damnhim.

IeatsomemorenachosandfinishmybelovedScorpy.MaybeIshouldtrybeingasboldasLindsey,
thesex-kittenwaitress.Afterall,she’sbeenhereforaminuteandahalfandareallynice,good-
lookingfirefighterhashernumber.

“Sorryaboutthat,”Trevorsays.

“Sorryaboutwhat?”Isaycasually,lookingoutagainattherestauranthalfofEmo’s.There’stheNew
YorkTimesmodel.Heissohandsome.Hisbonestructuresuggestsanicyreserve,ifsuchathingis
possible,notlikeTrev’sinstantlyloveableface.

AnotherScorpionBowlappearsbeforeme,asifbymagic.No,notmagic.Stu,thebartender—who
noticedmewhenLindseythewaitressdidnot.GoodoldStu.Toobadhe’smarriedandsixtyyears

old.Otherwise,I’dbealloverhim.Itakeagratefulsip,winceasmytastebudsprotest,thenswallow.I
needthebooze,frankly.It’snoteverynightthatInearlychoketodeathandgetdumped,afterall.

“Sowhatdidyourdumb-assboyfriendsay,anyway?”Trevorasks,takingaslabofnachosfor
himself.

Ipause.TheScorpionBowldemandsthatIanswerhonestly.“HesaidI’mnotattractiveenough.”

Trevorstopschewing.“Whatanasshole.”

Ismile.Anothershowofloyalty.“Thanks.”Takingachipdevoidofanycheeseorolive,Ibreakit
intocrumbsandarrangetheminapatternonthetable.Thisisgood,becauseifIlookup,theroom
spinsalittle.ScorpytheSecondsuggeststhatIpickTrevor ’sbrain.Afterall,Trevorisanexperton
women.And,Scorpycontinues,hasn’tTrevknownmelongenoughtobehonest,ifnothingelse?
“Trevor,tellthetruth.AmI…pretty?”

Hiseyebrowsriseinsurprise.“Ofcourseyou’re…well,okay,maybepretty’snottherightword.
Striking.How’sthat?”

Irollmyeyes.“Kindofcrappy,tobehonest.Striking.Asinstrikingout,asin‘WhenwillA-Rodstop
strikingoutinthepost-season?’Orasinaprotest,asin‘We’restrikingbecauseconditionssuck.’”

Trevorgrins.“Let’sswitchyoutosomewater,whatdoyousay?”

“Comeon.Tellme.”

“Tellyouwhat,Chastity?”

“Well,yousleptwithme.Youmusthavefoundmeattractive,right?”

Trevorfreezes,hisbeerhalfwaytohismouth.

“ColumbusDayweekend,remember?”Icontinue.“Myfreshmanyearofcollege.You—”

“OfcourseIremember,Chastity,”Trevorsays,hisvoicelow.“Ijustwasn’tawarethatweweregoing
todiscussit.It’sbeen,what,twelveyears?MaybeIcouldgetalittlewarningnexttime.”

“Don’tgetallprissy,”Isay,takinganothersipofmydrink.“So?”Mytoneisnonchalant,butmyface,
Inote,feelswarm.ScorpyIItellsmenottoworry.

“Sowhat?”Trevorsays,hisfacestern.

“Well,youmusthavefoundmesomewhatattractive,right?”

“OfcourseIfoundyouattractive,”Trevorsayscarefully,shiftinghisgazetoapointtotheleftofmy
head.“You’reveryattractive.”

“But…”Iprod.

“Butnothing.You’reattractive,okay?You’reunconventionallybeautiful.Don’tletthatscrawnylittle
weeniemakeyoufeelinsecure.”

“I’mnot.Justwondering—ifmenfindmeattractive.”

“Well,I’mwonderingifyouneedsomethingalittlemoresubstantialthannachos.Howaboutsome
dinner?Wantaburger?”

“I’mnothungry,”Isayaroundthelastmouthfulofnachos.

Trevrunshishandthroughhiswavybrownhair,hairI’vealwaysloved.Thick,rich,wavyand
tousled,thecolorofblackcoffee,silkysmooth…I’dbetterstop.He’slookingatmeoddly.“Sowhat
doyouwantfromme?”heasks.

Fourchildren.“Justbehonest.”

“Aboutwhat?”

“Aboutmenandme.”

TheremustbesomethinginmyexpressionthatmakesTrevortakepityonme.“Chastity,”hebegins.
“Menloveyou.You’relotsoffun.Infact,you’vealwaysbeenoneofthe—”Hebreaksoffsuddenly.

“What?Oneofthewhat?Oneoftheguys?Isthatwhatyouweregoingtosay?ThatI’moneofthe
guys?”Myvoiceisshrill.Andpossiblyalittleloud.

“Uh,well,inagoodway,youknow?”

“Howisthatgood?”Idemand.

Trevorwinces.“Well,youknowalotaboutsports,right?Andmanymenenjoysports.”Igroan;Trev
grimaces.“Andyouplaydartsandpoolandstufflikethat.Um,weallhadagoodtimedoingthat
triathlonwithyouacoupleyearsago.TheMDAthing?”

IsighandreachformyScorpy,butTrevorhasmoveditoutofreach.Hepushesaglassofwater
towardmeinstead.Irollmyeyes…oneseemstogetstuck…andlookoncemoreatMr.NewYork
Times.IwishIwasmarriedtohim.Iwonderifthere’sawayIcanconveythissomehow.Lookover
here,buddy.Marryme.Hesmilesatsomethinghiswhite-hairedcompanionsaysandcontinuestobe
unawarethathissoulmatesitsjustyardsaway.

Justthen,thepretty,slutty,number-giving-outwaitressreappearswithyetanotherScorpionBowl.
Eveninmytipsystate,IrealizethatTrevorisrightandIshouldn’tdrinkanotherdrop.Then,
realizationdawnsinaglorioussunburst.Someoneissendingmeadrink!

“Fromapotentialfriend,”SluttyWaitresssays,hervoiceloadedwithmeaning,andsetstheglassin
frontofme.

Well,thisisachange!Someoneisinterestedinme!Howthrilling!Mycheeksflushinpleasure.
ThankGod!Talkaboutthecavalryrushinginjustattherightmoment!Justwhenmyegolies

twitchinginthegutter,someonehassentmeadrink!OhmyGod,coulditbefromMr.NewYork
Times?Nowonderhewouldn’tlookatme…he’swaitingtoseemyreaction!Asurgeofadrenaline
floodsmychest,andmyeyelidsseemtobefluttering.Iglanceover.He’sstillnotlooking.Mustbe
shy.Howadorable!

“Isitfromthe—”god“—manatthattable?”Iask,gesturinginhisgeneraldirection.

“No.Fromthe…person?Overthere,”thewaitresssays.“Atthebar.”

Heartthumping,Icranemynecktoseewhoitis.Trevordoesthesame.

Sittingatthebar,lookingatmewithasmile,isawoman.Sheliftsherbeerglass—I’mguessing
Miller—andsalutesme.BecauseIdon’tknowwhatelsetodo,Iwavebackweakly.She’sfairly
attractive,withshortdarkhairandapleasantplumpnesstoher,andsheseemstohaveaniceface.
However,thisdoesn’terasethefactthatI’mnotalesbian.Trevorcovershiseyeswithonehand.I
suspectheislaughing.Hismouthtwitches.Yes.Bastard.

“Couldyou…couldyoutellher…I…it’sjustthat…”Myfaceisflaming.

“She’sspokenfor,”Trevormanagestosaysomberly.“Thanksanyway.Youcantakethedrinkback.”

Thewaitressnods,takestheglassawayandundulatesherassinchesfromTrevor ’sshoulder.Iputmy
headonthetable.

“Oh,Chas,”Trevorlaughs.Withoutliftingmyhead,Igivehimthefinger.

Hegetsoutofhisseatandcomestositnexttome,puttingabrotherlyarmaroundmyshoulders.
“Don’tbeglum,Chas.Thingswillworkout.”

“Blahblahbleepingblah,”Imutter,resistingtheurgetopunchhiminthekidney.Suchplatitudesare
asaboutashelpfulastossingabowlingballtoadrowningman.IhatethefactthatIputupwiththe
tepidandfreckledJason,evenforafewweeks.HateitthatMr.NewYorkTimesismilesoutofmy
league.HatethefactthatI’vejustbeenmistakenforalesbian.

It’snotfair.Here’sTrevor,thevaginamagnet,abletoseduceinninetyseconds.Mybrothers,ranging
inagefromthirty-eighttothirty-two,havetofightwomenoffwithaTaserandasturdychair.Yet
somehow,atjustpastthirty,I’vebecomeapariah.Mentionmyagetoamanandhelooksstricken,as
ifI’vejusttoldhimexactlyhowmanyviableeggsIhavesittinginmyovariesandhowverymuchI’d
likethemtobefertilized.It’snotfair.

AsIsitnexttoTrevor,theembodimentofeverythinggoodinamale,myfirstlove,thefirstmanI
sleptwith,themanwhoI’mjustgoingtohavetogetusedtoseeingwithotherwomen,Imakeavow.

Thingsaregoingtochange.Ineedtofallinlove.Fast.

CHAPTERTWO

I

ALWAYSKNEW

I’dmovebacktoEatonFalls.Itwasmydestiny.TheO’Neillsgobacksixgenerations

here,andIwantmyfuturechildrentoemulatemyownwholesomechildhood—fishingonLake
George,hikingthemanymountaintrailsoftheAdirondacks,canoeing,kayaking,skiing,skating;
breathingpure,cleanair;knowingthepeopleatthepostofficeandthetownhall;andofcourse,
beingnearthefamily.

Granted,I’dimaginedthatthedayImovedback,itwouldbebecausemyadoringhusbandandIwere
readytosettledownandraisethosefourkids.Instead,though,Imovedonmyown.I’dbeenworking
attheStarLedger,livinginglamorousNewark,whenfateintervened.TheEatonFallsGazette,my
hometownpaper,waslookingforaneditor—softnewsandfeatures.I’ddonemytimeatabig-city
paperandwasreadyforsomethingelse.Everythingfellintoplaceatonce—Itookthejob,moved
backinwithMom,andtwoweekslater,madeanofferonatinyandadorablehouse.Becausethe
mortgagewasalittlesteep,Itookonmyyoungestbrotherasatenant,slappedonafewcoatsofpaint
andmovedin.

Thatwassixweeksago.It’sallbeenalittlerushed,butit’sreallycometogether.

Todayisasoft,beautifulSaturdaymorninginApril,possiblythemostperfectdayevermade.The
skyispaleblue,fogswirlsoffthemightyHudsonRiver,andthetreesaretoppedwithonlythepalest
greenblurofbuds.Idon’tseeasoulasIrundownBankStreet,mysneakersslappingthepavement.
Attheendofthelaneisalargeshedmadeofcorrugatedmetal.Istop,suckinginabreathofthe
clean,dampair,simply,utterly,deeplyhappytobebackinmyhometown.

IrentthisshedfromOldManMcCluskey.It’safarcryfromtheboathousesI’veusedinthepast,but
itwilldo.Itwistthecombinationonthelockandopenthedoor.Theresheis,Rosebud,my
magnificentwoodenKingrowingshell.“Goodmorning,sunshine,”Isay,myvoiceechoingoffthe
metalwalls.Grabbingmyoars,Itakethemouttothedock,setthemdowncarefully,thengobackin
theshed,takeRosebuddownfromhercanvasharnessandcarryheroutside.Shemaybethirtyfeet
long,butshe’slightasafeather—well,athirty-five-poundfeather.Islipherintothewater,setthe
oarsandthen,holdinghersteadyagainstthedock,Iclimbin,tiemylacesandoffwego.

IbeganrowingwhenmybrotherLuckyjoinedthecrewincollegeandneededsomeonetoimpress.I
wasthatperson…whatarelittlesistersfor,afterall?Luckyletmetryouthisscull,andweinstantly
discoveredIwasborntorow.WhenIwenttoBinghamtonUniversity,Iwasontheexclusivefour
withthreeotherbrawny,proudgirls.WhileinNewJersey,IbelongedtothePassaicRiverRowing
Club,butnow,backhome,Irowalone,andIthinkI’vediscoveredthetrue,Zen-likeserenityofthe
sport.Lastweek,IsawaVofgeesereturning,likeme,totheAdirondacksfromtheirsouthern
sojourn,flyingsolowIcouldseetheirblackfeettuckedagainsttheirdownybellies.Thursday,itwas
anotter,andyesterday,Isawagiantblurofbrownthatmayhavebeenamoose.Inthefall,our
famousglowingfoliagewilllightupthehillsideslikeyellowandgoldenflame.Bleepingglorious.

Thenarrowshellslicesthroughtheriver,theonlysoundthegentlelappingofthewateragainstthe
hull.Icheckovermyshoulderandpullharder,featherandsquare,featherandsquare,gradually
increasingtheloadofthewateragainstmyoars,cuttingthemintotheriveratpreciseangles,my
bodycontractingandexpandingwitheachstroke.Littlewhirlpoolsmarkmyprogressuptheriver,

andthedrippingoarsleavingamapofwhereI’vebeen.Featherandsquare,featherandsquare.

It’sagoodcureforthehangoverIwokeupwithaftermynightwiththeScorpionBowls,andagood
preventionfortheheadacheI’msuretogetatMom’slatertoday.Familydinner,attendance
mandatory.ThatmeansMomandDad,myfourbrothers,Matthew,Mark,LukeandJohn,better
knownasMatt,Mark,LuckyandJack,andtheirspousesandprogeny.

Jackismyoldestbrother,marriedtoSarahandtheproudfatheroffourkids—Claire,Olivia,Sophie
andGraham.LuckyandTaraareinhotpursuitwiththree—Christopher,AnnieandbabyJenny.Sarah
andTaraarebetterknownas“theStarahs.”Mark,thethirdO’Neillboy,isinthemiddleofabitter
divorcefrommyoldestfriend,Elaina.Theyhaveason,Dylan.ThencomesMatt,single,childless
andcurrentlymyhousemate,andfinallyme,thebabyofthefamily.

Trevormayalsobethere,theunofficialO’Neill,practicallyadoptedbymyparentswhenhewasa
teenagerandafrequentguestatfamilyevents.GoodoldTrevor.Ipullharder,faster,streakingupthe
Hudsoninaglidingrhythm.Mymusclesachewithasatisfyingburn,sweatdarkensmyT-shirt,and
allIcanhearistheslipoftheoarsintothewaterandmyownhardbreath.

Anhourlater,IfinishmyrowfeelingsubstantiallylesspollutedthanwhenIstarted.IliftRosebud
intohersling,patherfondlyandjoghome.Yes,I’majock.Allthatexerciseletsmeenjoyeveryjunk
foodonearth,soifforonlythatreason,it’sworthit.Irunupthefrontporchstairs,openthebeautiful
oakdoorandbracemyselfagainstthewall.“Mommy’shome!”

Andhereshecomes,mybaby,onehundredandtwentypoundsofloosemuscle,droopingjowlsand
purecaninelove.Buttercup.“Aaaahhroooorooorooo!”shebays,hergiantpawsscrabblingforgrip
onthehardwoodfloors.Iwinceasshegathershersloppylimbsandleaps,crashingagainstme.

“Hello,Buttercup!Who’saprettygirl,huh?Didyoumissme?Youdid?Imissedyou,too,beautiful
girl!”Ipethervigorously,andshecollapsesinagratefulheap,snufflingwithjoy.

BeingButtercup’sowner,Ifeelthatmaternalobligationtolietoheraboutherphysicalappearance.
Buttercupisnotaprettydog.AssoonasIhadmyhousesecuredlastmonth,Iwenttothepound.One
lookandIhadtohaveher,becauseitwasclearnooneelsewould.Partbloodhound,partGreatDane
andpartbullmastiff,hercoatisred,herearsarelong,hertaillikerazorwire.Bonyhead,awkward
body,massivepaws,droopingjowls,dolefulyelloweyes…Well,shewon’tbewinninganydoggy
beautypageants,butIloveher,evenifheronlytricksthusfararesleeping,droolingandeating.

“Okay,dumpling,”IsayafterButtercuphaslashedmewithhertailandslobberedacuporsoof
salivaonmysleeve.Shewagsoncemoreandfallsalmostinstantlyasleep.Istepoverherlargebody
andheadforthekitchen,weakwithhunger.

AsIripopenapackageofcinnamon/brownsugarPop-Tarts,Ileanmyheadfondlyagainstthe
kitchencabinet.Ilovemynewhouse,thefirstthatI’veowned.Sure,ithasitsproblems—capricious
furnace,tinyhotwatertank,unusablemasterbathroom,butit’sprettymuchmydreamhouse.A
Craftsmanbungalow(EatonFallsisfullofthem,andI’vealwayscovetedtheirpetitecharm),the
househassturdystonecolumnsontheporch,funkylead-panedwindowsandpatternedhardwood
floors.Ihavethebiggerbedroomupstairs,Matthasthesmalleroneoffthekitchen.Onceweworked
outthe“toiletseatgoesdown”rule,mybrotherMattandIhavegottenalongquitewell.

“Hey,Chas.”Saidbrotheremergesfromthebathroominhisrattyblue-plaidbathrobeandacloudof
steam.

“Hey,pal.WantaPop-Tart?”

“Sure.Thanks.”

“Didyoujusttakeashower?”Iask.

“Yup.Allyours.”

“Andofcourse,beingtheoneconsideratebrotherIown,youleftmesomehotwater,”Isaywith
greathope.

“Oops.Ididkindofspaceoutinthere.Sorry.”

“Selfish,spoiledbaby.”Isighwithmartyrishsuffering.

“Don’ttalkaboutyourselfthatway.”Hegrinsandpoursuseachacupofcoffee.

“Thanks.Hey,whenareyouguysgoingtostarttheupstairsbathroom?”Iask,takingagratefulsip.
“Nooffense,butI’mreallylookingforwardtoatubofmyown.”

“Right,”Mattanswers.“Hm.Notsure.”

Likemostfirefighters,Matthasasidejob,sincethecityfathersdon’tseefittopayitsheroesalivable
wage.(ThisisatiradeIwasraisedon.)Matt,alongwithLuckyandafewotherguys,dorenovations,
andsoofcourseIhiredthemtoredomybathroom.Someday,itwillbegorgeous—Jacuzzitub,new
tilefloor,apedestalsink,prettyshelvesandallsortsofneatcontainerstoholdmygirlystuff.
Unfortunately,otherjobsfromnonrelativeshavetakenprecedence.

“Maybeyoucangetstartedbeforemydeath,”IsayaroundabiteofPop-Tart.

“Yeah,well,that’sgonnabetight,”Mattdeadpans.Fromtheotherroom,Buttercup,whohasbeen
sleepingsoundly,scrabblesfromherpronepositionasifshe’sjustscentedamissingchild.Matt
braceshimselfagainstthewall.“Hi,Buttercup.”

“Aaaahhroooorooorooo!”shebays,rejoicingatthesoundofMatt’svoiceasifshe’dbeenparted
fromhimbywarandnotherownnap.Tailwhippingdangerouslywithlove,shelumbersovertohim
—jowlsquivering,hindquartersswaying—crashesintohispelvis,thencollapseswithagroanathis
feet,heavingherselfonherback,softball-sizedpawswavingintheair.

“MyGod,you’reawhore,”Matttellsher,obliginglyrubbingherexpansivetummywithhisfoot.

“Takesonetoknowone,”Icomment,bendingdowntounlacemysneakers.

“Speakingofwhores,howwasyournight?”Mattasks.“YouwenttoEmo’s,right?”

Isigh,thenlookathisface.He’stryingnottolaugh.“Youalreadyknow,youbastard.Whotoldyou?

Trevor?”

“Santocalled.Saidyouhaveanewgirlfriend.”Mattstraightensup,laughing.“Soareyoubattingfor
theothersidenow,Chas?”

“Biteme,Mattie.”IgrabmyPop-Tartsandheadforthestairs.“Listen,I’mgonnafinishpaintingmy
wainscoting.WhattimeisdinneratMom’s?”

Mattgrimaces.“Two.”

“Wheredoyouwanttogofirst?”

“TheDugout?”hesuggests.Yes,Momiscookingdinner.That’sthepoint.

“Soundsgreat.”

Afewhourslater,MattandIhopinmycar,Buttercupdrapedoverthebackseat,snoringloudly.
Leavingherinthecar,wedropintotheDugoutforbuffalowingsandfriedcalamari,amiably
watchingSportsCenterasweeat,thenpayourtabandheadforthefamilyhome.

“Wherehaveyoubeen?”Mombarksaswecomethroughthedoor.Theroarofthefamilygathering
hitsmelikeatruck.

“Gutterbup!”Dylanshrieks,runningtowardmydog,whocollapsesonthefloor,rollingoversothe
toddlercanscratchherstomach.Fromtheotherroom,Elainagivesmeawave.Idistantlyhearmy
brotherMarkspeakingsharplytosomeonefromthebasement.Uh-oh.ElainaandMarkinthesame
house…notpretty.

“Hi,Mom,”Isay,bendingtokisshercheek.“NiceofyoutoinviteElaina.”

“It’sabouttimethosetwogotbacktogether,”sheannounces,yankingthetiesofherapronalittle
tighter.

“Andaretheyfallingovereachotherinlove?”Iask.

“Notexactly,”sheacknowledges.“Shehasn’tforgivenhimyet.”

“Hedidcheatonher,Mom.”

“Dowehavetodiscussthisnow?”

“No,wedonot.Iseveryoneelsehere?”Iask.

“Yes,we’vebeenwaitingforyoutwo,theroastisalmostready,nowshoo!Getoutofthekitchen!
Takethatcarcassyoucalladogwithyou.Go!”

“Auntie!Auntie!PlayBuckingBroncowithme!Please?Please?Pleasepleaseplease?”mynine-year-
oldnieceClairebegs.

“No!WildWildWolves!Youpromised,Auntie!”Annie,seven,yanksmyhand.

“Okay,okay,wolvesandBroncos,comingup.LetmemoveButtercup,okay?”Buttercupdoesnot
agreetogetup,justblinksatmereproachfully.Islidemyarmsaroundherbellyandheavehertoher
feet,but,jellylike,sherefusestostand.I’mforcedtograbhercollaranddragherintotheliving
room,wheresheliesnexttothedoor,happilyallowingDylantolookinhermassiveears.

Dad’ssittinginhischair,pretendingtobeasleep.SophieandOliviagigglewildlyashesnores.
“Wakeup,Grampa!”Sophieorders.“It’sdinnertime!”Dadsnufflesandsnoressomemore,then
lurchesupright.

“I’mstarving!”hebellows.“Butnotfordinner.For…for…”Helooksathisgranddaughters,who
waitwithbreathlessjoy.“Forchildren!”Hegrowlsandlungesatthem,pretendingtodevourlimbs
andheadsandbelliesasthegirlsscreamandpullaway,thenflingthemselvesbackformore.

“Hey,everyone,”Isay.

“Wolves,Auntie!”

“Yup,inaminute,kids.Hi,Lucky,”Isay.“Hi,Tara.”Ikissmysister-in-law’scheek.“How’sitgoing?
Where’sJack?”

“HeandTrevorareinthecellarwithChris.PlayingNintendo,Ithink.Mark’sdownthere,too,
avoidinghiswife,”Luckysays.

“Ex-wife,”Taramurmurs.

“Notyet,”Luckycorrects.

“I’mrighthere,soifyou’regonnatalkaboutme,couldyouatleastkeepitquiet?”Elainasays,doing
herinimitableLatinaheadwiggle.“Hey,Chas,what’snew?”BeforeIcananswer,shepicksupDylan
andsniffshisbottom.“Holdthatthought,”shesays,hasteningoffdownthehall,herblackcurls
bouncing.

“AreyoureadytoplayBroncos,Auntie?”Clairebegs.

“Chastity,”Tarasays.“Listen,beforeitgetscrazyinhere,Iwantedtoaskyouafavor.It’sour
anniversaryattheendofthemonth,andwewerewondering…wehoped,actually…”

“Weprayed,Chas,”saysLucky,puttinganarmaroundhiswife.“Weprayedonourkneesthatyou
wouldfinditinyourhearttowatchthekidsforus.FridaytillSunday,lastweekendofApril.”

Ipause,bendingdowntopickupGraham,Jack’syoungest,whoisoneandahalfandgnawingonmy
bootlace.“Areyououtofyourminds?”IaskLuckyandTara.“Comeon!Youwantme—me!—to
babysityourlittlemonsters?Foranentireweekend?”Theyhavethegracetolookashamed.“Doyou
rememberwhathappenedlasttime?Theropeburnsonmyankles?”Taragrimaces.“Christopher
eatingrawpumpkinandthrowingupbehindthecouch?Anniepeeingonmybed?”

“Irememberthat!”Annieexclaimsjoyfully.“IpeedonAuntie!”

Luckyhangshishead.“Forgetit,”hemumbles.“Sorry.”

“Oh,lightenup.”Igrin.“OfcourseI’lldoit.”

“Toldyou,”Luckymurmurstohiswife.InuzzleGraham’ssoft,chubbycheek,thenimitateabirdto
makehimsmile.

“You’reasaint.”Tarasighshappily.“Nameyourprice.”

Ifeelaflushcreepupmyneck.“Well…”

Theireyebrowsriseexpectantly.Theflushprickleshotter,butIcan’taffordnottoask.“I’minterested
in…youknow.”

“Becomingalesbian?”Luckyguesseswithaknowingwink.

Ipunchhimintheribs,gratifiedtoseehimwince.“Aren’tyousupposedtobekissinguptomeright
now,Lucky?”

“Yes,yes,ofcourse,”Luckyamends.“Whatcanwedoforyou,Chas?”

Iheaveasighandrollmyeyesbutforcemyselftocontinue.“I’dliketomeetadecentguy,”Imutter.
“Soifyouknowanyone…”

“Sure!”Tarachirps.“SlimpickingssofarinEatonFalls?”

“Well,”Isay,staringatGraham’screamyskinandtranslucentpinkstick-outears.“It’snotthatIdon’t
meetsinglemen.It’sjustthattheytendtobe…freaks.NooneI’dwanttofathermychildren.You
knowhowitis.”Actually,shedoesn’tknow.She’sthirty-one,marriedforeightyearswiththree
gorgeouskids.“Anyway.IcanuseallthehelpIcanget.”

“Ittakesavillage,”Luckymurmurswithfalsecompassion.Inarrowmyeyesathim,butIneedhim.
Alltheliteratureondating(yes,I’vereadit)saystotelleveryoneyouknowthatyou’reseekinga
mate.Howevermortifyinganddemeaningthatmightbe.

“I’llkeepmyeyesopen,”shesays.Luckynods.Fromthebedroomdownthehall,Jennycriesout,and
theybothheaddowntocheckontheiryoungest.Grahamsquirmstobeletdownandtoddlesafter
them.

Ifindthatmyhandisovermyabdomen,asifcheckingformyownbaby.Notthere,ofcourse.Atthis
moment,it’shardtoimaginewhatitwouldbelikeformystomach,whichisasleanandhardas
plywood,toswellwithababy.Forthepink-cheeked,drowsy-eyedbabytobemylittleboyorgirl.

“Auntie,look!”Oliviasays.

Iputmyhandonhergloriousredcurls(shetakesafterhermomandnottheblack-IrishO’Neills).
“Whatisit,Poopyhead?”

“Ihavealoosetooth!”sheannounces,openinghermouth.BeforeIcanprotest,beforeIcanevenget

asoundout,herchubbyfingershovesafronttoothway,waybacktorevealagaping,crimsoncrater.
Astringofbloodtricklesdown,threadingthroughtheotherteeth.Mystomachdropstomykneesand
allthebreathseemstoleavemylungs.

“Thee?”Livvyasks,stillrevealingthepit.Alittleblood-tingedspittlelandsonmyhand.“Theeit?
It’ththolooth!”

“Don’t…I…honey…”Myvisionisgraying,myhandsclammyandcold.Itakeastaggeringstep
back,bumpingintomyfather,whosteadiesme.

“Livvy!YouknowAuntiedoesn’tlikeblood!ShowUncleMarkinstead.”

Iblink,thenshakemyheadindisgust.“Thanks,Dad.”Isigh.

“Mypoorlittleweenie,”hesays,pattingmyshoulder.

Thefamiliarmixtureofirritationandself-disgustrollsoverme.Inafamilyofalpha-malehero
types,notonlyamItheonlygirl(andsingle,andchildless),Iamalsotheonlywuss.JustincaseI
didn’tfeeldifferentenough.Despitemystrappingstature,myabilitytorunmarathonsandhikethe
AppalachianTrail,there’sachinkinmyarmor,anditsnameisblood.Andgore.Thetwins,Blood
andGore.IamtheonlyO’Neillwhomissedthe“I’llsaveyou”gene.

AsmembersoftheEatonFallsFireDepartment,Dad,MarkandMatt(andTrevor,forthatmatter)
havesaveddozens,possiblyhundreds,oflivesinonewayoranother,whetherit’scarryingsomeone
outofaburningbuildingordoingCPRorpullingthemoutoftheriverorjustinstallingafree
smokedetector.LuckyisamemberoftheNewYorkStatePolicebombsquad.Jackisahelicopter
paramedic,nowwithaprivatecompanyinAlbany.HewasawardedtheCongressionalMedalof
HonorforadramaticrescueduringhistourinAfghanistan,forcryingoutloud.

Evenmymother,whoisfivefoottwoandweighsonehundredandeightpounds,gavebirthtofive
children,noneofusunderninepounds,withoutadropofpainkillerofanykind.

Butsomehow,Ihavetheembarrassingtendencytofaintatthesightofblood.WhenElainainvitedme
towitnessDylan’sbirth,Inearlypeedmyself.Once,atthebrisofafriend’ssoninNewJersey,I
hyperventilatedandstaggeredintothehorsd’oeuvrestable,ruiningtwohundreddollars’worthof
deviledeggs,smokedsalmonandmatzoballs.Whenwehadtodissectafroginhighschool,Ipassed
out,hitmyheadonthelabcounter,cameto,sawmybloodandfaintedagain.

ButI’mtakingstepsonthatfront.ThoughIwon’ttellmyfamilyaboutthisuntilit’sover,Irecently
enrolledinacoursetobecomeanEMT.Anemergencymedicaltechnician.Me.Surely,Iliketo
imagine,buriedbeneathmylayersofweenie-nessandamassivecaseoftheheebie-jeebies,therelurk
thegeneticsthatletmybrothersenjoytheiradrenaline-soakedlives.Plus,maybethere’llbeacute
guyintheclass.

“WhowantstoplayWildWildWolves?”Iaskmynieces.

“Ido!”shriekClaire,Anne,LivvyandSophie.

“Whowantstobethehurtbunny?”

“Me!Me!”

Igetdownonthefloorandbeginsnarling.“Grr!Oh,man,it’sbeenahardwinter,andI’mso,so
hungry!Oh,look!Apoorwoundedbunnyrabbit!”Thegirlsscreamwithjoyandtrytocrawlaway,
draggingtheirlegsbehindthem.Ipounce,dragandchew,theirscreamsofjoypiercingtheair.

“Sohow’severythingelsewithmylittlegirl?”myfatherasksasIgnawonhisgrandchildren.His
blackhair,heavilylacedwithsilver,ismussed.“Didyoustartworkyet?”

“Justthemeetandgreet.Grr!Gotcha!Delicious!Andyou’retheonlymanonearthwhoreferstome
aslittle,”Ianswer.“I’mstartingMonday,actually.”

“Can’twaittoseeyourbyline.”Hewinks.

“Hey,Chastity.”IturntoseeTrevorleaninginthedoorway,smiling,andmykneestingleshamefully.

“Howareyou,Trev?”Iaskbriskly.

“Great.Howareyou?”Hesmilesinconspiratorialknowledge—ah,yes,theScorpionBowls—and
mystomachtugsinembarrassment.

“Sowhat’snewatthefirehousethesedays,guys?”IaskbothmydadandTrevor,whilestillchewing
onClaire’schubbylittlefoot.

“Oh,theusual,”Dadanswers.“Fiftypoundsofshit—”

“Inafive-poundbag,”Trevorfinishesamiably.

“Porkchop,”Dadsays,“what’sthisaboutyouwantingaboyfriend?”

Myjawclenches,butI’msavedbymyniece,whocrashesintomyfather ’sknees.“Grampa,canyou
eatusagain?”Sophiebegs.“Canyoupretendtobeasleep,andthenwe’llplaywithyourhairandthen
youcanopenyoureyesandsayyou’rehungryforchildrenandpretendtoeatus?Please?Please?”

“Notnow,honey.Grampawantstoeatrealfood.”

“Shouldhavestoppedsomewherefirst,Dad,”Jackcalls.Iwavetohim.

“Iwon’thaveyoukidsinsultingyourmother ’scooking.It’sperfectlywonderful,”Dadstatesloudly.
“Ofcourse,IstoppedatMcDonald’s,so…”headdsmuchmorequietly.

Trevorwandersofftogetabeer,soIamsavedfurtherhumiliationasmyfatherpicksupthethreadof
ourearlierconversation.“Anyway,Chastity,whydoyouwanttostartdating?Don’tyouknowwhat
schmucksmenare?”

IfinishchewingonGraham,who’sthemostrecentwoundedbunny,andstandup.“Youneedtoget
overthatweirdIrishideathatit’smydestinytowipethedrooloffyourchin,Dad.And,yes,ofcourse
Iknowwhatschmucksmenare.Lookaround!Yougavemefourbrothers.”

Hesmilesproudly.

“I’manormalperson,Dad,”Isaywithasigh.“OfcourseIwanttogetmarriedandhavesomekids.
Don’tyouwantmoregrandchildren?”

“Ihavetoomanygrandchildrenalready,”heanswers.“IthinkImayhavetostarteatingmore!”With
that,hepouncesonDylan,whoburstsintotears.

“Dad!Comeon!Itoldyouhedoesn’tlikethat!”Markyells,scoopinghissonintohisarms.“Don’t
cry,buddy.Grampawasjustbeinganidiot.”

HepushespastElainawithoutsomuchasaglance.Shehissesathisback,thencutshereyestome.
“Comeoverlater.I’msofrickingmadIcouldspitacid.”

“Soundslikefun,”Ianswer.“Eighto’clock?”

“Dinner!”Mombarks.

Wefileintothediningroom—Mom,Dad,Jack,Sarah,Lucky,Tara,Elaina,Matt,Trevorandme
jammedaroundthetable.Mark,inordertoavoidElaina,announceswithgreatmartyrishresignation
thathe’lleatinthekitchenandsupervisethekids.

Momleansoverandsnatchesthecoverofftheplatter,unveilinghercreation.Callingitdinnerwould
beinaccurateandsomehowcruel.

Jackstaresatitdespondently.“Thatpotroastwillcomeoutofmethesamewayitgoesin,”he
announces.“Stringy,grayandtough.Andwithagreatdealofeffort.”

“JohnMichaelO’Neill!Shameonyou!”Momsputtersastherestofustryunsuccessfullytohideour
laughter.

“Thanksforsharing,Jack,”Sarahsayswithresignedamusement.

“Thatwasreallygross,buddy,”Luckysays.“True,butgross.Ifitcomesout,thatis.Lasttimeweate
here,Iwasboundupforaweek.Lambstewthatmademylegshurt.IthinkIactuallybledwhen—”

“Luke!”Mombarks.Luckyducksjustintimetomissherhalfheartedslap.

WhileIunderstandthatIrishcuisineisverypopularrightnow,Mom’sIrishcookingismoreinthe
potato-faminestyle.Largehunkofpoorqualitybeef—boilit.Hugepotofgrayishpotatoes,boughtin
twentypoundssacksandstoredindefinitelyinthecellar—boilthem.Carrots?Boil.Turnips?Boil.
Greenbeans.Boil.Gravy?Burn.

“Mmm,”Isaybrightly.“Thanks,Mom.”

“Kiss-ass,”Mattmumblesnexttome.

“Biteme,”Imumbleback.

Wepretendtoeat,shovingfoodaroundfurtively,occasionallyriskingabiteofsomethingwhenwe
can’tavoidit.ItryslippingsomemeattoButtercup,whojuststaresatmedolefullyfromherpink-
rimmedeyes,thenletsherheadflopbackonthefloorwithahopelessthump.Fromthekitchen,we
canhearMarkrefereeingthekids.“Dylan,stopthrowing,buddy.Annie,that’snotcute,hon.Putit
backinyourmouth.Iknow,butGrandmamadeit.Here,Graham,I’llholdthatforyou.”He’strying
veryhardtosoundsaintlike.Elainapretendsnottonotice.Ican’treallyblameher.

“Well,thisisasgoodatimeasany,”Momsays,puttingherforkdown.“Listenup,people.I’ve
decidedtostartdating.”

Therestofusfreeze,then,asone,lookatDad—exceptforElaina,whocontinuestocuthergreen
beansintotinymoleculesthatshedoesn’teat.

“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”Dadasks.

Myparentsgotdivorcedaboutayearago.Itwasn’ttraumaticorangry—morelikeagametheyplay
witheachother.WhileDadnowhasanapartmentdowntown,thingshaveremainedprettymuchthe
same.Ifthefurnacegoesout,MomcallsDad.Ifthecarneedsfixing,MomcallsDad.Theyeat
togetheracoupleoftimesaweek,gotoallthegrandkideventstogether,andI’mguessingtheystill
sleeptogether,thoughthisisnotsomethingonwhichIwishtodwell.

“Dating,Mike.We’redivorced,remember?Forayearnow.AsIsaidtoyouoneighteenthousand
occasions,Iwantcertainthings.Sinceyouhaverefusedtogivethemtome,I’mmovingon.”

Sobeginstheirtraditionalargument.“Morewine,anyone?”Iask.

“Yes,please,”comesthechorus.

Myparentsloveeachother,butitdoesn’tseemliketheycanlivehappilytogether.It’snoteasytobea
firefighter ’swife.EverytimeDadwaslatecominghome,MomwouldslapontheTVandsit,grim-
faced,infrontofthelocalchannel,waitingtohearnewsofafire.Andiftherewasafire,she’dtwist
herweddingringandsnapatuskidsuntilDadcamehome,sootyandtiredandbuzzedonadrenaline.

Inadditiontotheterroroflosingone’sspousetoahorribledeath,there’stherealityofbeingmarried
toafirefighter.Sure,it’saheroicjob.Yes,thespousesaresoproud.Youbet,thoseguysaregreat.
ButhowmanyChristmasesandThanksgivingsandgamesandschoolrecitalsandconcertsand
lessonsandswimmeetsanddinnerstookplacewithoutDad?Dozens.Hundreds.Evenwhenhewas
home,thescannerwason,orDadwastalkingonthephonetooneoftheguys,orgoingtoaunion
meetingororganizingatrainingclass.OntherareweekendwhenDaddidn’twork,he’dbesoantsy
bythetimeSundayafternoonrolledaroundthathe’dgotothefirehousejusttocheckin.

Then,twoyearsago,BennyGrzowski,relativelynewtothedepartment,fellofftheroofofaburning
buildingwhilecuttingaventilationholeanddied.Hewastwenty-five.

Thereisnoeventmoresomberandspectacularthanafirefighter ’sfuneral.TheO’Neillclanwas
thereinfull,stone-faced(exceptforme;Iwasbawling).Whenwegottothecemetery,weallfiled
pasttheheadstone,alreadycarvedwithBenny’snameandyearsandthetraditionalinscription.
Husband.Father.Firefighter.IrememberMomlookingattheheadstoneaftertheservice.“You’d

havetoreversetheorderforyourfather,”shemuttered,turningaway.“Don’tevermarryamanwho
loveshisworkmorethanhelovesyou,Chastity.”

ItwasafterBenny’sdeaththatMomstartedpressuringDadtoretire.Shewantedtogooncruises,play
bridge,jointheEatonFallsSeniorClub,whichsponsorstripstotheracetrackandcasinos,theoutlets
andNiagaraFalls.Sheasked,waited,demanded,waited,ordered,waitedandfinallyfiledfordivorce.
Iguessshethoughthe’dcaveonceshedivorcedhim,butshejustwaitedsomemore.

Lookslikethewaitingisover.Shestaresimpassivelyatmyfatherandtakesabiteofherstringymeat.

“Thisisridiculous!”Dadpronounces.“You’renotdatinganyone!”

“Really?Watchme,oldman,”shehisses,thenturnstome.“Chastity,IheardyoutellingTarathatyou
wanttomeetsomeone.”

“Thankyou,Mom!Okay!Canwechangethesubject?”Iexclaim,myfaceburning.

“Ithinkweshouldgoinonthistogether,”sheannouncesbrightly.“Doubledate.”

“Jesus,”Imutter.Mattsmirks,andIshoothimthefinger.

“You’renotdating,”Dadrepeats.“You’rejustdoingthistopissmeoff,andit’sworking.Enough.”

Momcontinuesunfazed.“WecanregisterateHarmony,gotosinglesdances—”

“You’renotdating!”

“—speeddating.It’llbefun!Mike,yougetnosayonthis,soshutit.”

Dad’sfaceisbrightred.“You’re.Not.Dating.”

“Mom.”Lucky,thepeacekeeping,bomb-detonatingmiddlechild,givesitashot.“Mom,can’tyou
giveDadanotherchance?”

“I’vegivenyourfatherfour‘anotherchances,’”shesays,glaringatLucky.“Helovesthatfirehouse
morethanhelovesme.”

“That’sjuststupid,”myfatherbarks,waddinguphisnapkin.

“Yes,itisstupid!”mymothersnaps.“That’smypointentirely!”

“You’reanidiot,woman!We’renotdiscussingthis!You’renotdating!”Hestormsout,steppingover
mydog,andslamsthebackdoor.Asecondlater,wehearhiscarstart.

SarahandTaraarestaringateachother.Asifoncue,theybothturntomymother.“Webrought
dessert!”theychorus.

“S

O

,M

OM,AREYOUSERIOUS

aboutthis?”Iasklaterwheneveryoneelsehasgone.Thehouseisquiet,

whileoutsidethebirdscalltoeachotherasthesunsetsoverthemountains.Mydog’shugeheadrests
onmymother ’sfootasifinsolidarity.

Shesighs.“Iknowyouloveyourfatherbest,Chastity—”shebegins.

“Untrue,”Iresponddutifully.

“—butIdon’twanttospendtherestofmylifealonelikethis.”

“Hewillretire,Mom.He’llhaveto.Aren’tthereunionrulesorsomething?Imean,he’sfifty-nine
yearsold,right?”

“Fifty-eight,”Momsays.“He’llretirewheneverhefeelslikeit,honey.Sixyears?Seven?Ten?AmI
supposedtositaroundwaiting?Forthirty-nineyears,I’veputupwithit!It’smyturntodecideathing
ortwoaboutourlife,andhewon’tacceptthat,andit’snotfair.”Shesettlesbackinherchair.“SoI’m
findingsomeoneelse.”

“Don’tyoustilllovehim,Mom?”

“OfcourseIdo,”shesays.“That’snotthepoint.It’sthatIwantsomeonewhowillputmefirst,and
honestly,yourfatherhasneverdonethat.Hewasn’tabadhusband,butheneverputmefirst.”Her
toneisthatofaprofessorannouncinghistoricalfacts.Inodandpickatthesoleofmyhikingboot.
Whoknows?MaybeherplanwillworkandalittlejealousywillgetDad’sattentionatlast.Sheloves
him.Shedoesn’twantanyoneelse,notreally.

“We’llhavefun,honey,”Momproclaims.“I’vealreadysignedusupforsinglesgroceryshopping!
Doesn’tthatsoundfun?”

“Um,no,”Ianswer.

“Oh,comeon!Youhaven’teventriedityet!It’sfun!”

“Haveyougone?”Iask.

“No,buthowcansinglesgroceryshoppingnotbefun?”Shecontinuestodescribetheanticipatory
thrillofexaminingproducewithothermate-seekingindividuals.Igrimaceandletmyheadfallback
againstthearmofthechair.

Thetruthis,I’llgo.Idon’thavetimetowaste,doI?Icanfeelmyovariessighinginimpatience…
We’restillfunctioning.Fornow,atleast…Theblurrymemoryofthesluttywaitresspopsupinmy
mind.IhavenodesiretowatchTrevorrakeinthefemalesasIsitaroundsingleandchildless,staring
atmyemptyringfinger.

AndsoImakeapactwiththedevil,orinthiscase,mymommy.We’lltryittogether.Whynot?What
haveIgottolose?

CHAPTERTHREE

B

ECAUSE

I’

VEBEGUNMYSTORY

onthenightwhenIwasdumpedandhadawomanhitonme,I

might’vegiventheimpressionthatIdon’thaveanymaleadmirers.Ido…justnotthemalesIwant.

Caseinpoint—AlanoftheGrayTooth,managingeditoratEatonFallsGazette,whereIhavejust
shownupformyfirstofficialdayofwork.Alas,AlanandIarealoneintheGazette“officesuite,”
whichisreallyjustabigroomdividedintograyburlapcubicles,aconferenceroomandacramped
officeforourboss.

“Ireallyhopeyou’lllikeithere,”saysAlan(5'8"andthisiswithchunky-heeledDocMartens),
grinning.LikeJudasattheLastSupper,thegraytoothismalignantlyoutofplace,sittingominously
inthemiddleofanotherwiseunremarkablerowofnormalteeth.Itrytolookawayfromit,butit’s
weirdlycompelling.Alanraisesaneyebrow.Eech.

“Sure.Yeah,I’m,uh,I’msureIwill.Thanks.”

“Maybewecangettogetherfordrinkslateronattheoldwateringholewhereusjournalistsliketo
hangout.”

Thatshouldbe“wherewejournalistsliketohangout,”Al,oldbuddy.“I’m…Idon’t…”Ican’thear
properly.TheToothhastakencontrolofme.

“Drinksitis,then,”Alansays.“Awesome.”

Jesus.Howdidthatthinggetsogray?Doesn’tAlanknowhisowntoothisrottingawayinhismouth?
Shouldn’titbepulled?Itcertainlyshouldbecapped.AsAlantalks,thegraytoothblinksdarkly,
Alan’snarrowlipsmovingaroundthewordsthatI’mignoring,fascinatedbytheevilpowerofThe
Tooth.LikeTolkien’sRing,ithasahypnotic,undeniablepower.Onetoothtorulethem,onetoothto
findthem,onetoothtobringthemall,andinthedarknessbitethem.

Ishudder,thenstraightenafewbooksonmydesk.“Ishouldgetorganized,”IsaytoAlanwithwhatI
hopeisanapologeticsmileandnotahorrifiedgrimace.

“So.Sixo’clock?”TheToothasks.

Yes,Master.“Excuseme?”IrealizeIsoundlikeanidiot,butreally,someoneshouldtellhim.Itdawns
withsuddenhorrorthathe’sjustaskedmeoutonadate.“No!No,sorry.Ican’t.Something…some
otherthinggoingon.”Iflushwiththelie,butAlandoesn’tseemtocare.

“That’sokay.HowaboutFriday?”

“Youknowwhat?”Iblurt.“Idon’tdatecoworkers.Sorry.”There.Greatexcuse.Nohurtfeelings,
right?Alandoesn’tseemlikeabadguy.Justphysicallyrepulsiveonmanylevels.Oh,no,it’snotjust
TheTooth.There’sapaunchthatdroopsoverhisbelt…themusty,grandmother ’s-bedroomsmellthat
floatsaroundhiminageriatriccloud,theDonaldTrumpiancomb-over…butlordingoverthemall,
yes,TheTooth.

“No,no,notadate.Justtwofellowjournalistshavingafewdrinks.”HiswordsarelostasIagainfind
myselfgazingintohismouth,swallowingsicklyasthesinisterpowerofTheToothoozestowardme.
PerhapsIcanfakeimpendingstomachdistress.IfIdon’tlookawaysoon,Iwon’thavetofake
anything.

“So.Thatworksforyou,then?”TheToothasks.

“Youknow,Alan,IthinkIatesomethingthatwasoffthismorning,”Ibegin.

“IhavesomeImodiumonme,”heoffersimmediately,gropingbehindthepocketguardonhisbreast
pocket.

Luckily(ornot),Luciaburststhroughthedoorbalancingaboxofdoughnutsinonehand,several
newspapersandcoffeesintheother.“Goodmorning!”shetrills,thenlurchestoahaltinfrontofmy
desk.“Oh.Chastity.That’sright.It’syourfirstday.”Hernosetwitches.“Wehaveameetingevery
MondayandWednesday.Tenminutes.Haveyourideasready.”

“Nicetoseeyouagain,”Isay,raisinganeyebrow.LuciaisthereceptionisthereattheEatonFalls
Gazetteandhasworkedheresinceshewaseighteen—thatis,abouthalfherlife.Penelope,theowner
andpublisheroftheEFGconfidedthatLuciaappliedformyjobandwasdeeplywoundedwhenshe
didn’tgetit.

SpeakingofPenelope,shewobblesthroughthedoor.“Morning,”shesighs.“Chastity,canIseeyou
inmyofficefirstthing?”

“Sure,Penelope,”Isay,rising.Luciashootsmeaglareandsniffsloudly,hereyesrunning
contemptuouslyupanddownmyform.Doingmybesttoignoreher,IgointoPenelope’sofficeand
closethedoor.

“So,welcome,ofcourse.It’sgreattohaveyouhere.Listen,Chastity,doyouknowanythingabout
skincancer?”Sheyanksdownthecollarofhersweater.“Lookatthismole.Isitchangingcolor?I
thinkitlookscancerous.”

“Well,Ireallydon’t…”

“Doyou?Thinkitlookscancerous?”

Isquintatherneck.“Idon’treallyknowwhatitlookedlikebefore,so…”

“Doesn’titlookcancerous,though?”

“Iwouldn’tknow.Maybeyou’dfeelbetterifyourdoctortookalook,”Isuggest.

Shesitswithathudinherchair.“You’reright.You’reright.Sorry.Iwasupallnight,lookingat
picturesontheInternet,”shesays.“Melanoma.com.Veryugly.”

“Sorry.”

“It’sokay.Welcome!WelcometotheEatonFallsGazette.DidLuciagiveyouahardtime?”She

smilesandsitsupstraight.

“Notreally.”Ismileback.

“Allreadyforthemeeting?”sheasksbrightly.

“Absolutely.I’mreallygladtobehere,Pen,”Isay.

“We’regladtohaveyou.”Shesmiles.

IreallyamrelievedtobeawayfromtheurbanheartbreakofNewark.Here,I’llcoversoftnewsand
features:newstoresopening,theprincipalretiring,thedaffodilsinMemorialPark.Alanwill
continuetocovertheharderstuff:cityhallpolitics,regionalaffairs,etcetera.

Tenminuteslater,we’reallassembledinthesmallconferenceroom.ThestaffconsistsofPenelope,
Alan,Lucia,Carl,ourheadphotographer,andAngelaDavies,thefoodeditor.Suki,apart-time
reporter,coversthestoriesthatAlanandIwon’tbeabletogetto.Petehandlesadvertising,and
Danielledoesthelayout.That’sit.It’ssuchachangefromthelegionswhoworkedinNewark,so
cozy,almost.

“So!”Penelopechirps,fingeringhermole.“Whathaveyougotforme?”

Alangoesfirst,outliningthestorieshebelieveswillbetopnewsthisweek,rulingoutfires,murders
andterroristattacks.He’stiedintoafewnationalstoriesandwilltrytoputalocalspinonthem—a
formerresidenthasbeenconnectedwiththeMobinFlorida,theeffectofgaspricesonsummer
rentalsintheAdirondacks.Hetalksabouttheendlessconstructiontoreplacethewaterlinesallalong
MainStreet.Thenthere’stheongoinginvestigationofourstaterepresentative,whoseemstohave
(gasp!)takenillegalcampaigncontributions.Asidefromhistoothandhisinabilitytotakeahint,he
seemsquitecompetent.

Thenit’smyturn.“Okay,”Ibegin.“I’djustliketosayhowhappyIamtobeh—”

“Ihadagreatideaforastory,”Luciainterrupts,turningatreaclegazeonPenelope.“Awomanin
Pottersvilleknittedthefourth-largestscarfintheworld.Ithoughtitcouldbeawonderfulstory,about
whatkindofyarnsheused,herpattern,herplansforthescarf,herinspiration!Ourreaderswould
loveit!”Sheglaresatme,hopingI’lldisagree.

“Idisagree,”Isay.Penelopecoversasmile.“I’dliketoseetheGazetteconcentrateonstorieswitha
littlemoresubstance.”

Myshotacrossthebowisreceivedwithvenom.

“Well,maybeyouneedtounderstandwhatourreaderslike,Chastity!”Luciasnipes.“Youjustgot
here—”

“Igrewuphere,”Iinterject.

“—andyoumightbesurprisedathowdown-homeypeoplehereare.Right,Penelope?”

Penelope’ssmiledrops,andsherubshermoleharder.“Um…well,youhaveapoint,Lu,butIthink
we’llseehowChastitydoes.It’swhywehiredher.Lotsofexperience.”

“ButnotinFeatures!”Luciaprotests.“Featuresis—”

“Master ’sinjournalismfromColumbia.Veryimpressive,”Pensmiles.Iacknowledgemystellar
educationwithamodestnod.WhereIwenttoschooldoesn’tmatter.Luciawillhatemeregardless.
PenelopewarnedmeaboutLuciaatmyinterviewlunch.ShesaidthatIwasbyfarthemostqualified
candidatethey’dhad,andthatLuciawouldbefightingmad.Penwentontoconfideoverherthird
glassofwinethatshe’doncemadethemistakeoflettingLuciawriteafeaturesarticle.Thiswaswell
beforemytime,anditneveractuallyranbutPenelopeshowedmethepiece…tenthousandwords,a
novella,really,onMrs.Kent,whowonfirstprizeatthecountyfairforherGermanchocolatecake.

“Featureswithsubstance.Ilikethat.”Alanliftsaneyebrowsuggestively,hislipraisingenoughfor
metogetaglimpseofTheTooth.Ilookaway.

“Whatelsehaveyougot?”Penelopeasks.

Lucia’sruby-redlowerlipsticksoutobstinatelyasIcontinue.“Weneedtofocusonhyperlocal
stories,”Isay.“PapersallacrossAmericaarewatchingsubscriptionsfall.Peoplecangetnews
anywhere—CNN,Internet,evenontheirphones—sowehavetoofferEatonFallsreadersstoriesthey
can’tgetanywhereelse.Ithinkpeoplewanttoreadmorethancutesyfeaturesorstuffpulledoffthe
APwire.Andofcourse,allofthiswillbeontheWebsite,too,whichI’llbebeefingupconsiderably.”

Luciasnorts.

Ismileather,whichmakesherscowlevenmore.“Iknow,Lucia,”Isay,hopingtoplacateher.“It’sa
paperfirstandforemost.Butifpeoplearen’treadingit,thenlet’sgetthemtogotoourWebsite,
whichissponsoredbyouradvertisers.Itonlymakesfiscalsense.”

“Great,Chastity,”Penelopesays.“Thisiswhywehiredyou.”

“Obviously,wehavetodoapieceontheResurrectionforEaster,”Luciaannounces,notplacated.

“Maybeapieceonthetownegghuntandsomelocaltraditions,butno,we’renotdoingastoryonthe
Resurrection.That’snotnews,Lucia,”Istatefirmly.“Thathappenedalmosttwothousandyearsago.”

Lucia’smouthdropsopen.“Penelope!”sheprotests.“Shecan’t—”

“I’mgoingtodefertoChastityhere,Lu,”thebosssays,lovinglystrokinghermole.“Let’smoveon.
Angela?”

Angela,asoft-spoken,gentle-facedwomanaboutmyage,hasbeensittingsilentlythroughoutthe
discussion.“Well,”shesaysinanear-whisper,adjustingherglasses,“Callahan’sisopening
tomorrow,soI’llreviewthat.I’mdoinglow-fatEasterfavoritesfornextweekend.Thenutritious
school-snackscolumnisfeaturing…”

ItrytopayattentionasAngeladetailstheasparagusbisquerecipeshehopeswilldazzleourreaders.
ThoughI’mnotmuchofacook,Idolovetoeat,andallthistalkoffoodismakingmehungry.And

whileAngelacarriesthetitleoffoodeditor,shewillanswertome,andherrecipesandadvicewill
giveourreadersanotherreasontocheckoutourfoodWebpage,whichcancarrymoreinformation
thantheThursdayeditionofthepaper.

Afterourmeetingisdone,IgettoworkcallingthefreelancerstheEFGuses,introducingmyself,
checkingthetowncalendarforeventsIshouldgoto,chattinguptheniceladyatthechamberof
commerce.Ieditapieceforournextedition,then,glancingatmywatch,decideIhavetimetoextend
theoldolivebranch.

Igrabmybackpack,checkmycellphoneandgoovertoLucia’sdesk,wheresheisbusyfiling.“I
hearyou’reengaged,Lucia.”It’smypeaceoffering,anditworks.

Sheismorethanhappytorantandraveaboutthestressesofbeingengagedforthenexttenminutes.
“Soanyway,ItoldthefloristthatIdidn’tcarewhatwasinseason!Teddy—myfiancé?—Icallhim
TeddyBear,isn’tthatcute?Anyway,helovessweetpea.Hejustlovesit!Ihavetohavesweetpea!He
wanteditmixedinwithbaby’sbreath?Sobeautiful!Intheselittlebowls?Andcandles?Andherewas
thisstupidflorist,tellingmeIcouldn’thavesweetpea?Idon’tthinkso!”

Iforceasmile,nodandglanceatmywatch,wonderingifallbridesarethispsycho,andifallgrooms
areinvestedincenterpiecesasTed.Soundslike…well.I’mtheonewhowasmistakenforalesbian,so
whatdoIknow?

“Well,I’dlovetohearmore,butI’mdoinganinterview.Shouldbebackbeforefive,okay?”

“Fine,”shesnaps.Apparently,itwilltakemorethanafeignedinterestinherweddingforusto
becomefriends.

It’salovely,warmday.Thepalegreenleavesarejustaboutedible,andIstopforamomenttolookto
thehillsaswell,asmilecomingtomyface.Mostofthebuildingsofthedowntownareawerebuiltat
theturnofthelastcenturyandexhibitagraceandattentiontodetailthatwouldbeconsideredtoo
costlyforadesigntoday.Brickorlimestone,mostareonlyfourorfivestoriestall,withallsortsof
cunningdetailandgiltpainting.Littlealleysrunoffthemainstreetliketributariesoffariver,anda
waveofaffectionwashesoverme.IloveEatonFalls.Ilovebeingajournalist.I’msogladtobeback.
Thisisanewphaseofmylife,andI’mdetermineditwillbeagoodone.Trueadulthood.Ahome,a
dogandsoon,hopefully,aboyfriend/fiancé/hubby/fatherofmystrongandattractivechildren.

Iwalkthethreeblockstothenewtoystore,convenientlylocatednexttoHudsonRoasters.Ipopinto
thecoffeeshop,ordertwotalllattesand,asmystomachgrowls,acheesedanish,thentakemybags
nextdoortoMarmaladeSky.

“Hello,”Icall,pushingopenthedoor.It’sverycuteinside.Toys…well,obviously…puzzles,Legos,
stuffedanimals,allinacheerful,crowdedatmosphere.“Kim?It’sChastityO’NeillfromtheGazette.”

Aheavysetyoungwomanwearingabrowndenimjumpercomesoutofadoortowardtheback.“I’m
KimRobison.It’ssoniceofyoutocome!”

Kim’sinterviewhadbeenscheduledbymypredecessor,andI’ddecidedtotakeitmyself.Hertoy
storeopeningisjustthesortofsoftnewsthatI’vebeenlookingforwardtocovering,afarcryfrom

theurbanheartbreakofNewarkthatI’dbeenimmersedinforthepastfiveyears.

“Ibroughtyoualatte,”Isay,holdingoutthecup.

“Oh,you’resonice,”shesmiles.“Sorry,though.Ican’thaveany.”

Probablyoneofthosegreen-teatypes,Iguess,judgingbyherrathercrunchylook.Kiminvitesmeto
sitinthereadingareaattheback,surroundedbyglossypicturebooks,classicPoohfigures,anda
mobileshapedlikeashipwithrainbowsails.Itakeoutmynotebook.“So,Kim,howdidyoucomeup
withthenameMarmaladeSky?”Iask.

“It’sfromtheBeatles’song.”Shesmiles,shiftinginherchair.

Ipause.“TheLSDsong?”

“No,”sheanswers.“‘LucyintheSkywithDiamonds.’”

Ipause.“Uh…that’stheLSDsong.”

Herfacefalls.“Oh,no,”shesays.Shethinksforamoment.“Oh,forGod’ssake.Ofcourseit’sthe
LSDsong.”

Ilaugh.“Don’tworry.Iwon’tputitinthearticle.Okay,nextquestion.Whendidyoubecomeinspired
toownatoystore?”

“Iguesswhenmysisterhadherfirstbaby,”Kimsays.Shetalksaboutherloveofchildrenandtheir
vastimaginations.Ismileandnodasshetalks,sometimesmentioningoneofmyeightniecesand
nephews.Kimsmilesoften,herplumpapplecheeksbunchingattractivelyasherglossyhairswings.
“See,Chastity,”shesays,leaningforward,“whenyougiveachildtherighttoy,you’regivingthem
hoursoffunandcreativityandimagination,almostgivingthemthekeyto…theirown…”

“Totheirownworld?”Isuggest,scribblingaway.Shedoesn’tanswer.Ilookup.

Kimrisesawkwardlyoutofherchairandstaresdownatheramplestomach.“Ithinkmywaterjust
broke.”

Myheadjerksback,andmystomachdropsasifI’montheexpresselevatorintheEmpireState
Building.“You’re—you’repregnant?”Notheavyset.Notchubbyorplump.Pregnant.Crap.Some
journalistImake.

“Yeah,I’m…ooh!Yes,that’swaterbreaking.”Sheliftsthehemofherlongdressandexaminesher
ankle.“Oh!Oh,boy.Yup,it’sstarted.”

Inresponsetothosewords,myownwaterbreaks—sweat.Iamsuddenlydrenchedinsweat,fromthe
solesofmyfeetrighttomyscalp.BecauseevenifI’veneverseenababyborn,Iknowhowitgoes.
Pain.Screaming.Blood.Gore.“Uh-oh,”Ichokeout.Mythroatslamsshut,andIcan’tseemto
breathe.Iraiseashakinghandtopushmyhairoffmyface,picturesofbloodyafterbirthflashing
throughmymind.

“Um…canyou…canyoujustcallmyhusbandforme?”Kimsinksbackintothechair,takesadeep
breathandrubsherabdomen.

“Areyou…um…areyou…”Thereisawaterystripeofbloodonherbareankle.Don’tlook.Toolate.
Don’tlookagain.Stoplooking.“You’rebleeding,”Isayinahoarsewhisper,tearingmygazeoffher
ankleandpointinginthevaguedirectionofherfoot.

Kimglancesatherankle.“Oh,theysaythat’snormal.”

Iswallowrepeatedly.“Oh.”

“Doyoumind?”

“What?DoImindwhat?”There’sabuzzinginmyears,andKimsoundsveryfaraway.Staywithit,
Chastity!Sheneedshelp!

“Canyoucallmyhusband?He’snumberoneonspeeddial.Mycellphoneisinmybagbehindthe
counter.”Shebreathesindeeplyandexhaleswithalongshushingsound,rocksbackinherchair.

Iforcemyselftostand,thoughmykneesarebuckling.Howcantheybucklejustbecauseofalittlebl
—redstuff?Icanrunfivemileswithoutbreakingasweat!Ilurchovertothecounter,fumbleforher
baganddumpitout.Keys,wallet,sunglasses,tissues…“Ican’tfindit!”Icall,myvoicerough.Iorder
myselftostaycalm.Myselfdoesn’tlisten.Thepanicisrisinglikeicywater,andIdoinfactfeelclose
todrowning,mybreathcominginlaboredgasps.“Yourphone!Where’syourphone?Ican’tfindthe
phone!”

“It’srightinthe…oh,man…”Shetakesadeepbreath,thenreleasesitslowly.“Ooh!Acontraction!
It’sinthesidepocket.”

“Sidepocket,sidepocket,sidepocket.”Icanhearmyselfdistantly.Easy,Chastity,easy…breathe,
breathe,breathe.Ican’tfaint.Iwantto,apparently,butIcan’t.Ihavetohelpthislady.Whatifthat
bloodmeanssomethingbad?Someonewillhavetohelpher.Someonelikeme,forexample,since
I’mtheonlypersonhere.Renewedterrorzipsthroughmyveins.Ican’tgetenoughairandI’mhot
andcoldatthesametimeandshakinglikealeafinahurricane.“Areyousurebloodisnormal?”I
squeak.

KimstraightensupinherchairtolookatmeasIriflethroughherbag.“It’sokay,”sheassuresme.
“Thebloodisjustfrommycervixdilating.Perfectlynatural.”Shetakesadeepbreathandletsitout
slowly,thensmilesatme.“Theysayitwilltakealongtime,evenfromwhenyourwaterbreaks.The
babywon’tcomeforhours.Maybenotevenuntiltomorrow.”

Theysay.Whothehellarethey,andwhatdotheyknow?AndwhyisKimsocalm?Isn’tsheworried
aboutherownchild?Iwouldbe!Babiesareborninfreakyplacesallthetime!Iwouldn’twantmy
babytobebornonthesidewalkorbackseatofacaboronsomecarnivalrideorinatoystore!

Thephone!“Ifoundit!”Iannounce,butitslipsfrommysweatyhandsandskittersawayonthewood
floor.Ipounceonit,snatchitupandstareattheconsole.Howisanyonesupposedtomakean
emergencycallonbuttonsthatareableepingmillimeterwide?Carefully,asKiminhalesandexhales

inthebackground,Ipunchin911withaviolentlyshakingfingerandwaitforthedispatcher ’svoice.

“911emergency,howcan—”

“Awomanishavingababy!”Ibark.“Ababy!Rightnow!”

“Isthatmyhusband?”Kimasks.

“Whereareyou,ma’am?”thedispatcherasks.

“Um,uh,we’reum,let’sseenow,um,thenewtoystore?InEatonFalls?Onum,let’ssee,Ridge
Street?Nexttothecoffeeplace,abouteightblocksfromthefirehouse,okay?Sosendthem,okay?
Theyhaveanambulanceandeverything!Aretheyontheirwayyet?Idon’tseeanybody.Whereare
they?Whyaren’ttheycoming?”

“That’snotmyhusband,isit?”Kimdemandsinthebackground.“Didyoucall911?Whatdidyoudo
thatfor?”

“Becauseyou’rehavingababyandIcan’tdeliverit!”Iyell.

“EatonFallsFireisontheirway,”thedispatchersays.“Wouldyouliketostayonthephoneuntilthey
arrive?”

“Yes!Yes!Don’thanguponme!Don’tleaveme.”

MychestisheavingasItrytosuckinenoughair,butIstaggerovertoKim,whoislookingatme
disapprovinglyoverherstomach.“Don’tpush,”Itellher.“They’recoming.Donotpush.Doyou
wantmetogetsometowels?Howaboutthatcoffee,huh?There’sadanish,too,butIwasgoingtoeat
that.Butyoucanhaveit!Sure!Wantthedanish?Justdon’tpush.I’mnotgoodatthissortofthing.”

“Really?”shesays,andisthatabitofsarcasm?Duringlabor?Howcanshebesocalm?“CanIhave
myphone,please?”

I’mstillpressingthephoneagainstmyear,hardenoughforittohurt.“Ma’am?”thedispatchersays.
“What’sthesituation?”

Sirensgooffdownthestreet.“Finally!”Ishout.“Oh,God,hurry.Don’tworry,Kim,don’tworry,
they’recoming.”

Kimstandsup—surprisingforawomanabouttogivebirth—andpriesthephoneoutofmyhand.My
waterykneesfinallygiveout,andIsinktothefloorwithaheavythud,gasping.WinniethePooh
looksonunblinkingly,andEeyorefrownswiththeexpecteddisapproval.

“Hi,”Kimsaysintoheritsy-bitsycellphone.“Thisisthepregnantwoman.I’mfine…No,youdon’t
needtosendthem…mywaterbroke,butI’m…oh,okay.Sure,fine.Thankyou.”Shehangsup.“Ijust
wantedyoutocallmyhusband,”shetellsme,accusationheavyinhertone.

Frommyplaceonthefloor,Ihaveanall-too-clearviewofthesmearofbloodonherankle.Please
letthebabybeokay,Ipraydistantly.Please,God.Myearsareroaring,blackholesareappearingin

frontofme,andIcan’tgetenoughair.Iinhaledesperately,butmyvisionisfading.Itipmyhead
betweenmykneesandtrytobreathe.

Ihearthebelloverthefrontdoortinkle,andlookuptoseefourmentroopingintothestoresingle
file,carryingbagsofgear.Dad,Trevor,PaulandJake,turnoutgearon,reflectiveletterscatchingthe
light.ThankGod.TheguyslurchtoastopwhentheyseeKimstandingcalmlyoverme,herhandson
herhips.“Hi,”shesays.“Mywaterbroke.Ididn’tactuallymeanforthefiredepartmenttocome.”

Myfatherlooksdownatme.“Getsomeoxygen,okay,Paul?”hesays.

“Idon’tneedany,”Kimsaysfirmly.

“It’snotforyou.”Trevorsmiles.“Howfaralongareyou?”

“I’mduetomorrow,”shesays.“Thisismyfirstbaby,andtheysaiditwilltakeawhile.I’mreally
fine.”

Theyareallstandingaround,lookingatme.Paulcomesbackandkneelsnexttome.“Slowdown,
kid,”hesays.Iforcemyselftoobey,managingafewnormalishbreathsbeforeheslipsamaskover
mymouth.Ibreatheingratefully,feelingtheslightrushofonehundredpercentoxygen.

“Oops,here’sacontraction,”Kimsays,breathingdeeplyandexhaling.

“Wouldyouliketositdown?”Trevoroffers.

“No,no,Icanstandthroughit…there.It’sgone.”

“You’reachamp,”myfathertellsher.“Mywifehadfivekids.Naturalchildbirthforeveryoneof
them.You’lldogreat.”

Thanks,Dad.AndKim!Can’tshehamitupalittleformysake?Standingthroughcontractions—
show-off.NowthatI’mnolongerhyperventilating,mycheeksstarttoburn.Crap.It’shappenedagain.

“Youokay,hon?”Dadasksme.

Idon’tbothertoanswer.

“We’dbehappytotakeyoutothehospital,”TrevoroffersKim.

“Myhusbandworksattheschool,”shesays.“I’lljustgivehimacallandhecancomegetme.But
thankyou.”Shedialsherhusband’snumberandspeakssoftlyintothephone.

Dadradiosbacktodispatch.PaulpicksupaLegosmodel.“Ithinkmysonhasthisone,”hemurmurs,
turningitover.“Yup.StarWarsDestroyer.Rememberthisone,guys?”Heholdsupthebox.

“Ilovethatmovie,”Jakesaysdreamily.“‘MaytheForcebewithyou…always.’Socool.”

Dadasksthewomanaboutnamechoices,PaulopensacopyofTheMiraculousJourneyofEdward
Tulane.Isuckoxygen.Threeminuteslater,thehusbandarrivesandgentlyescortshiswifetotheir

car.“Thanks!”shecalls,smiling.“Justturnthelockinthedoorknobbeforeyouleave,okay?”Iwave
feebly.

Trevorkneelsbesidemeandtakesmypulse.“How’sourlittlemidwife?”heasks,mouthtwitching.

MaybeI’dlaugh,too,ifIdidn’tfeellikesuchanass.MaybeI’dfeelsmallandcherishedifIweren’t
twocentimetersshortofsixfeetanddidn’tweighinwellpastahundredandfiftypounds.Iinhale
deeplyoncemore.“Chastity?”Trevorasks.“Youokay?”

Isigh,causingthemasktofog,thenreluctantlytakeitoff.“Fine.”

Helooksupfromhiswatch.“Heartrate’sdowntonormal.Doyoustillfeellightheaded?”

“I’mfine,Trevor!Youknowhowitis.Anirrationalfearofaharmlessobjectorsituationresultingin
physicalresponsesuchashyperventilation,fainting,acceleratedpulse,blahblahbleepingblah.”

“Justasking.Anynumbnessortinglinginyourarmsorlegs?Chestpain?”

“No.”Isoundlikeasullenfour-year-old.Trevorsmilesandkeepslookingatme.

“How’smygirl?”Dadasks,squattinginfrontofme.“Needaridehome,Porkchop?”

“No,Dad.I’lljust…I’lljustgobacktowork.”

Dadstandsup.“Okay,guys.Let’spackitin.”PaultakestheoxygentankawayandImovetostandup,
mylegsstillshaking.Trevoffershishand.Iignoreitandhaulmyselftomyfeetsolo.

“Seeyoulater,sweetie,”Dadsays.Hesmilesalittle,patsmyshoulder.

“Bye,Chastity,”Trevorsayswithagrinthatcurlsaroundmyinsides.Ishovethewarmthaway.

“Thanks,guys,”Ianswer.“Sorrytowasteyourtime.”

“BeatswatchingTheTyraBanksShow,”Paulsays.

“Youthink?”Jakereturns.Theguyslaughandwalkout,andafewminuteslater,they’redrivingoff
downtheroad,lightsoff,sirensquiet.Fightingfeelingsofembarrassment,humiliation,mortification
andgeneralstupidity,Isigh,turnthelockinthedoorknobandclosethedoorbehindme.

CHAPTERFOUR

W

HEN

I

WASINSIXTHGRADE

,ElainaandherfamilymovedtoEatonFalls,andiftherewasevera

biggerchiponashoulder,I’dneverseenit.Fascinatedbytheattitude,theslightaccentandtheinchof
makeuponheradolescentface,IdecidedinstantlythatImusthaveherasafriend.“Hi,”I’dbreathed
atrecessthatfirstdayasshesatonabenchattheedgeoftheblacktop.

“Whachoowant,townie?”sheasked,flippingherhairbackindeliciouscontempt.

“Icandoahundredchin-ups,”Ioffered.

“Sodoit,”sheinstructed,snappingherfingers.Icomplied,wonheradmirationandneverlooked
back.Allthroughhighschool,college,gradschoolandbeyond,ElainahasbeenthereformeandI
forher,andsheremainstheonlylivingcreatureIevertoldaboutTrevor.

Inhighschool,ElainaaskedMarktoourseniorpromandtherestwashistory.Theygotmarriedfour
yearsagoandhadDylantwoyearslater.Elainawastiredandstressed,Markwasstrungevenmore
tightlythanusual,andthingsweretense.Andhowdidmybrotherdealwiththepressuresoffamily
life?Hehadaone-nightstand.Granted,it’samovehedeeplyregrets,whichMarkshowsinhis
typicalemotionallyconstipatedway—lashingoutatthoseheloves.Sufficeittosay,Elainahasn’t
forgivenhim,becausehehasn’tapologized.Andtheyremainataridiculousstandoff—separated,
divorcepending,lovingeachother,hatingeachother,fightingconstantly,bitterlymourningwhat
they’velost.

“Thatfuckingbrotherofyours,”shebeginsonenightaswesitinfrontofmycomputerscreen.I’m
fillingoutanonlinequestionnaire,andElainaiscoachingmeontheanswers.Buttercupsnoresgently
atourfeet.

“Whatnow?”Iaskwithresignation.

“Hesayshewon’tpayforDylan’ssoccercamp.”

“Dylan’stwo,Lainey,”Isay,glancingfromthecomputerscreentoher.Markhashissonthis
weekend,soElainaandIarehere,drinkingchardonnayandregisteringmeone.Commitment,a
humiliating,degradingandshamefullyfunprocess.

“So?Thegreatonesallstartyoung.Don’tsayyestothatone,sweetie.That’satrickquestion.”She
leansforwardtoreaditaloud.“‘Doyoufindavarietyofmenattractive?’See,they’retryingtoseeif
you’reapartygirl,youknow?Group-sexkindofthing.”

“Areyousure?”Shenodswisely.“Okay.I’lljustput‘notapplicable.’How’sthat?AndmaybeDylan
shouldbeoutofdiapersbeforehestartscamp,”Iaddreasonably.

Elainasighs.“Iknow,I’mcrazy.Ijustmentionedittohim,youknow,assomethingDylliemightdo
whenhe’solder,okay?AndMark,he’sall,‘Don’tyouputmysonincampwithoutdiscussingitwith
me!’AndI’mrightbackathim,‘Don’tyoutellmewhattodowithmyson,youmiserablecheating
bastard!’Andweendupscreamingateachotherandhangingup.Youwantanotherglassofwine?

Anddog,getyourbigbonyheadoffthisfoot,orI’mplantingitupyourass.”

“Don’tbemeantomybaby,”Ichastise.“Andyestothewine.”Istretch,rubbingmylowerback,
whichiscrampedfromhunchingoverthekeyboard,thenbendovertopatmypoormaligneddog.
“Youknow,Elaina,apsychiatristmightsaysomethingaboutallthatfightingandscreaming,you
know.”

Shedoesherlittleheadwiggle,somethingItriedforyearstoemulatebeforerealizingmyIrishgenes
lackedtheLatindisdainrequiredtopullitoff.“Andwhat’sthat,know-it-all?”

“Thatyoustilllovehimandthiskindoffightingisawayofhavingapassionaterelationship,evenif
it’snotthekindofpassionyoureallywant.”

“Noshit,Dr.JoyBrowne.I’llgetthewine.”

Igrin,finishstrokingButtercup’sroughredfurandfinishmyprofile.Profile.Soundslikesomething
theFBIhasonme.Youfittheprofilefortheserialkiller,Ms.O’Neill.There’snothingtobeashamed
of,ofcourse;lotsofpeopledoonlinedating,letnostonegounturned,blahblahbleepingblah.But
still.It’shumblingnonetheless,havingtocheckoutaWebsiteformymate.Ineverpicturedturning
thirty,letalonethirty-one,withouthavinganadoringhusbandandacoupleofkids.

Theprofileincludesapersonalitysectionofnofewerthanonehundredandsixquestions,aphysical
description(forty-twoquestions),myidealdate(choosefromtwenty-threeoptions)andanewe-mail
addressandusername.IchoseGirlNextDoor.

e.Commitmentboastslotsoftouching—andpossiblyeventrue—storiesofpeoplemeetingtheirsoul
mateshere.Ipauseforasecond.Maybe—probablynot,butmaybe—thisishowIwillfindTheOne.
ThatTrevor ’simageinstantlyleapstomindisquiteirritating.Iforcehimoutandstickinanother
picture.DerekJeter.Yummy.Well,maybehopingforthebazillionairebaseballgodisalittlebitofa
stretch.Aragorn,onhorseback.Yeah,baby!Okay,okay.Thatalsomaybealittleunrealistic…hm.
Theguyattherestauranttheothernight.There!Mr.NewYorkTimes,sure.JustasappealingasTrevor.
Justasattractive.Let’salsoassumehe’skindhearted.Anddecent.Also,funny.Strong,yetvulnerable.
Quiet,yetexpressive.Sensitive,yetstoic.

Elainareturnstothetinystudythat’sjustoffthelivingroom.Matt’sworkingtonight,sowehavethe
housetoourselves.“Thishouseisfantastic,sweetie,”shesays,handingmemyglass.

“Iknow.Iloveit,”Ianswer.“I’mthinkingofpaintingthisroomyellow,whatdoyouthink?”Elaina
hasagreatflareforcolors.

“Perfect.Youdonefillingthatthingout?”sheasks,tappingalongfingernailagainstherwineglass.

“Yes.Notthatthisisgoingtopanout,Elaina.”Buttercupgroansasifagreeing.

“Howdoyouknow?It’sbetterthanyoumooning—”

“I’mnotmooninganyone.Phone’sringing!”Saved.Isnatchupthephone.“Hello?”

“Hello,Chastity,thisisyourmotherspeaking.”Hertraditionalgreeting.“Didyoufilloutyour

form?”Mom’stheonewhotoldmee.Commitmentwasrankedhigherthantheotherdatingsites,after
herexhaustive,fifteen-minutesearchontheWeb.“Also,I’mtakingFrench.Yourfatherisvery
jealous,barelyspeakingtome.Doyouwanttogetourhaircolorednextweek?”

“Hi,Mom.”IgrimaceandpantomimehangingmyselfforElaina’sbenefit.“Um,yes,great,no
comment,notreally.Anythingelse?”

“Honey!So?Doyouhaveanyhits?YourfatherwentthroughtheroofwhenItoldhimaboutthis.He
saidsomewhackjobwouldstranglemeinunderaweekifthisishowIgoaboutdating.”

“Whatasweetthought.Ijustfinishedfillingouttheform,Mom.Elaina’shere.We’rehaving—”

“So?Checkyoure-mail!Maybeyouhavesomeonealready!”

Icoverthemouthpiecewithmythumb.“She’sonamphetamines,itseems.Youtalktoher.”

“Hi,Mamí,”Elainasays,winningtenthousandbrowniepointsforcallinghermother-in-lawthat
particularmoniker.Elainaisreveredbymymother—Elaina’squirksbeingfoundsimplycharming
whilethoseofherownoffspringarecausefortormentanddismay.Theychatmerrily,laughing
away.Dutifully,Icheckmye-mail,andwhattomywonderingeyesshouldappearbutamessage!
Holycrap!

“Igotone,”Iannouncewithpride.Buttercup’sthintaillashesmyshin.

“Shegotone,”Elainatranslates.“Oh,sure,Mamí.Heresheis.”Shepassesmethephoneandtakesa
handfulofDoritosfromthebowlIsothoughtfullyputout.

“Yes?”Isay.

“So?”

“Sowhat,Mom?”

“Soreadthedamnthing!Youonlygotone,right?”

“Um,well,Ijustfinishedmyprofileaboutfiveminutesago.”ItakesomeDoritos,too.“Whendid
youdoyours?”

“Good!Ifinishedmineahalfhourago.”

“Great.Anddoyouhaveanyhits?”Iask.

“Well…um,yes,Ido.”

Icantellbyhertone,whichhasbecomesuspiciouslygentleandkind,thatshe’shidingsomething.
“Howmany?”Igrowl.

“Well…morethanone.Don’ttakeitpersonally,Chastity.I’msureyou’llhavetwenty-threepretty
soon,too.”

“Youhavetwenty-threehits,Mom?”Buttercupgrowlsinhersleep.

“Holyshit!”Elainaexclaims.“Letmehavethephone!Mamí,areyoukiddingme?Oh,myGod,you
know?Thatissogreat!Anykeepers?”

Whilethey’retalking,Ilookatmymessage,blandlyentitled“hi.”Whatthehell.Iclickonit.

DearGirlNextDoor,

Ireallylikedyourprofile.Itseemslikewehavealotofintereststhatarethesame.Checkoutmy
profile,andifyou’reinterested,dropmealine.

—husbandmaterial.

Well,thenameispromising,anyway.

“You’rejoking!”Elainasqueals.“Chastity,yourmotherhasfourdateslinedupalready!Canyou
believeit?”

“Ican’tbelieveit,”Imumble.Iclickonhusbandmaterial’sprofileasinstructed,glancingimpatiently
throughthelistofattributes.Attractiveness—he’sgivenhimselfasix-point-fiveoutoften…Iwonder
whatthatwilltranslateto.Gollum?FreddyKruger?JasonoftheFreckledLegs?Well,moving
on…Lovesoutdooractivities.Great.Enjoysgoodfood.(Honestly,isthereanyonealivewhodoesn’t?
—Ienjoybadmealsandtheintestinaldistressthatfollows…).Iforgivehimandmoveon.Athletic,
great.Family-oriented,cool.Hesoundsprettygood,actually.

Elainahandsthephonebacktome.“Oh,look,here’sanotherone!”mymothercrowsinmyear.
“‘DearOlderand-Wiser,I’dlovetomeetforcoffee.IliveinThurmanandwouldbehappytocome
intoEatonFallsandseeifyoucanpossiblybeasgreatasyousound!’Oh,Chastity,isn’tthisfun?”

“Oh,yes,”Ilie.

“Igotanotherone!Ican’tbelieveIwaitedthislongtodumpyourfather.Howmanyhaveyougot
now?”shedemands.

Icheckmylisting.“Um,stilljusttheone.”

“Well,honey,don’tworry.Allittakesisone,right?”

Myphonebleatsinmyear.“Mom,Ihaveanothercall.I’llcallyouback,okay?”Ipushthebuttonfor
thenextcall.“Hell—”

“It’syourfather.DidyouknowyourmotherregisteredonsomecrazyWebsite?She’sgoingtoget
herselfkilled!Imeanit,Chastity.Youarenottoencourageher.Oh,gottago.Wejustgotacall.Bye.”

Sighing,Ihangup.“I’mhungry,”ItellElaina.“Shallwemakesomethingfordinner?”

“Bywe,doyoumeanme?”sheasks,preening.

“Yes,Elaina.Wouldyoucaretowhipupsomethingfabulousfromthemeagerofferingsofmy
kitchen?Please?Prettyplease?”

“Sure,baby.I’dloveto.”Sherufflesmyhair,doesaneatleapoverButtercupandsashaysintothe
kitchen.Shedoeslovetocook…incomprehensible,butconvenientforme.

Iglancebackathusbandmaterialanddecidetoe-mailhimback.Rightnow.Whattheheck,right?

Dearhusbandmaterial,

Yousoundreallynice.Tellmemoreaboutyourself.Whatdoyoudoforwork?Doesyourfamilylive
aroundhere?Whatkindofsportsdoyoulike?You’renotaMetsfan,areyou?

IhitSend,pleased.I’lllethimrevealmoreabouthimselfbeforeIdo.I’malittlewaryoverthesix-
point-five,butthisisjustatrialrun.Besides,menhavenoideahowtorankthemselves.Jason,after
all,consideredhimselftooattractiveforme.Irankedmyselfaseven,whichIfeltwasquitehonest.
OnceIgetmyhaircut,Imayupgradetoseven-point-five.

Thephoneringsagain.GlancingatthecallerID,Iseethatit’stheEatonFallsFireDepartment.Must
beDadagain.

“Hi,Daddy,”Isay.

“Hi,Porkchop.”There’sasmileinthevoice,andthevoiceisnotDad’s.

“Trevor?”Ipressahandagainstmysuddenlyhotcheek.Inthekitchen,Elainaissinging.

“Hi.Sorry.Yes,it’sTrevor.Howareyou?”

“I’mfine.”IsitpossiblethatI,whoholdamaster ’sfromColumbiaUniversity,canthinkofawittier
response?“Great,Imean.Andyou?”Iclosemyeyes.“Ithoughtyouguyswentoutonacall.”

“Oh,justtheenginewent.I’mtailsontheladderthisweek.”

“Oh.”Anothercaptivatingresponse.

Hepauses.“I’vebeeninstructedbymycaptaintofindoutifMomisreallygoingonadate,”hesays
inalowvoice.Trev’scalledmymother“Mom”sincehewasaboutsixteenyearsold.Andhiscaptain
ismyfather,ofcourse.

“Yeah.Iguesssheis,”Ianswer.Myshouldersdropalittle.Ishouldhaveknownhewouldn’tcallfor
purelysocialreasons.

“It’shardtobelieveshe’sreallylookingforaboyfriend,”Trevorsays.

“Yeah.”

“Well.Okay,Chas.Ibetterrun.Seeyouaround.”

“Okay.Thanksforcalling.Bye.Takecare.”Isoundlikeajerk.

Luckily,mycomputerdingssoftly.Youhaveonenewmessage,GirlNextDoor.Hooray!
Husbandmaterialisback!

DearGND(We’reonnicknamesalready—fantastic),

I’maYankeesfan,nottoworry.Ihaveabigfamily.Asfarassportsandhobbies,Iliketohike,
mountainbike,kayakalittle.Whataboutyou?Hobbies?Pets?Whatmakesyouthegirlnextdoor?

“Dinnerinten,sweetie!”Elainacalls,rattlingsomepans.“Chickenquesadillas!”

“Angelsblessyou,Elaina!Berightthere.Justansweringane-mail.”

Husbandmaterialsounds…well,great.Friendly,kindofsweet.Iimmediatelywriteback.Ialsohavea
bigfamily.Ilikehikingandrowing(singlescull).Havelotsofniecesandnephews.Loveanimals.I
haveabigdogwhoslobbers,andIworshiptheYanks.IhitSendandwait.

Thirtysecondslater,bing!Youhaveonenewmessage,GirlNextDoor.Yippee!Iclickimmediately.

Chastity?

Oh,myGod!Husbandmaterialknowsme!Shit!Orisitgood?Yes?Itypeback.

It’sMatt.

Clappingmyhandovertheshriekoflaughter(orisithorror?)thatburstsforth,Isnatchupthe
phone,dialMatt’scell.“Hello?”hechokes.Icanbarelywheezeback.“You’redisgusting,”hesays.
“Checkingoutyourownbrother.Gross.”

“Youwrotefirst,pervert.”Iwipemyeyesandtrytocontrolmyself,butit’snouse.Welaughin
mutualhorrorforagoodtwominutes.“Youaretotellnooneaboutthis,Matthew.”

“Rightbackatyou,Chastity,”hesays,stilllaughing.

“Ifindithardtobelievethatyouhavetroublemeetingwomen,Matt,”ItellhimwhenI’vecalmed
down.“Oh,andyou’reaten,bytheway.Asixandahalf?Comeon!YoulooklikeMelGibson!”

“Ew.”

“Well,okay,notthedrunken,sun-damagedmugshotMel.Young,wholesomeMel.RoadWarrior
Mel.You’reagood-lookingguy,Mattie.”

“Well,youknow,it’sweirdtofilloutallthatstuff,”hesays.“Idomeetplentyofwomen,butyou
know.Haven’tmettherightone.IfiguredIcouldcutthroughsomecrap.Thissinglething’sgetting
old.Idon’twanttolivewithmysisterfortherestofmylife.Nooffense,Chas.”

“Nonetaken,”Isay.“Well,I’llkeepmyeyeoutforyou.Andyoudothesameforme,okay?”

“Sure.NotthatIknowanyoneI’dactuallyfixyouupwith,Chas.AllIknowarefirefighters,andyou
don’twanttoenduplikeMom,doyou?”

“Momhastwenty-threehitsonherprofile,Matt.Andshejustregisteredanhourago.”

“Jeez!Ionlygotfourteenallday.Howmanydidyouget?”

“Onceyouupgradethatattractivenesslevel,you’llhavemore,”Ianswer,craftilyignoringhis
question.“Gottago.Elaina’soverandshejustmadedinner.”

“Don’ttellheraboutthis!Andsavesomefoodforme.”

“Okay.Talktoyoulater.”CheckingoncemoretoseeifIgotanymorehits—Idon’t—Isigh,my
humorevaporating.I’vebeenregisteredforfortyminutesnow.Momhadtwenty-threehitsinthat
time…I’vehadone,andit’sfromabloodrelative.

“Comeon.Stopfeelingsorryforyourself,”Elainasaysfromthedoorway.“Everything’sbetterafter
aquesadilla.”

Isignoffthecomputer,andforthebriefestsecond,IletmyselfrecallTrevor ’svoice.ThenIshake
myheadandjoinmyfriendfordinner.

CHAPTERFIVE

W

HEN

T

REVOR’SSISTERDIED

,sheandIwerebothtenyearsold.

HerfamilyhadmovedtoourtownwhileIwasinfourthgrade.Michellewasapalegirlwithpretty,
darkhair.Beingawell-dressednewkidhadensuredherpopularity,andforthefirstmonth,shewas
surroundedbyadmirerswhowantedtohearallabouttheglamourofSpringfield,Massachusetts,
whereshewasfrom.Whenwewereassignedtothesamereadinggroup,wechatted,foundthatwe
bothwantedtobehorsetrainerswhenwegrewup,andstartedeatinglunchtogether.Butaweekor
twolater,shebecamesick—nooneknewwhatshehad,justthatshewasout.Shecamebackaftera
fewweeks,butonlyforadayortwo.

Whenshe’dmissedmorethanamonthofschool,Iwenttoseeher,bringingsomecookiesthatMom
hadbaked.Sheonlylivedthreeblocksaway,andMomallowedmegoallbymyselfwithstrict
instructionstocallifIweregoingtostaymorethanafewminutes.Irangthebell,andMichelle’sbig
brotherletmeintothefoyer.Overhisshoulder,Icouldseesomeonelyingonthecouch,obscuredby
apuffycomforter.

“IsMichellehere?”Iasked.“I’mherfriendfromschool.”

“She’skindofsick,”thebrothersaid.“Shecan’tplayrightnow.”

“Oh.”Blushing,Ihandedhimthecookies.“TellherChastitysaidhello,”Isaid,scuffingmyfeet.The
brotherwasaseventh-grader,andkindof,well,cute.Ipeekedagainoverhisshoulder.Michellelifted
herhand.Iwavedback,notrealizingthatIwouldneverseeheragain.

“Okay.Thanksforcomingby,Chastity,”hesaid.“Thanksforthecookies,too.”

IlearnedlaterthatMichelle’sleukemiawassovirulentthatherimmunesystemcouldn’thandlethe
riskofgermsfromoutsidevisitors.WhileImissedher,itwasmoreonthetheoreticalside—we
hadn’treallyhadtimetobecomegoodfriends.Mylifecontinuedonprettymuchthesame,basketball,
homework,soccer,CCD.Thenonenight,monthsaftershe’dleftschool,mymompoppedintomy
bedroom,herfaceunusuallygrim.“SayaprayerforMichelleMeade,”shetoldme.“She’svery
sick.”

Iobeyed,chantingthehot,ferventprayersofachild.“Please,please,pleasedon’tletanythingbad
happentoMichelle!Pleaseletherbeokay.Pleaselethergetbetter.”

Shedidn’tgetbetter.

Mymotherletmestayhomefromschooltogotothefuneral,andIcriedgreatgulpingsobsasthe
smallwhitecoffinwaswheeleddownthechurchaisle.Herparentswerelimpandpalewithgrief,her
brotherstandingthinandignoredbetweenthem,likesomethingleftatthelostandfound.Atthesight
ofhim,thebarefacedknowledgethatachildcoulddie,thatImightloseJackorLuckyorMarkor
Mattthewaythatboyhadlosthissister—thatmybrotherscouldloseme—mademealmosthysterical.
Momcarriedmetothecar,staggeringalittle—Iwasalreadynearlyfivefeettall—pattingmyback
andmurmuring.Whenshegotbehindthewheel,shewipedhereyeswithshakinghands.“Iloveyou

somuch,Chastity,”shesaid,hermouthwobbling.“Iloveyouso,somuch.”

Afewweekslater,IsawMichelle’sbrother,alone,dribblingabasketballattheschoolplayground.
MomwasinsideforMark’sparent-teacherconference,andIwaspretendingtoreadTheHobbit.
Instead,IwatchedcovertlyasMichelle’sbrothershotbasketafterbasketuntilfinallythefates
acknowledgedmeandtheballbouncedoffhisfootandrolledovertome.Ipickeditupandwaited.

“Hi,”Isaidashecameovertoretrievetheball.

“Hi,”hesaid.

BeingraisedbythelaundryNazi,asJackandLuckycalledher,Inoticedthatthebrother ’sclothes
werekindofgrubby.Hissneakerslookedliketheywereontheirlastlegs,andhishairneededtobe
cut.Thereweredarkcirclesunderhiseyes,andhispantsdroopedathiswaist.

“I’mChastityO’Neill,”Iannounced.“Icametoyourhouseonce.”Partofmewantedtogeta
reaction,tosomehowstatemyimportanceandlethimknowthatI,too,sufferedandunderstoodhis
pain.

Helookedattheground.“Right,”hesaid,offeringnothingmore.

“I’mMattandMark’ssister.Doyouknowthem?”Myyoungestbrothersflankedhiminschool,Mark
ayearaheadofhim,Mattayearbehind.

“Sortof,”hesaid,stilllookingattheballthatwastuckedfirmlyundermyarm.Wedidn’tsay
anythingmoreforaminute.

“I’msorryyoursisterdied,”Iblurted.

Thebrotherlookedatmefromhisdarkeyesforaminute,thenpinchedthebridgeofhisnoseand
droppedhishead.I’dseenmydaddothatsometimes,whenhebanneduskidsfromthelivingroom
andspoketoMominalowvoice,tellingheraboutabadday,adaywhensomeonehadbeenhurt
badly…orwhensomeonehadn’tmadeit.Itseemedlikesuchanadultgesture,andtoseeMichelle’s
brotherdoingitnowmademythroatache.IrealizedIdidn’tunderstandsquatabouthispain,thatI
wasn’tsufferingatallcomparedtohim.

“Doyouwanttohavesupperatourhouse?”Iwhispered.

Hehesitated,stilllookingattheground,thennoddedonce.ThenIstoodup,andtosparehimthe
embarrassmentofbeingcaughtcryinginfrontofaten-year-oldgirl,showedhimmyexcellentlayup
andjumpshot.

Trevor ’sparentsdivorcedlaterthatsameyear,asiscommonwithcoupleswholoseachild,Ilater
learned.Thingsweren’tgreattobeginwith,apparently,butafterMichelledied,Mr.Meademovedto
California,andMrs.Meadestoppedbeingmuchofamotheranymore.Igatheredfrommanyan
eavesdroppedconversationbetweenmyparentsthatMrs.Meadewasdrinkingalot,andworse,that
shewasnotnicewhenshedrank.Momcalledherup,talkedinwhatwecalledherFatherDonnelly
voice,thegentle,compassionateonereservedforteachersandclergymembers.Trevorstarted
comingtoourhousemoreandmore,wherehewasfedandfussedoverandmadetolaughalmost

againsthiswill.Beforelong,hewassleepinginthebottombunkinMark’sroomonweekends,
shootingpoolwithJackandLuckyinthebasement,helpingMomwashthedishesafterdinner.

Afterthatfirstyear,hebecamealotoffun,akingofpracticaljokeswhichofteninvolvedwildlife
andmybedroom.HecomplimentedMom’scooking(somethingnoneofuseverdid)andshadowed
Dadinthegarage.Onceortwice,hehelpedmewithmymathhomeworkwhenabrotherwasn’t
available,andoccasionallyhewouldplaybasketballwithme.IfheevernoticedthatIworshipped
him,hewaskindenoughnottocomment.Instead,hetreatedmelike,well,likeoneoftheguys,
includingmewhenmyownbrothersmighthaveignoredme.WhenI,amerehighschool
sophomore,camedownstairsinapoofyfloor-lengthgownfortheseniorpromofaboyin
Jurgenskill,MattandMarkhowledthatIlookedlikeLuckyindrag.TrevortoldmeIlookedpretty.

HowcouldInotlovehim?

Duringhissenioryearofhighschool,Trevor ’smommovedtoIdahotolivewithhersister.Trevor
spenttheyearwithus,carefullyperfectasthenot-quiteson,neversulkinglikeatrueO’Neill,never
insultingoroverlyloud,callingmyparentsMikeandMom,doingchoreswithoutbeingasked,
almostasifhewasafraidhe’dbekickedoutifhewasanythinglessthanwonderful.

Itwasmyfatherhelovedthemost,Ithink.MattandMarkwerehisbestfriends,JackandLuckythe
olderbrothersheneverhad.Iwasasubstitute,perhaps,forthelittlesisterwhowouldnevergrow
olderthanten.Mom’sheartachedforhim,andshedotedonhimandspoiledhiminawaythatshe
neverspoiledus,becauseafterall,wealreadyknewwewereloved.Butourdad…Ourdadbecamethe
fatherTrevordesperatelyneeded.Dadtaughthimtodrive,gavehimthelectureonsafesex,andlet
himhangoutatthefirehouseonweekends,puttinghimtoworkpolishingthetrucksandcookingfor
theguys.MyfatherwaswhoTrevorwantedtobe.

ThesethoughtsallcomebacktomeasIwalkintoEmo’sonenightlaterthatweek.Attheboothinthe
corner,sitDadandTrevor,deepinaconversationofconsiderablegravity,itseems,judgingbytheir
expressions.Afewothermembersofthegangarethereaswell,butclearlyDadisaddressingTrevor,
barelysparingaglanceforJakeorPaul.

Insomeways,Trevorisjustasmuchmyfather ’ssonasthebiologicalO’Neillboys.Trevorhasa
senseofrespectformydadthat’smissingfromhisownbiologicalchildren,asifwithsharedDNA
comestheentitlementtoignoreandmockone’sparent.TrevfoldshisarmsjustthewayDaddoes,
drinksthesametypeofbeer,usesDad’smysteriousword“jamoke”toconnoteaperson’sidiocy.
NowthatDadlivesonhisown,TrevoroftenhangsoutatDad’sorinviteshimoverfordinner.

“Hi,Chas!”afewoftheothermembersofCPlatooncallastheycatchsightofme.

Iwalkovertothebooth,whichissituatedrightunderaphotoofthetragicLouGehrig,prideofthe
Yankees.“Hey,guys!”

“Whatareyoudoinghere,prettygirl?”Santoasks.

“Dinner,”Itellhim,smiling.DroppinginatEmo’sfordinnerisbecomingsomethingofasacred
traditionforme.Ihatetocook.Cookingiswastedononeperson,andMattworkssomuchovertime
thesedaysthat,evenifIcouldmanagetocreatesomethingtasty…well,nopointinevenfollowing

thattrainofthought.I’mmymother ’sgirlwhenitcomestothekitchen.

“Mygirl!JustthepersonIwantedtotalkto,”Dadsays.AnemptyshotglassandapintofGuinnesssit
infrontofhim,andhealreadyseemsalittletipsy.“Don’tanyonetalkaboutChastity’slittleincidentat
thetoystore,okay,boys?”heorders.

“Gee,thanks,Dad.You’reamasterofsubtlety.”

“Haveaseat,Chastity,”Trevorsays,gettinguptograbachair.IgenuflectbrieflyinfrontofSt.Lou
andjointhetable.

CPlatoonconsistsofmydad,thecaptain,andPaul,Santo,JakeandTrevor.AlsoJoey“Hoser”
McGryffe,buthe’sbeenoutwithakneeinjury,andtodayMattiscoveringforhim.

“HowaboutaBudandsomewings,Stu?”Icalltothebartender.Henodsagreeably.

“Haveyouspokentoyourmother?”Daddemands.

“Sure,”Isay.

“Everyonethinksit’sabadidea,herdating,”hecontinues.Jake,anass-kisser,nodsemphatically.
“Areyoureallygoingtodothatsinglescrapwithher,Chastity?”Dadcontinues.“Gocruisingfor
seedymenyoubarelyknow?”

Isighaudiblyandwithgreatexaggeration.Myfatherhascalledmenofewerthaneleventimesto
discussthismatter.Stubringsmemybeer.“Thanks,Stu,oldbuddy.Dad,I’mjustkeepingher
company,okay?Tryingtomakesureshestayssafe,”Isay,hopinghe’llremainsilentonmyown
singlestate.“I’llkeepaneyeonher,don’tworry.”

“Goodgirl,goodgirl,”Dadnods.“Listen,Porkchop,whydon’tyoudothis?Yougetthenameofany
scumbaginterestedinyourmother,andyougiveittome.I’lltakecareoftherest.”

IglanceatTrevor,whomakesasubtle“cuthimoff”signtoStu.“Idon’tthinkso,Dad.”

“Why?Youwantyourmotherattackedbysomepervert?”Mattsnorts.

“Idon’tthinkBettywouldgoforsomepervert,”Trevormurmurs.

“Shutup,you.She’snotgoingforanyone,”Dadsnaps.

“Excuseus,we’regonnashootsomepool,”Santosays,risingalongwithPaul.“Jake?Wanttoplay?”

“Notreally,”Jakesays,butPaulgrabshimbythecollaranddragshimup.

Studeliversmywingsandslipsmydadaglassofseltzerwater.

“Listen,Dad,”Isay,tryingtokeepmyvoicefriendly.“I’llwatchoutforMom,butI’mnotspyingon
her.Sorry.Matt,getyourhandawayfrommyplateordrawbackabloodystump.”

“Youwillbesorry,whenyouhavesomelecherouscreepforastepfather.”Dadtakesasipofhis
waterandsulks.

“I’mnotgettingastepfather,”Isaywithgreatpatience,takingabiteofchicken.“She’sjusttryingto
getyoutoretire.Pullingthejealousycard.”

“Retire!”MyfathersnortsasifI’djustsuggestedhesmotherkittens.“WhywouldIretire?”

IrollmyeyesandslapMatt’shandashetriestostealanotherchickenwing.Ican’thelpnoticingthat
Trevorchangedbeforecominghere,unliketherestofhisplatoon.He’swearingawhiteT-shirtthat
makeshiseyeslookevendarker.Moltenchocolate,Godhelpme.Hishairistousled—needsatrim,
probably—andmyhandistwitchingtosmoothit.ThesleevesofhisT-shirtstoprightonthecurveof
hisbrawnybiceps.Beautifularms.Damn.IforcemyeyesawaytothedimplesofLouGehrig.Trevor
andIweretogetheronce.Didn’tworkout.Endofstory.Nopointintormentingmyself.

“Chastity!”Jakecallsfromthepooltable,rescuingme.“Comeoverhere!Ineedyou,babe.”Hegrins
wickedlyatme,andIsmilebackgratefully.NotthatJakemeansanythingbyit…anythingwithapulse
andtwobreasts,that’shismotto.Itakemybeer,leavingMattthelastchickenwing,andjoinhim.
“Attagirl,”Jakesays.“Now,youcanseewhatamessI’vegotteninto.Canyousinkthatlittlebaby
overthere?”

“OfcourseIcan,”Ianswer,suckingsomesauceoffthesideofmythumb.“Standbackandlearn,
boys.Fiveball,centerpocket.”Itakethecue,bendoverandshoot.There’sasatisfyingsmackasthe
cueballhitstheorangefiveball,whichbouncesofftherailandglidestothecenterpocket.

“Welldone,”Jakemurmursfrombehindme.

“Don’tyoubelookingatmydaughter ’sass!”dearoldDadbellowsfromtwentyfeetaway.“Jake!
Youwannalosesometeeth?”

“Sorry,Cap!Forceofhabit.”Jakegrimaces.“Nooffense,Chastity.”

“Nonetaken,Jake,”Isay,battingmyeyelashes.

Trevorjoinsthefourofusbythetabletowatch.“Youguysmayaswellpayupnow,”hetellsSanto
andPaulwithagrin.

“Sixballinthecornerpocket.”Ilean,bridge,shoot,sink.Paulgrimacesandtakesouthiswallet.

“Idon’twantmydaughtertoendupwithsomejamokefirefighter!”Dadcontinues.

“Don’tworry,Dad.Iwon’t,”Isay.“Twointhecenter.”Clack,spin,thunk.

Trevorwinksatme.“Hereshegoes.”

Isquintatmynextvictim.“Sixballinthebackcorner.”

“You’llnevermakethatshot,”Paulsays.

“Tenbuckssaysshecan,”Trevorsaysrightback.

“Done.”Paulfoldshisarmsmugly.Itis,granted,atoughshot.Mr.SixBallwillhavetobankjustshy
oftheeightball,whichisonlyacoupleofcentimetersfromthepocket,thencrosstheentirelengthof
thetabletotheleftrearpocket.I’llneedtogivethecueballagoodbitofEnglish,butI’mnot
concerned.I’vebeenplayingpoolwithmybrotherssinceIwasfive.Isetup,studymyangles,takethe
shotand,becauseI’msoincrediblycool,turnawayforasipofmybeerbeforethesixballreachesits
destination.Itsinksintothepocketwithamostsatisfyingthunk.

“Shit!”Paulexclaims,andIblowmydadakiss.He’snotlooking,staringatthetableglumly.

“Thanks,Chas,”Trevorcalls,takingPaul’stendollarbill.

“Eightball,sidepocket.”Ileanoveroncemoreandwinthegame.“AndIthinkwe’redone,here,
Jake.”

Theguysapplaud,andIgrin.

“Thankyou,gorgeous.Imean,thanks,Chastity.”JakegrinsandacceptsthefivedollarsfromPaul.

“Iearnedthat,don’tyouthink?”Iask.Jakeraisesaneyebrow,handsmethefiveandgivesmea
lecherouslook.SuddenlyIfeelkindofbeautiful.Imean,afterall,hereIam,surroundedbymen,
someofwhomarenonrelativesandsingle.Beingoneoftheguyshasoccasionalbenefits.

“Don’tyoumarryafirefighter,”DadgrowlsasIreturntothetable.“Buncha’jamokes,ifyouask
me.You’djustendupallbitteranddriedupandangry,likeyourmother.”

“There’sahappythought,”Imurmur.NotthatafirefighterwoulddareaskouttheO’Neillgirl,mind
you.Ikissmydad’sbristlycheek,grabmyjacketandheadforhome.TrevorwillmakesureDadgets
homeokay.Theyonlylivehalfablockfromeachother.

CHAPTERSIX

T

HENEXTNIGHTAFTERWORK

,ItakeButtercuponhernightlydrag.Isuckinafewbreathsofthe

cleanmountainair,andadmiretheneighbors’gardens,whichareburstingwithdaffodilsandgrape
hyacinth.Buttercupstopstosniffaflower,thenattemptstocollapseuponit.“Comeon,Butterbaby,”I
say,tuggingattheleash.Sheflops,justmissingtheflower,andgivesmeamournfullook,sighing
deeply.Asquirrel,correctlyassessingherenergylevel,dartsrightoverherfrontpaw.Buttercup
doesn’tmove,justflopsonherside,moaning.“Comeon,Buttercup!”Ienduphaulinghertoherfeet
andpracticallycarryherhomeasshemoansandwags.Ithinkshekindoflikesthisformof
transportation.“You’repathetic,”Isaylaughing.Shewagshertailagreeably.

Tenminuteslater,I’mshowered,changedandonmywayoutagain.Buttercupgivesonemournful
howl,soundingverymuchlikeawerewolforthehoundoftheBaskervilles,thendoubtlesslyflops
downforasnooze.

TonightismyfirstEMTclass,andthoughI’mquiteunsurethatIwanttoattend,I’malsoprettysick
ofmakinganidiotofmyselfeverytimesomeonehasaboo-boo.Mywholelife,I’vebeenqueasy
(puttingitgently)aroundblood.It’stimetotakecharge.I’dreallyliketobemorelike…well,like
Aragorn.Nowthere’saguyyoucancountonintimesoftrouble.Afterthetoystoredebacle,after
makingafoolofmyselfinfrontofKimandDadandTrevor,I’vedecidedthatknowledgeispower.
Desensitizationtime.

IobedientlyreporttoEatonFallsHospital,whereclasswillbeheldonceaweek.Onceagain,the
notionthatI’llmeetafriendlyguyherepopsintomybrain.Sofar,TaraandSarah,goodsisters-in-
lawthoughtheymaybe,haveturnedupsquatonthedatefront.Everymantheyknowseemstobe
marriedorrelatedtome.MaybeIshouldtakeoutmyhighschoolyearbookandtakeaflipthrough.
Giveafewguysaring.Isigh.Hi,it’sChastityO’Neill!Howareyou?I’mbackintown,thoughtwe
couldmeetforadrink,shootsomehoops…andbytheway,areyoumarried?

Iwalkinthehospital’smaindoors,lostinthought,andslamintosomeonecomingtheoppositeway.
“Sorry!”Iexclaim.

“Myfault,”hesays,andholycrap,it’shim!It’stheguyfromEmo’s!Mr.NewYorkTimes!Mr.
Cheekbones!Theonewhodidn’tsendmeadrink!

“Hi!”IsoundlikeabreathlessteenageruponglimpsingJustinTimberlake.Hesmilesdistantlyand
continuesonhisway,asI,open-mouthed,watchhimgo.Beautiful.He’sbeautiful,evenfrombehind.
Makethatespeciallyfrombehind.Hishairblowsintheeveningbreeze,hissuitjacketruffling.Asuit,
butnobriefcase.Doesheworkhere?Visiting?Probablyvisitinghissupermodelwife,whojustgave
birthtoperfecttwingirls.

“Doyouhappentoknowwhothatmanwas?”Iasktheelderlywomanatthereceptiondesk.

“Whichman,dear?”sheasks.

“Theonewhojustleft?”

“Sorry,Ididn’tseehim.”

Damn.Can’tcatchabreakthesedays.Iheadtothemeetingroomwhereourclasswillbeheldoncea
weekforthenexteightweeks.MaybeI’llmeetsomeonehere,Iremindmyself.

Idon’t.Well,notthatkindofsomeone.Therearesixofus,threemen,threewomen,andItrynotto
bedisappointedthatnoneofthemenisgoingtobemyhusband,beingthattwoareintheirfiftiesand
allaremarried.PerhapstheteacherissomehunkyparamedicorE.R.doctor…butno.Instridesa
brisk-lookingmiddle-agedwomanwithwirygrayhairandsturdyshoes.Shewhipsoutaclipboard
andperusesitintently.“O’Neill?”shebarks,lookingatthelist.

“Here,”Ianswer.

“Imeant,areyouoneoftheO’Neills?”Shecocksherhead,birdlike.

“Um,ifyoumeanoneofMikeandBetty’skids,thenyes.”

Sheburstsintoasmile.“I’mBevLudevoorsk.Iknowyourdad,”shesays.“Andyourbrothers,let’s
see…Matthew,Mark,LukeandJohn,right?”

Inod,simultaneouslyproudandirritated.Proudofmybrothers,irritatedatbeingpigeonholed.

“Whatgreatguys!”Bevbarks.

“Icanseeyoudon’tknowthemwell,”Ijoke.

“Hahahaha!Youshouldcertainlysailthroughthisclass,withthefamilyhistoryyou’vegot!”she
boomsapprovingly.“Andlookatyou!Justasbigandstrongasyourbrothers.Patientliftingwon’tbe
aproblemforyou,now,willit?”

“Iguessnot,”Imutter,tryingtofeelflattered.

“What’syourfirstname?”sheasks.“Charity?”

“Chastity,”Icorrect.Oneofmyclassmatessmiles.“Myfatherthoughtitwasfunny,”Iexplain.“My
middlename’sVirginia.”

“Ouch,”thewomansays.

“Tellmeaboutit.”

“Chastity’swholefamilyworksinemergencyservices,”Bevbarks.“Right,Chastity?”

“Threefirefighters,abombdetonatorandachopperparamedic,”Iconfirm.

“Andisn’tTrevorMeadesomehowrelatedtoyou?”sheasks.

“No,actually.AnhonoraryO’Neill,butnorelation.”Ifeelmyfacewarmatthethrillofdiscussing
Trevor,loserthatIam.ForPete’ssake,I’veknownTrevmywholelife.Weweretogether

romanticallyforroughlyseventy-twohours.You’dthinkI’dbeoverthat.

“Right,soanyway,whydon’tweintroduceourselvesandsaywhywe’rehere.I’mBev,asIalready
toldyou,hahahaha,andIlovedoingthisjobbecausewehelppeople.Simpleasthat.Gottothinkon
yourfeet,movefast,keepacoolhead.It’sagreatjob.Who’snext?O’Neill?Howaboutyou?”

Ihesitate,unsureofhowmuchtruthtoparcelout.“Well,asyoujustheard,myfamilyisinemergency
services,andIthoughtitwastimeIjoinedtheherd.Oh,andbytheway,I’m,um,kindofsurprising
themwiththisclass,Bev,soifyouseeoneofthem,I’dappreciateitifyoudidn’tmentionthis.”

“Noprob,O’Neill.Next?”

Theotherpeopleinclass—Henry,Ernesto,Ursula,PamandTodd—saybasicallythesamethingas
Bev:itseemslikeagoodwaytoservethecommunity,maybeworkinthefieldprofessionally,yadda
yadda.

“Okay,people,sothisfirstclassisanoverviewofthekindsofthingswe’relikelytoseeinthefield,”
shebegins.Mytoescurlinmyshoes.Relax,Chastity.Youcandothis.Knowledgeispower.“Getthe
lightsinback,O’Neill,okay?We’rehavingalittleslideshow.”

Iobey,dreadingwhat’sabouttocome.Mystomachfeelscold.Badsign.

“Great.Slidenumberone—compoundfracture,tib/fib.Anyoneknowwhatthatmeans?”

Mymouthdriesupininstanthorror.Thereonthescreenisaclose-upofbonejuttingoutofflesh,the
white,jaggedendbloodstained,thefibrouscartilagetorn.Lookaway.Lookaway!Myneckseemsto
bemadeoflimpspaghetti,myheadwobbles,myeyesflutterclosed.Happythoughts,happybleeping
thoughts…uh…let’ssee…rowing,that’sgood…ButtercupwhenItookherhomethefirsttime…
Twinkies…um…Aragorn…Jeter…There.It’sworking.Iswallowagainstthebileandpullmyhead
backintoposition,butIstaredownatthedesk,avertingmyeyesfromthenastypictureonthescreen.
Myskincrawlsinrevulsion.

“Andnext,okay,thisiswhatwecallachronicwoundoranulceratingwound.Oldfolks,diabetics,
bed-boundpeoplearepronetothese.Peskylittlesuckersthattakemonthstoheal,iftheyeverdo.”

Don’tlook,Chastity.ButIcan’thelpit.Myeyesflashtothescreenintimetoseeanopensoreonthe
legofaveryhairyman.Immediately,Islapmygazebacktothedesk,butit’stoolate.Breathein,
breatheout,slowly,slowly…Icanstillseethefragile,angry-lookingedges,thegreenishcenterofthe
wound,likesomesortofhideous,decayingeye—OrlandoBloomandViggoMortenson,bothin
leather.Germanchocolatecake,extrafrosting.Yo-Yosateleveno’clockatnight,Buttercup’sheadin
mylap.There.Urgetovomitsuppressed.

“Andthisisadegloving.MyGod,thesearegross!”

Ihavethesensetoclosemyeyes,tippingmyheadforwardsoBevwon’tsee,buthervoiceis
inescapable.“Youcanseehowtheskinisjustpulledrightbackdownthehand.Itlookskindoftidy,
doesn’tit?Likehejustpeeledtheskinrightoff,onpurpose.Bitchtofix,though.Stitcheseverywhere.
EnduplookinglikeFrankenstein’smonster.Youokay,O’Neill?”

Atthesoundofmyname,myeyessnapopen.Damnit!NowI’veseenthedegloving!Holycrap!Oh,
God,thisistheworstoneyet.Awhimperescapesmylipsatthesightofthosered,redfingers,the
yellowish,waxyskinpulleddownlikefabric,oh,God,she’sright,it’sanoddlypreciseandtidy
injury,andIcanseeveinsandmuscleandthefingernails…thefingernails…thefingernailsarestill
on.

“I’mfine,”Imanageinastrangledvoice.

IspendtherestoftheclassmentallysingingBruceSpringsteen’s“BorntoRun,”thelastsongIheard
beforeleavingthehousetoday,andstudyingtheSnicker ’swrapperonthefloor.It’snoteasy—I’m
stillsweatyattheendofclass,becausedespitemybestefforts,certainwordshavetrickledthrough
TheBoss’slyrics.Patellardislocation.“Atnight,weride…”Arterialspurt.“Throughmansionsof
glory…”Massiveheadwound.“Insuicidemachines.”Bruce’swordshaveneverbeenmoreheartfelt,
atleastinmyrecollection.Borntorun,indeed.

Imakeaquickstopinthebathroomandassessthegraynessofmyface.Thismayhavebeena
mistake.OnceIsplashsomewateronmyface,Ifeelalittlebetter.I’llstickthisclassout.I’lltry.I
evenhaveenoughenergytowonderifI’llseeMr.NewYorkTimesnextweek.

Nextweek.Ew.Ihavetocomeagain,don’tI?Maybeitwon’tbesobad.MaybeI’llgetbetter.Idid
makeitthroughtonight,afterall.It’sastart.Sortof.

CHAPTERSEVEN

A

FEWDAYSLATER

,I

TAKEALONG

lookinthemirror,theonlythingthatactuallyfunctionsinmy

upstairsbathroom,astheboysstillhaven’tgottenofftheirassesanddoneanythingaboutit.I’m
goingouttonight,andI’mdressedlikeagirl.Sofar,sogood.

I’vealwaysbeenoneofthosewomenwhotakessomeprideinmycompletedismissalofclothes.My
clotheshavealwaysbeenforcomfortandsurvival,notforattractingtheoppositesex.Forwork,it’s
alwaysbeenpantsandanoxford,maybeagood-qualitywoolsweater,solidcolors.Aroundhome,it’s
sweatsofvaryingage,usuallywithaYankeeslogoplasteredsomewhere.Ialsohaveapenchantfor
LordoftheRingsT-shirts.Flannelshirts,jeans,thoseexcellent,fleece-linedduckbootsfromL.L.
Beanthatcomeinhandytenmonthsoftheyear.

However,myclothingphilosophybitmeintheasstheotherdaywhenIwasmistakenforLucky
whileElainaandIwereoutfordinner.Thus,Iwashauledagainstmywilltothemallbymyfriend,
whohasapropensityforbrightlycolored,low-cutblousesthatshowoffherfabulouscleavage.AsI
draggedmyfeet,Elainaturnedonme.“Willyoustopwhining?”shesnapped.“MadredeDios,shut
up!Wearingaskirtonceortwiceayearisn’tgoingtokillyou,querida,butImight,okay?”

SonowmyclosetcontainsnotjustmyThisOldHouseflannelsandLevis,butalsosomeflowery
printskirts,acoupleofsweaters(oneispink,pleasedon’ttellanyone),evensomeskinnylittleshoes
withstrapsthataren’tnearlyascomfortableasmyfavoriteshoes,awornpairofredhigh-top
sneakers.Itellmyselfit’sallforthegreatergood.

AndthegreatergoodcouldbewaitingformetonightatSinglesGroceryNight,howeverdubiousthis
mightsound.StiflingtheurgetocrawlbackintomyI

“Seeya,”Mattsaysjustasoneofourownscores.“Yes!Didyouseethat!”

“Havefun,Chas,”Trevorsays.Heglancesatmewithasmile.Thereisnojaw-drop,noabrupt
realization.Hejustlooks…happy.Happyandcompletelyunconflicted—possiblyevenpleased—that
I’mgoingouttomeet(perhaps)myfuturehusband.Hejustsmiles,andwhenTrevorsmiles,hiseyes
dosomethingthatI’vespentagoodpartofmytwentiesanalyzing.Hisfaceexceedsthesumofits
partsorsomething.TrevorJamesMeadewassimplyborntosmile,andhisappealing,not-quite-
handsomefaceistransformedintoutterirresistibility.

IrealizeI’mstaring.“Thankyou!”Ichirrup.

AtleastButtercupseemsdistressed.Shemoans,haulsherselfupandcollapsesonmystrappyshoes,
imploringmenottoleave.ThenTrevormakesaclickingsound,shelumbersovertohim,herrazor-
wiretaillashingthroughtheair,andI’mforgotten.Faithlesscur.

Idrivetothegrocerystore,imaginingsomegorgeous,financiallysecure,emotionallystableman
beingreducedtoSinglesGroceryNight.“DaddyandImetoverthehamhocks,”Isayaloud.Yup.Just
asIthought.Soundsimpossible.

Ipullintotheparkinglotandsloshthroughthepuddlestotheentrance,whereMomstandsinraincoat

andclearplastichat,impatientlywaitingforme.“Comeon!They’vealreadystarted.”

“Startedwhat,Mom?‘Attention,allsingleshoppers.Asscheck,aislenine.’”

“Mouth,Chastity.You’llnevergetamanwiththewayyoutalk.”

“Thanksfortheencouragement,Mom.”Rollingmyeyes,Ifollowherin.“Idoactuallyneedsome
groceries,”Itellher,takingoutmylist.

“Oh,forheaven’ssake.”Shesighs.“Well,justdon’tbuyanythingthatwouldputamanoff.”

“Likewhat,Mom?Asupersizeboxofcondoms?Orwouldthatmakemeevenmorepopular?”I’m
laughingatherback,becauseshe’ssqueakingoffinherlittlebittycrepe-soledshoes.

Istartwiththeproduceaisle.Tothenakedeye,itseemslikeanormalnightatthegrocerystore.Are
thereperhapsmoresinglemenhere?Hardtotell.Thereare,asalways,morefemalesthanmales.But
yes,mytrainedjournalisticeyenotesafurtivetonetotheevening.Peopleglanceateachotherthen
quicklylookaway.Awomanbuyingcilantroseemstobetakinggreatpainstoinhaleappreciatively.I
amasensuouswoman,appreciativeoflife’slittlegifts.Ah.Jeez.Igrababagofapples,plopitinmy
cart,thenmoveontoPoultry.

There’samiddle-agedmaninfrontofthechickenbreasts,holdinguppackageafterpackage,
examiningeachoneclosely,athinlyveiledmetaphorforhistruepurposetonight.“Ihaven’thada
goodmealsincemywifeleftme,”heannouncesloudly.Fourwomenzipovertoadvise.Noonein
ChickenThighsseemstobemyage,soIturndownJuices&Bargains.Acurly-hairedstudenttype
dartsalookatme,thenpusheshiscarriagequicklypast.Don’tbother,Itellhimsilently.Agrownman
whodrinksKool-Aid?Please.I’mmoreoftheGatoradetypemyself.

TothinkIworemynewshoesforthis.DowntoCookies&Crackers.Igrabafewpackagesof
DoubleStuffOreos.Can’thaveenoughofthesearoundthehouse.MattandIeatthemlikethey’re
Chicklets.Theaisleisempty,asnoothershopperiswillingtopubliclyadmittheyeatcookies.

Thisisn’tworking.Ididn’treallyimagineitwould,ofcourse.Sighing,Iturnsharplyattheendofthe
aisleandheadupCereals&BreakfastTreats.I’moutofChoco-Puffs,andMattatethelastofthePop-
Tartslastnight.There,infrontofthespeciallyadvertised,cholesterol-loweringoatmeal,isdearold
Mom,talkingtotwomen.Cripes.Tenminutesinthestore,andshe’sgottwopotentialdates.

“Chastity!Comeoverhere.Rightnow.”There’safamiliarmilitantnoteinhervoice.Iobeyandjoin
her,toweringoverhersuitors.

“ThisisGrant,”Momsays,indicatingthefive-foot-sevenman.“Andthisone…Donald?”

“That’sright!”Donald(five-four)applauds.“Welldone,Betty!”

“Hello,”Isay.“I’mthedaughter.Chastity.”

Mymotherturnstomeandputsherhandsonherhips.“GrantandDonaldareinterestedina
threesome,”sheannouncesloudly.“Withme.”

“GoodGod!”Isplutter.“Notwithmymother,youfreaks.GetawayfromherorIwillkillbothofyou
anddumpyourbodiesintheriver.”Theyremainfrozeninterror,soIslammysizeelevenfootinto
theircartandsenditcareeningdowntheaisle.“Go!”Ibark.Terrified,theyscuttledowntheaisle
towardthevegetableoil.

“Thankyou,darling,”Momsaysbriskly.“Disgusting!Peopletoday!Ican’tbelievethat.”

“Ican’tbelieveyoumademecome,”Isay.“Aren’tyousorryyou’retorturingDadthisway?”

Sheglancesinmycart.“Oh,honey.ForGod’ssake.Oreos?You’llneverattractamanwithOreos.
Putsomechocolatechipsinthere.”

“Why?TopretendI’llbakecookies?”

“Nowyou’recatchingon.Howaboutsomeyeastandflour?Menloveawomanwhocanbake.”

“I’mnotthatwoman,”Iinformher.Undaunted,shegrabsmybagofOreosandplopsthemonthe
QuakerOatsdisplay.

“Givethoseback,”Isay,rescuingmypoorcookies.“Youmightbeabletoliveontwothousand
caloriesaday,butIsureashellcan’t.”

“Hello,Betty,”comesavoicebehindus.

“Hello,Al!”Momturnstoabaldingmanaboutherageandgiveshimapeckonthecheek.“Al,you
rememberChastity,don’tyou?Chastity,Mr.PeterswasanusherwithDaddyinchurch,remember?”

“Howyou’vegrown!”Al(five-seven)says,gazingatmychest.

“It’ssinglesnight,”Momannounces.

“Iknow,”hesays,staringfirstatmyleftbreast,thenatmyright.“Areyousingle,Chastity?”

IglancenervouslyatMom.“Um…yes?”

Nodoubtaboutit.Hegivesmeaslowonce-over.“Verynice.”

Thirtysecondslater,Alisshovedthroughthedoorintotherainbymyirate,fivefoottwo,sizefour,
fifty-eight-year-oldmom.

“Isthereaproblem,ladies?”Anattractive,portlymaninhisfiftiespusheshiscartovertous.“I’m
LouisTuttle,bytheway,widower,agesixty-two,oneyearshyofretirementfromIBM,strongstock
portfolio.”

Mom’sexpressionbecomesspeculative.Ismile.“Noproblem,Louis.I’mChastity,bytheway,and
thisismymother,BettyO’Neill.”

Theyshakehands.“So,”Isay.“IthinkI’llvisitBen&JerrybeforeIheadout,Mom.”

Momgivesmealittleflutterofherfingers,alreadychattingupLouisTuttle.

It’skindofcute.Menstilllovemymother.MaybeitwilllightafireunderDad,seeinghergoona
dateortwo.Asforme,thisisawasteoftime,asidefromthefactthatI’mgettingmygrocery
shoppingdone.Iglanceatmywatch.Nine-fifteen.IwonderhowtheYankeesaredoing.WishIwas
homewatchingthemwiththeboys,eatingOreos.

Well.Can’thaveeverything,butcanhavesomeOreos.Itearopenapackageandidlyeatafew,
scanningtheaisles,occasionallyaddingsomething.Riceandbeans.KraftDinner.Familysize
Spaghettios,somevodkasauceforwhenIfeellikesomethingfancier.Popcorn.SunChips.

“NutritionQueenridesagain,Isee.”

Iwhirlaround.“Trevor!”Mykneeswobblewiththehorrorofbeingbusted.I’mpositiveIdidn’ttell
anyoneIwasgoingSinglesGroceryShopping.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”

“I’moutofcoffee.”Sureenough,he’sholdingacanofcoffeeinonehand,somehalf-and-halfinthe
other.Hisfaceisdoingthatsmilingthingagain.“So,Chastity,areyouinthemarketforsomething
otherthan…let’sseehere,deepfriedporkrinds?What’sthetransfatcountontheselittledeath
traps?”

Isnatchbackthebag.“Haveyoutriedthem?They’redelicious.Andyes,Iamawarethatit’ssingles
night.Wereyou?”Iraiseaneyebrowback.

“Ofcourse.I’mcheckinguponeveryone’sfavoritesister.Plus,Ineededcoffee,remember?”

It’snowthatInoticethattherearethreeslipsofpaperstickingoutofTrevor ’sshirtpocket.Great.He
seesmelooking.“Iguessyoucannevermeetenoughpeople,”heacknowledges,grinningagain.

Myheartstutters.TrevoratSinglesGroceryNight.Likeshootingfishinabarrel.

Sureenough…“Hi,Trevor!”comesasilkyfemininevoice.Itisattachedtoasilkyfemininebody
toppedoffbysilky,supermodelface.

“Hey,Sally,”Trevreplieseasily.“How’sitgoing?”

“Great!”Sallysays,glidinginfrontofmeandstoppingfirmly.“Justhadtograbafewthings.”Note
thedenialofsinglesshopping.Liar.Sallyisthecilantrosniffer.Hercartisfilledwithfreshproduce,
aswellasyeastandwholewheatflour.Motherwouldapprove.“So,Trevor,”shecoos.“What’s
new?”ShesticksoutherPamelaAndersonsandflipsherhair.

IrollmyeyesandeatanotherOreo.

“I’mjusttalkingtomyfriendhere.Chastity,thisisSally.”

“Hi,”Isaywiththeenthusiasmofaconcreteblock.

“Hello,”shereplieswithequalfervor.SheturnsbacktoTrevor.“Well,Ihopeyoufindwhatyou’re
lookingfor,Trevor,”shebreathes,thenwhispersinhisear,veryloudly.“Andifyoueverchange

yourmind,youknowwhereIlive.”Thenshesashaysdowntheaisle,scrawnyassswinging.Icould
crushherinonefist.

“So.Sally.”Iforceasmile.

“Wedatedafewtimes,”Trevexplains.Ah.Trevorisabitnotoriouswhenitcomestodating.Women,
asImayhavementioned,loveTrevor.Allwomen.Fiveminutesafterseeinghimforthefirsttime,
theyfalldeeplyinlove,moveheavenandearthtobewithhim,areincrediblyhappyforaveryshort
periodbeforehegentlybreaksupwiththem,crushingtheirhearts.Thentheyfondlyrecallhimasthe
oneguytheyneverresented,dislikedormistrustedandwouldstrangletheirgrandmothersfor
anotherchancetobewithhim.Obviously,Iknowthefeeling.

“So,Porkchop,”Trevorsays.Inarrowmyeyesathim.“Metanyonedecentyet?”

Iblinkinsurprise.Thisisindeednew.TrevorandImaybeongreatterms,occasionallygeteach
otherintheChristmasgrabbagand,asoflate,seeeachotheratEmo’shereandthere,butyoucanbet
thefarmwehaveneverdiscussedmyquestforahusband.

“Well,youknow,uh,”Istammer,“I’mactuallyherewithMom.”Henods.Whatthehell.Idecideto
tellhimthetruth.“Butyes,IguessI’msortof…looking.”

HereachesoutforanOreoandnodsagain.Iwait,actuallybreathless,forhimtosaysomething.What
aboutme,Chas?Wouldyouevergooutwithmeagain?Heremainssilent.Tick…tick…tick…Ican’t
standitanymore.“Youknow,I’mbackhere,planonstaying.Sosure,itwouldbegreattomeet
someone.Settledown.Havesomekids.Whataboutyou?”There’shisopening.Takeit,Trev.Goforit.
Askmetobethemotherofyourchildren.Youcandoit,buddy.Myforeheadisabitdamp,andthese
bleepingshoesarekillingme.Shouldhavewornmyredhigh-tops.They’reratherdashing,afterall.

Trevorglancesintomycart,andIdefinitelygettheimpressionhe’savoidingmygaze.“Well,Idon’t
know.Iguess…Idon’tknow.”Helooksupsuddenlyandforcesasmile.“I’vealreadybeenengaged
once,somaybeI’malittlegunshy.”

“Right.”Ofcourse.PerfectHaydenSimms,fivefootfive,onehundredandtwelvepounds,blonde,
cute,smart,openlyadoredbymen,secretlyhatedbyme.

Trevorisstilllookingatme.“Butyeah,I’dlovetobeafathersomeday.Haveacoupleofkids.The
wholenineyards.”

Ifevertherewasatimeforhimtoaskmeout,it’snow.Ifevertherewasatimeformetospeakup,
it’snow.Saysomething,Chastity.“Well,I…um…youknow,I—”abeadofsweattricklesdownmy
spine“—youknowI’vealwaysthoughtyouwere…just…youknow.Great.”Myheartisthuddingso
hardImaybarfupthoseOreos.“Andyou’llmakeagreatdad,Trev.”

Hiseyessoften.Hotfudge.They’rethecolorofthebesthotfudgeonearth.“Thanks,Chastity.
Comingfromyou,thatmeansalot.”

Iwaitformore.Ididmypart,damnit.Ijustgaveyouanopening,buddy.Speaknoworforeverhold
yourpeace.Hedoesn’tsayanythingelse.

Forasecond,IfeellikeImightcry.Okay,fine.I’musedtonotbeingwithTrevor.Fine.“Sodoyou
wantmetobeonthelookoutforyou?”Iblurt.Justsohewon’tguessthatI’mstillhunguponhim.
Justsoitwillseemlikewe’rejustpals,likeI’mjustoneoftheguyswhohappenstohaveboobsand
prettierunderwear.

Hepauses.“Uh…that’snot…No.That’sokay.”

“Hello,Trevor,honey!”Mombustlesupandkissesherfavoritechildonthecheek.“Don’ttellme
you’relookingforagirlfriend?Chastity,youmustknowsomeone—”

“Trevorneededcoffee,Mom,”Iexplainhastily,desperatetochangethesubject.“He’sonlyherefor
coffee.Andhalfandhalf.Trev!DidtheYankeeswin?”

Trevorisgrinning,whetheratmeormymomorusbothishardtotell.“Thegamewasn’toverwhen
Ileft.Butitwaseight-zip,soIfeltprettycomfortablegoing.They’relookinggreatthisyear.”

“Please,God,anotherPennant.”Irelaxalittle,backonfamiliarturf.

“FromyourlipstoGod’sears,”hesays.“Gottago,girls.Seeyousoon.Bye,Mom.”Hekissesmy
mother,smilesatmeandtakesoff.

Attheendoftheaisle,anotherwomanstopshim,andIturnawaysoIwon’thavetoseethemstanding
theretogether.

CHAPTEREIGHT

W

HENHIGHSCHOOLENDED

,Icouldn’twaittogoofftocollege.Homehadbecomeboring—Jackwas

married,Luckywasmarried,MarkwasfullofhimselfandMattwas,well,Mattwasactuallyokay,
thoughoffatthefireacademyfulfillinghisdestiny.Trevor,too,wasaway,butatcollege.Iwasso
boredathome,sotiredofthesameoldclassmates,sodismissiveofmyhometown.Iwasdyingtogo
somewherewherenoonewouldknowme,whereIcouldmakemyownmark,tobesomethingother
thananO’NeilloftheO’Neills—Mike’sdaughter,Betty’sdaughter,MikenBetty’sdaughter,Jack’s
sister,Lucky’ssister,Mark’ssister,Matt’ssister,theO’Neillsister,theO’Neillgirl.Icouldn’twaitto
bejustChastityO’Neill.Noexpectations,nolegacy,justmeandthenewcollegefriendsI’dmakeand
allthosecoolprofessorsandfascinatingclasses.BinghamtonUniversitywaswaitingforme.

Oh,andTrevor.Didn’tImentionthat?Right.TrevorhappenedtogotoBinghamtonUniversity,too.
Justahappycoincidence,Itoldmyself.DefinitelynotthereasonI’dappliedthere.Hewasajunior;he
likedit;hewasagreatfamilyfriend,sothatwasanicebonus,someonetosharerideswith.Thatwas
all.Youbetcha.

Whenwearrivedatthebeautifulcampus,ItriedtohidemyexcitementasMommoroselymademy
bedandmyfatherglumlyinspectedthefireexitsandsprinklers.Ichattedwithothergirlsonmyhall,
luggedinthetinyfridgethatborethedentsandscratchesofthreeofmyfourbrothers,hungupmy
DaveMatthewsposteronmysideoftheroom.

Anhourafterwearrived,Trevorpoppedintowelcomemetocollege.

“Hey,Chas,”hesaid,grinning,gorgeous,thosehot-fudgeeyescausingwarmthingstohappentome
southoftheborder.

“Trevor!”mymotherbarked.“You’lllookafterher,won’tyou?”

“Sure,Mom,”hesaid,slinginghisarmaroundme.Itriednottoblush.

“Nodrinking,”myfathergrowled,angryatthefactthathisbabygirldaredtoleavehome(or,for
thatmatter,leaveinfancy).“Nodrugs,noidiotboys.Youhearthefirealarm,yougetthehelloutof
thisgoddamnbuilding,youunderstand?”

“Yes,Dad.Thanks.”

Wewalkedaroundcampus,boughttherequisitesweatshirtsatthebookstore,admiredthebigshade
treesandlushflowerbeds.Whentheycouldstallnomore,myparentstrudgedtowardtheparkinglot,
Trevorandmetrailingbehind.

“I’llmissyou,”Isaid.Aclampseemedtocirclemythroat,andpaniczippedupmylegs.

Myfatherstaredattheground.“Begood,”hemuttered.

Iburstintotears.SodidMom.Dad,too.Wefellintoeachother ’sarms,sobbing.“Havefun.”Dad
choked.

“Studyhard.”Momhiccupped.

“Iloveyou,Mom,”Isqueaked.“Iloveyou,Daddy.I’llmissyousomuch.”

“Okay,okay,”Trevorsaid,good-naturedlypullingusapart.“She’llbefine.We’llcomehomesoon.
Comeon,Chas,letmegetyoudrunk.”

“Youthinkyou’refunny?”mydadasked,wipinghiseyes.“You’renotfunny.Nodrinking,Chastity.”

“Andnounprotectedsex!”Momadded,bucklingherselfintotheseat,thenblowinghernose.

“Nosexatall!”Dadyelled.“Andnodrugsofanykind,younglady.”Hegotintothecarandpointed
atme.“Nodrinking,drugsorsex.Youunderstandme?IwillpersonallykillyouifIhearanything
different.Loveyou.Callustonight.”

Astheydroveoff,itstartedtodawnonmejusthowaloneIwasabouttobe.

“So,Chas,”Trevorsaid,“youokay?Ihavesomestufftodo,butIcouldhangoutforawhile.”

“I’mfine,”Isaid,wantingverymuchforhimtohangoutforawhilebutbeingtoomuchofatough
cookietoactuallyask.

“Goodgirl.Wanttohavedinneronenight?”

“Sure,”Isaid,stillgazinginthedirectionofmyparents’car.

“Great.I’minthedirectory.Givemearing.”Hegavemeaquick,perfunctoryhug,thenlopedaway.I
watchedasfourgirlssurgedtowardhim.Hestopped,chatted,continued,turningtowaveatmeashe
roundedthecornerofthebuilding.

Sure,I’dbeendyingtogetawayfromtheirritating,know-it-allattitudeofMark.FromJackand
Lucky’sconstantstreamofadviceandinput.Icouldn’twaittogotoclass,read,writepapers,dolabs,
makefriends,haveaboyfriend.

Butitwassurprisinglyhard.

IbegantorealizehowmuchbeingtheO’Neillgirldefinedme.Here,nooneknewwhyIateso
quickly,showeredfasterthanaMarine,sworewithsuchcolorandenergy.Ifoundoutratherquickly
thatmostcollegeboysdon’twanttobeinstantlypinnedduringafriendlylittlewrestlingmatch,
outscoredthreetooneinabasketballgameorthrashedduringapoolmatch.

Likewise,itwasharderthanI’dimaginedtomakefriendswithgirls.ElainaandIhadbeenbest
friendsforeonsalready,thatkindoftight-knit,unbreachablebondthatkeptotherfriendsata
distance.Whoneededfriendswhenyouhadabestfriendforever,fourbrothers,theirwivesand
girlfriends,andTrevor?Thesegirly-girlsintheircapripantsandtinycanvasshoes,theirhair-
tossingandflirting,wereexoticandmysterioustome.Onsomelevel,Iwantedtobelikethem;onthe
otherhand,Iknewitwasimpossibleforme,fivefootelevenandthree-quarters,onehundredand
fifty-sevenpoundswiththelegendaryO’Neillshoulders,tofitinwiththecashmeresweater-set
clique.

Itwaslonely.

Atleastuntilcrewtryouts,thatis.ThankstoLucky’stutelage,Iacedthefirstround.Coachputmeon
theexclusivefour,whichmeantIhadthreeinstantbestfriends,allofwhomhappenedtobe
upperclassmenandwhoquiteadmiredthoseO’Neillshoulders.Suddenly,Ibelongedsomewhere
basedonmyownaccomplishments.Iwasjudgedonlyformyself,notwhatmybrothershadorhad
notdone.Itfeltfantastic.Ihadfinallycomeintomyown.

Iwasmeanttorow.Notinylittleshiny-hairedgirlsoncrew,nosir.Everyday,wepridedourselves
onbeingtireless,strong,ruthless,relentless.Burningmusclesandsweat-drenchedT-shirtswereour
statussymbols.Weatetogether,studiedtogether,hungoutineachother ’srooms.

AttheHeadoftheCharlesRegattainOctober,theBinghamtonwomen’sfourcreamedthe
competition,glidingfourlengthsinfrontofthesecond-placecrew,soundlybeatingeveryonewho
mattered:HarvardandYaleandPenn.Evenfreakin’Oxford!Wewereeuphoric.Eachofushadbeen
perfect,insync,oureverymoleculefocusedontherow—astudyinstrength,concentrationandunity.
Suchavictory!Binghamtonhadneverplacedsohighatsuchaprestigiousevent,andwefound
ourselveslocalcelebritiesandcampusheroesuponreturn.

Tohonortheoccasion,theentirewomen’screwteamwasinvitedfordinneratthedean’shome.It
wasaposhevening—Ievenworeaskirtandeyeshadow,myteammatesassuringmethatIdidnot
looklikeIwasadragqueen.Dinneratthedean’s!Itwasahugehonor.Wewereallnervous,
especiallyme.Iwastheonlyunderclassmanonthewinningcrew,theonlyfirst-yearonvarsity,and
yes,alotoffusshadbeenmadeaboutme.SowhenBecca,asenior,offeredmeavodkaandtonic
beforethebigdinner,Iaccepted.ThenIaskedforanother.Neverhavinghadvodkabefore,not
havingeatenanythingalldayduetosaidnerves,well,let’sjustsayIrelaxedquiteabit.

Andthenithappened.Itwasoneofthosestupidandfairlycommonmovesmanycollegestudents
make.Drinking,Iwasjustnowlearning,seemedtolowermyinhibitionsandloosentheoldtongue,
butIwasdoingokay,beingrathercharming,infact,orsoIthought.Whenthedeanherselfaskedme
—me!—howitfelttohavecapturedfirstplace,beatingsomeofthebestcrewsintheworld,whatI
imaginedwasacharminganddrollanswerfelloutofmymouth.

“Well,Dean,thosecandyassIvyLeaguersshouldhavebeendrownedatbirthbytheirparents,seeing
thattheyrowlikespaghetti-armedthirdgraders!Imean,comeon!Didyouseethoseweaklingrich
kidHarvardanorexics?”

Iwaitedfortheroaroflaughterfrommyteammates.Nonecame.Glancingaroundthedean’sposh
livingroom,Inotedthatmyclassmateswere…uh-oh…frozeninhorror.

Ihadforgotten—oh,sobrieflyandsocritically—thatnotonlyhadDeanStrothersattendedHarvard,
butshehadrowedwhileatschool.Furthermore,shehadadaughter,atHarvardincidentally,whoalso
rowed.Whohappenedtobeontheverycrewwesosoundlydefeated.

IspenttherestoftheeveningburninginDeanStrothers’shate-filledglare,tryingnottomove,trying
tomeltintothebackground,whichisratherhardtodo,sincenoonewantedtostandcloserthanfour
feet.Ourcelebratorydinnerwasruined,thedeanwaspissed,Coachhorrifiedandmyteammates
embarrassed.Iwantedtocrawlintotheriveranddrown.

Whendinnerfinallyended,somefouryearsafterithadbegun,Islunkacrosscampustomydorm.It
wasThursdaynight,andtomorrowtherewerenoclassesaspartoftheColumbusDaybreak.My
crewmatesandIhadplannedtostormthecampuscenterandcontinueourcelebration,buttherewas
nowayIwasgoingtodothatnow.ChanceswerethatI’dbethemaintopicofdiscussion,andallI
wantedwastobealone.

Myroommatehadgonehomeforthelongweekend,thankGod,andIfloppedonmybedandcried,
tornupthatI’dbeensothoughtless,sotactless,sostupid,stupid,stupid.Icouldn’tgetanythingright.I
wasabullinachinashop.Ihadnosocialgraces.Iwouldnevereverdrinkagain.I’dfinallyfound
friendsandnowtheyhatedme.Iwasablightonthesport.Ididn’tdeservetoroweveragain.Etcetera,
etcetera,etcetera.

Whenaknockcameonthedooranhourlater,Ididn’tbothergettingup,stillsnivelinginself-disgust.

“Chastity,honey,it’sme,”saidavoice.Trevor.

Ihadn’tseenmuchofhimsinceI’dstartedsixweeksearlier,andwhenIdid,hewasalways
surroundedbyfriends,usuallyofthefemalevariety,thoughhewaspopularwithbothsexes.He’d
wave,comeoverforaquickchat,patmeontheshoulderandoffhe’dgo,backtothecoolkids,tothe
fabulousupperclassmen,tothethrongsofwomenwhoseemedtoorbitaroundhim.

I’dhopedthatwewouldhangoutatcollege,walkacrossthebeautifulcampus,havedinnerashe’d
promised.Inmyeighteen-year-oldmind,ourlongtimefriendshipwouldblossomintosomething
more—adeepandabidinglove—andwewouldsoonmarryandlivehappilyeverafter.

However,itwasalltooapparentthatthiswouldnotbethecase.Trevorwastooenmeshedtoseekme
outonmorethanacursorybasis,fulfillinghispromisetomyparents.Ithurt,seeinghimsoclose,so
happy,sounattainable.

ItoldmyselfIdidn’tcare.Ihadcrew.Ihadmyownfriends.Oncecrewwasover,Iwouldprobably
evenhavetimeforaboyfriend.SoTrevordidn’tmatter.That’swhatItoldmyself.

ButwhenIsawhimstandinginmydoorway,frowningatthesightofmygloopymascaraandwobbly
mouth,Ithrewmyselfintohisarmsandsobbedwithrenewedgusto.“Stupid…vodka…dean…
candyass…stupid…Harvard,”Ibawled,andsomehowTrevorstrungthestorytogether.He’dalready
heardseveralversions,hencehisvisittomyroom.Heledmetomybedandsatdown,pullingme
nexttohimasIsniveledandblew.

“It’sokay,Chas,”heassuredmewithasmile.“It’llbelegendinanothermonth.Itjustseemshorrible
now.”

“Noonelikesme,Trevor,”Isaid,wipingmyeyes.“Ionlyhadmyfriendsfromcrew,andnowthey
hateme.I’mnobodyhere.JustabigmouthidiotwiththeO’Neillshoulders.”

“Ilikeyou,”Trevorsaid.

“Right,”Imuttered,stealingaglanceathisface.Hislovely,happyeyessmiledatme.“Youonlylike
mebecauseyouhaveto,tostayinmyfamily.”

“Nottrue,”hesaid,ticklingtheinsideofmyelbow.Heatcrawledupmyarm,meltingmyinsides.I
openedmymouthtosaysomething,butIcouldn’t,trappedinthefamiliartangleofmycrushon
TrevorMeade,world’smostpopularman.“Nottrueatall,”hesaidagain.

“It’strue,”Igrumbled.

“Comeon,Chastity,”hesaid.“You’regreat,youknowthat.”

“Savethepeptalk,buddy,”Isaid,shovingawayfromhimandstandingup.Lethimgoticklesomeone
else’sarm.Oneofhisgirlfriend’s.Jerk.

“Chas,”hechided.“Youare.You’rebeautifulandsmartandfunny,andyes,youdohavetheO’Neill
shouldersandthey’regorgeous.Plus,ifweneedsomeonetoliftatreeoffacar,thereyouare.”

“Biteme,”Isaid.

HereachedoutandgrabbedthewaistbandofmyskirtandtuggedsothatIfell(quitegladly,despite
myfeignedreluctance)backonthebed.“Sitdownandstopfeelingsorryforyourself.”

“Idon’t.Ifeelsorryforyou,havingtobabysitmeinmytimeofwoe,”Ianswered.

“Ilikebabysittingyou,”hemurmured.

“Howpathetic.”

Hedidn’tanswer.Isneakedalookupathim,andhewasjustlookingatme,alittlesmilemakingthe
cornerofhismouthpullup.Mybreathstopped,andIcouldfeelmyfacegrowhot.Thosedamn
happyeyesdroppedtomymouth,andTrevor ’ssmilefaded.

Thenbeforehecouldbreakthemoment,beforehecouldturnaway,Ikissedhim,andhedidn’tstop
me.Instead,hepushedmyhairoutofmyface,andhekissedmeback,gently,sweetly,hishand
slippingbehindmyhead,hislipsmovingjustrightagainstmine,smoothandwarm.Igrippedhis
shirtandsighedagainsthismouth,andknewthataslongasIlived,thiswouldbetheoneperfectkiss
thatI’drememberforever.

“Chastity,”hesaid,butIdidn’tgivehimtimetosayanythingelse.Ijustkissedhimagain.

Hetastedlikemintandcoffee,andhismouthwassoftandsureatthesametime,andwefittogether
sowonderfully…hewassolidandwarmandstrong,andsowasI.Ileanedback,pullinghimwithme
sothatwelayonthebed,andthekissbecamedeeper,lessperfect,moreurgent.Myfingersslid
throughthesmoothcoolnessofhisthickglossyhair,andIopenedmylipsformore.

KissingTrevorfeltlikesummerinJune…lovelyandlazyandhot,whatwasyettocomestretching
outinfrontofus,filledwithpossibility.Wekissedforageswithoutdoinganythingelse,tangledin
eachother ’slimbs,kissingandnuzzlingandtouchinguntiltheweehours.Myshirtwasunbuttoneda
few,andsowashis,butthatwasasfaraswewent,eventhoughwewerebothpantingandflushedand
sweatyandabovetheageofconsent.

Finally,Trevorpulledback.Hewaslyingontopofme,mylegswerewrappedaroundhis,myskirt

uparoundmythighs.Hisdark,thickhairwastousled,hiseyeswereheavy-lidded,andIcouldfeelthe
hardnessofhisbodypressedagainstmine.Hisarmswereshakingslightly.“Ishouldprobablystop,”
hesaidquietly,touchingmybottomlipwithhisforefinger.“Ishouldgo.”

“Don’tgo,Trevor,”Iwhispered.“Anddon’tstop.”

Heswallowedandgazedatme,seriousandquiet.Icouldseehimweighingtheintelligenceofwhat
wewereabouttodo,whatwehadalreadydone,couldseehishesitation.BecauseI’dlovedhimforso
long,beencrushedbymyyearningforTrevorforsodamnlong,Islidmyhandsunderhisshirtand
pulleditoverhishead.“Pleasestay,”Isaid,kissinghisbeautifulneck.

“Areyousure,Chastity?”heasked,hisvoicehoarse.Icouldfeelhisheartthuddingagainstmine.

“Yes,”Isaid.Thenhewaskissingmeagain,hotterandmoreurgentlythanbefore,hishandsinmy
tangledhair.AndIwassure,becauseafterall,I’dlovedhimforyears.Wantedhimforyears.
Wonderedandwishedandlongedforhimforyears,andhavinghimthereonthenarrowtwinbed,on
topofme,IfeltmorerightthanI’deverfeltinmylife,beforeorsince.

Thehotshockofhisskin,thesmoothnessofhisback,thenoisehemadedeepinhisthroatwhenIbit
hisshoulder…itallmademehotandtightanddizzy…andsohappy.Myheartwasabsolutelycertain.
WhenherolledoversothatIlayontopofhim,hishandsthreadingthroughmyhair,hesmiledatme,
andIthoughtI’dcomeapartwithjoy.

Hewasmyfirstlover,thoughIknewIwasn’this.Andafterward,insteadofmakingsomeexcuseof
howhehadtogoormaybethiswasamistake,hejustsliddownalittlesothathischeekwasresting
overmyheart,hisarmsstilltightaroundme.“Areyouokay?”hewhisperedafterafewminutes.

“Yes,”Iwhisperedback.“Areyou?”

Helaughedandliftedhisheadtosmileintomyeyes.“Neverbetter,”hesaid,andIknewI’dlovehim
forever.

Fortwodays,webarelylefttheroom.Wegothungry,ofcourse,andwhenmysupplyofM&Ms,
creamcheeseandWheatThinsrandry,wewenttoadinerintown,sittingnexttoeachotherinthe
booth,talkingaboutclassesandpeopleandevenmysocialgaffe.Weavoidedmentioningmyfamily,
butotherwise,itwaslikeIalwaysimagineditwouldbe.Once,justwhenitfeltlikewe’dbackslidinto
pureplatonics(duringadiscussionoftheYankees’postseason),Trevortouchedmycheek,hisvoice
stoppingmidsentence,andIcouldtellthathethoughtIwasbeautifulanddesirableandlovely.I
blushedfiercely,feelingthesuddenneedtolookaway.Trevlaughedthatlow,naughtychucklethatI’d
alwayswantedtoheardirectedatme,andmyheartswelledwithsomuchemotionthatIthoughtI
mightcryfrompurehappiness.

OnSunday,wereluctantlyparted,needingtodosomestudying.“Cometothegamewithme,”Trevor
suggested.TheBearcatswereplayingathome,andwhatcouldbemoreromanticthanthetwoofus
snuggledunderablanketinthestands,holdinghandsatthefootballgame?

“Okay,”Iagreedinstantly.

Inthedoorway,hecuppedmyfaceinhishands,studyingme.“Chastity,I—”Hepaused,frowninga
little.Forasecond,myheartstutteredinfear,butthenhesmiled.“I’llseeyoulater,”hefinished,
kissingmesoftly.Hestarteddownthehall,stopped,camebackandkissedmeagain.“I’mreally
leavingnow,”hesaid.Onemorekiss,anuzzle,ahug,afinalkiss.Finally,Ishovedhimaway.

“Getout,youbiglug.”Igrinned,practicallyfloatingwithhappiness.Hesmiledbackandfinallyran
downthehall.ThenIforcedmypheromone-saturatedbraintofocusonmyCanterburyTalespaper.

I

WASALITTLELATEGOINGTO

theappointedtelephonepoleinthestadiumparkinglot.Trevor ’sback

wastome,andIbrokeintoahappyrun,fullyintendingtotacklehim,nuzzlehisneckandpossibly
copafeel.ButwhenIsawwhohewaswith,Ilurchedtoahalt.

ItwasMatt.

“Hey,Sissy!”hebellowed,runningtogivemeahugehug.Isqueezedbackhard,realizingjustthen
howmuchI’dmissedhim.Myboyfriendandmyyoungestbrother,mytwofavoritemeninthewhole
world.

“Hi,Matt!Whatareyoudoinghere?”IsmiledatTrevor.Hedidn’tsmileback,hiseyesflickering
betweenMattandme.Inhispockets,hisfistswereclenched.Myheartfelltotheasphaltwithanearly
audiblethump.

“IthoughtI’dcomeforthegame,hangoutwithTrev,seehowyou’redoing,”Mattsaid,hisface
flushedwiththecold.Afewofthecashmeresetcircledlikevultures,andMatt’sgazebouncedtoward
them.Oh,hewouldmakeakillingthisweekend,lookingthewayhelookedandnowafiremanto
boot.

“Great!”Isaid.“TrevorandIweregonnacatchthegametogether,too,rightTrev?”

“Yup.That’sright,”heanswered,forcingasmile.

Thatwasallittook.IknewinthatinstantthatTrevorandIwerenotgoingtostaytogether.

Wefoundourcheapseatsandsathuddled,meinthemiddle,forthedurationofthegame.Icheered
forourguys,askedMattquestionsaboutworkandtheacademy,aboutMomandDad,andTrevordid
thesame.Ididn’tletmyselfthinkaboutthewarmlengthofTrev’slegagainstmine,howIalready
knewandlovedhissmell,howhisunshavencheekhadleftbeardburnonmychest.Iforcedmyselfto
bejustMatt’ssister,theO’Neillgirl,justoneoftheguys.

Trevorrelaxedalittleatsomepoint,realizingthatIwasn’tgoingtoannouncethefactthathe’d
defloweredthesisterofhistwobestfriendsintheworld,thegirlwhohappenedtobethedaughterof
hissurrogateparents.Hedidn’tspeaktomemuch,though,talkingovermyheadtoMattinstead,
offeringonlycommentaryaboutthegametome.Hecouldn’tseemtolookmeintheeyeformore
thanasecond.

Whenthegamewasover,Mattsaid,“Chas,we’regonnahangoutatthepub,okay?”

Iwasnotincluded,Icouldtell,beingunderageand,well,thesister.IglancedatTrevor.Helooked
away,hisjawtight.“Okay,guys,”Isaid.“Seeyouinacoupleofweeks,Mattie.Loveyou.”

“Loveyou,too,”hesaid,huggingme.

Trevormanagedtomakeeyecontact.“Bye,Chastity.”

“Seeyouaround!”Icalledbrightly,punchinghimontheshoulder.

AsIleftthem,IheardMattsay,“Checkoutthatgirlintheredjacket.Youknowher?”

Ipaused,wantingtoheartheanswer.“Notyet,”Trevoransweredwithalaugh.

Istartedwalkingagain.Sure,hewasprobablyjustshootingtheshitwithMatt.Buthedidn’t…Icould
tell…hewasn’t…

Thetearswerecominghotandfast,soIkeptmyheaddownandrantothelibrary,foundadeserted
bathroomandcried,myheartopenandraw,bigbellowingsobsthatbouncedoffthewalls.Whena
librariancameinandaskedmeifIneededtogototheinfirmaryforasedative,Igotmyselfunder
control,splashedsomecoldwateronmyfaceandwentbacktomyroom.Ichanged,wentforaten-
milerunandmademydecision.

WhenTrevorcametomyroomthatevening,anydoubtI’dhadwasclearedupbythemiseryonhis
face.“Hey,buddy,”Isaidwithforcedcheer.Isuggestedwegoout,becauseeventhoughIwas
resolved,Ididn’twanttobreakupinthesameroomwherewe’dbeenmakingloveallweekend.We
walkedtoabenchunderaparticularlybeautifulchestnuttreeandsat.Thebranchesroseandthen
curveddownward,nearlytotheground,andthegoldenleavesshelteredusfrompassersby,andthe
darkmadewhatIhadtosayalittleeasier.Besideme,Trevorsatstock-still,staringstraightahead,
tenseandquietasacat.

“Trevor,”Isaid,takinghishand,“Ithinkwemighthavemadeamistake.”

Hisshouldersdropped.Therewasnomistakingtheutterreliefthatlightenedhisexpression.“Iwas
justabouttosaythesamething,”headmitted.

Funnyhowpridemakesyoutough,sometimes.Iturnedtofacehimalittlebetterandswallowedhard.
“Look,Trevor,youmeantheworldtome.ButwhenIsawyouwithMatt,well…”Myvoicebroke,
butIcoughedtocover.“We’reyoungandfoolish,andourwholelivesareaheadofus,allthatcrap.”
Iswallowedagain.“Weprobablyshouldn’tbedoingthis.”

IthoughtIsoundedprettygood,giventhatmyheartwasinanincreasinglytighteningvise.Itriedto
smile,succeeded,andwatchedasTrevornodded,jamminghishandsinhisjacketpockets.

“Chas,Ishould’ve…Ishouldneverhave…”Heswallowed.“I’msosorry.Thisisallmyfault,”he
saidmiserably.

“Ithinkit’sbothourfaults,okay?”Iwhispered.“You’renottoblame.It’sjustthatthere’stoomuchto
lose,don’tyouthink?”

Helookedatme,hisfacesoterriblyseriousandgrim.“It’snotthat…thatIdon’tcareaboutyou,
Chas.”Helookeddown.“BecauseIreallydo.”

Theleavesrustledinthebreeze,adozenorsodriftingandswirlingtotheground.Onelandedonhis
hair,andIreachedupandtookit.“Oh,metoo,Trev.ButthelastthingIwantistohavethingsbe
weirdbetweenus.Somaybeweshouldjustgetwhilethegetting’sgood.”

Hisfacelookedsosad.Mythroatwaskillingmewithunshedtears,mymusclesweretautandready,
mypulsewasracing.Withmywholebeing,witheverycorpuscle,Iwantedhimtoobject.Tosay,No.
Ican’t.Iloveyou,Chastity.Ihavetobewithyou.Instead,henodded.“Yeah.You’reright,Chas.”

Wesatinsilenceafewmoreminutes,metryingnottoswallowtooloudly.ThenTrevorputhisarm
aroundme,huggedmefiercely,sohardmyribscreaked,andletmego.

Standingup,helookedtohisleft,thedirectionofmydorm.“Wantmetowalkyouback?”heoffered,
hisvoicerough.

“No,no.I,um,I’mgonnaruntothelibraryforabook.Seeyouaround,bigguy.”

Iwaiteduntilhewasoutofsighttocry,silent,endlesstearsthatdrippedoffmychin,cursingmyown
stupidity.Inmyhand,Istillheldtheleaffromhishair.

Oh,Iknewwe’ddonetherightthing.InthatfirstmomentwhenIsawhimwithMatt,Iknew
everything.ThathewasterrifiedthatbeingwithmewouldcosthimtheO’Neillfamily.Thatthings
wouldchangeifhewereChastity’sboyfriend.Andwhataboutthefuture?Howmanyeighteen-year-
oldsmarrytheirfirstcollegeboyfriend?Inevitably,we’dbreakup,andwhatthen?Wherewouldhe
goatThanksgiving?WouldmymotherwelcomehimifIwassobbinginmyroombecauseTrevor
Meadedumpedme?WouldDadthinkofhimashisfifthsonifheknewthatTrevorhadsleptwithhis
littlegirl?

Trevorhadalreadylostafamily.Iwouldn’tmakehimanorphanagain.

CHAPTERNINE

A

SPARTOFTHE

EatonFallsGazette’scommunityrelations,thepaperisoneofthecorporate

sponsorsofaten-mileroadracetoraisemoneyforbreastcancerresearch.Foraweeknow,the
paper ’sbannerhadbeenruninpink,andthoselittleribbonsandpinkbraceletswereeverywhere.The
ideawastogetpeopletosponsoryou,payyourentrancefeeandrun,walkorotherwisefinishthe
race.It’salovelytradition.I’veruninitatimeortwobeforeincollegeandafter,butnow,asan
employeeofthesponsor,myparticipationwasmandatory.

Iarriveatthemeetingpoint,cladinmylycrarunningshortsandaLordoftheRingsT-shirt—Mordor
isforLovers.There’sastageswampedinpinkballoons,vendorssellinghotdogsandpretzels,and
hundredsofpeopletheretowatchthestartandfinishoftherace.Thecoursestartsonthegreen,goes
downRiverStreetforacoupleofmiles,crossesthebridgeintoJurgenskill,runsparalleltheriver
againandthencrossestheEatonFallsbridgebytheenergyplantandcomesbackintotownforthe
finish.

InadditiontotheGazette,thehospitalhasateamrunning,asdothefiredepartment,HudsonRoasters,
AdirondackBrewingandtheelectriccompany.Ilookaround,fullofsmugloveforthesceniclittle
cityIlivein.Pinkflagsareflappingfromallthestreetlights.Severalofthebuildingsonthisblock
havepinkbuntinghangingfromtheirwindows.Thehigh-schoolbandplayssomewherenearby,andI
canhearthebrasssectionbleating,feelthedrumsreverberatinginmystomach.It’squitetheevent.
I’mpleasedtoseehowit’sgrown.

ThenIseehim.Mr.NewYorkTimes!Thecheekbones,thehair,thesix-feet-two-inchesofmale
perfection—shit,wheredidhego?Craningmyneck,standingontiptoe,Istillcan’tseehim.Damnit!
AsidefromTrev,thatmanisthefirstguywho’sdoneitformeinages.Ineedtomeethim.Ineedto.

“Hey,Chastity!”It’sAngela.“Oh,wow!Loveyourshirt,”shecontinues.“That’smyfavoritemovie.
Infact,Ihavealife-sizecutoutofLegolasinmyofficeathome.”

“Ithinkthat’ssad,”Isay.“BecauseAragornismuchhotter.”

Shelaughs.“No,he’snot.AndLegolasissomuchcooler.Rememberthatflipthinghedoesontothe
horse?”

“OntoAragorn’shorse,”Iremindher.“AragornsavedLegolas’sass.”

“Youguysaresuchlosers,”Petefromadvertisingsaysfrombehindus.“Really.Doyouplay
DungeonsandDragons,too?”

“Notanymore!”Isay.

“Notfordays,”Angelaechoesandwelaugh.

“Areyougirlswalkingorrunningtoday?”Peteasks.

“I’llprobablywalk,”Angelasays.

“IfIran,I’dprobablydie,”Peteadmitsaffably.“Walkingisbadenough.Tenmiles!Crap!Whatabout
you,AmazonQueen?”Petetakesaminutetoscanmyframeandsmilesappreciatively.“I’vealways
beendrawntodomineeringwomen.”

“Don’tmakemehurtyou,Pete,”Isay.

“Iwantyoutohurtme,”hesays.“Oh,there’smywife.Pretendwe’rejustcoworkers.”

Pete’swife,whomI’vemetacoupleoftimesbefore,rollshereyes.“Aslongasthelifeinsuranceis
paidup,Idon’tcarewhatyoudo,hon.Havefuntoday,youguys.”

“Where’stherestoftheGazetteGazelles?”Iask.

“Overthere,”Angelasays,gesturing.Sureenough,mycoworkers—Penelope,AlanGraytooth(I
can’tseemtogetthatnicknameoutofmyhead),Danielleandoneofourfreelancers,whosename
escapesme.Lucia,cladinbubblegumpink,standsclosetoPen.She’sholdinghandswithatall,thin
manwearingverytight,blackrunningpantsandabrightyellowshirt.

“IseeLanceArmstronghasjoinedourgroup,”Imurmur.

“Oh,that’sright,youhaven’tmet,”Angelasaysaswewalkovertothegroup.“TedEverly,Lucia’s
fiancé.”

“Ah,”Ibreathe.“Atlast.Theman,thelegend,thebear.”

“Hello!Hello,everyone!”Penelopecalls.She’swearinganoversizeT-shirtthatsays“EatonFalls
Gazette—CommittedtotheCure”andyogapants.“Theracestartsinabouttenminutes,solet’sget
overthere!”

It’sabeautiful,clearday,withalightbreezeofftheriver—perfectforrunning.Wewalkovertothe
startlinewithhundredsofotherparticipants.Idoafewstretchestowarmup,andPenelopefrownsat
me.“Everyone,dowhatChastity’sdoing,”shesays.“Chastity,you’reabitofajock,aren’tyou?
Showusafewgoodstretches.”

“Iprefertheword‘athlete,’Pen,”Isay.Idemonstratebasicrunner ’sstretches,isolatingallthemajor
musclegroupsofthelegs,hipsandlowerback.

“TeddyBearandIdoPilates,”Luciaannounces.“Wedon’tneedthese.”

“Hi,TeddyBear,”IsayasIloosenupmyankles.“I’mChastityO’Neill.”

“SoI’veheard,”hemutters.“Nicetomeetyou.”Judgingbytheexpressiononhissharp-featuredface,
it’sasniceas,say,drinkingpoison,orseveringone’sfingerjustforthefunofit.Well!Heseems
perfectforLucia,whosehairissprayedintoaspun-sugarcloudofDorisDayblond.Herlipsare
deepred,hermascaravisibleattwentypaces.

ThemayorofEatonFallsgivesalittlespeech,thankingthesponsors,gettingusrevvedup.Ilook
aroundforMr.NewYorkTimes,butIdon’tseehim.Therearehundredsofrunners.Idoperusethe
crowdwearingEFHospitalT-shirts,butIcan’tmakehimout.That’sokay.I’mstillprettyexcited.

DadandMattdefinitelyarerunningtoday—itgivesmeathrillofpridethatmyfathercanstilldoten
miles—andIthinkMarkwasplanningonit,too,andpossiblyTara,whorantrackincollege.Butthe
restoftheO’Neillswillbepositionedatsomepointalongthecourse,readytocheerontherunners
andpossiblysprayuswithahose.

Thestartingpistolisfired,andoffwegowiththerestofthecrowd.Withthewalkers.Therunners
lopeupahead,andmyfeetitchtojointhem.TheEFGstaffwalksbriskly,butit’snotthesame.Ijog
almostinplacenexttomycoworkers.“Anyonefeellikerunningalittle?”Iask.Peteshootsmea
glare.“ExceptforPete?”

“Imayhaveaslightlungcondition,”Penelopesays,pattingherchestfondly.“Chronicbronchitis,
possiblywalkingpneumonia.IwasworriedaboutTB,butmyskintestwasclear.”

“Ange?Wanttorun?”Iask.

“Um…notreally,Chas,”sheadmits.

“Okay,”Isigh,circlingourgroup.LuciaandTeddyBeardonotdeigntolookatme,simplypump
theirarmsinrhythmandheel-toe,heel-toewithvigor.

“Chastity,”Penelopesays,“ifyoucanrunthiscourse,goforit!It’llmakethepaperlookgood.Go
ahead,goahead.”

JustthewordsI’vebeendyingtohear.There’ssomethingaboutaracethatbringsoutthecompetitor
inme.“Yousure?”Iask.

“Go!”

That’sallittakes.I’moff,mylonglegseatingupthestreet.Therearetimeswhenbeingbuiltlikean
Amazonteamsterisaplus,andthisisoneofthem.Ialreadyrowedthismorning,butrunningusesa
differentsetofmuscles,andIlovetorun.Granted,Iwon’twin,sinceIstartedoffwiththeslowpokes,
butI’llcatchquiteafew,nodoubt.Sureenough,IseeafewT-shirtsthatbeganwithusinlessthan
halfamile.

Mybreathingisevenandsmooth,mystridelongandfast.TenmilesisnotthelongestcourseI’ve
everrun;IfinishedtheNewYorkCityMarathontwice,Bostononce.Still,itwilltakesomegumption.
“Lookinggood,O’Neill!”IturnmyheadandcatchaglimpseofBevLudevoorsk,myEMT
instructor,andIwaveandsmile.“Nicejobinclasslastweek!”

Lastweekwaspatientlifting,andasBevpredicted,I’manatural.

Icrossthebridgeatthethree-milemark.Lotsofpeoplehavestoppedheretocatchtheirbreathand
admiretheview,butIcruisepast,intotheshoppingdistrictofJurgenskill.Thesmellofhotdogsand
popcornisrichintheair,andpeoplecheerandwaveandofferussprayswithhoses.Thearea
becomesresidentialandhillier.Peoplearesittinginlawnchairs,playinginspiringsongsonthe
radio.Icatchafewbarsof“ChariotsofFire”andgrin.There’sevenabandatonedriveway.Of
course,they’replaying“BorntoRun.”

Atthebottomofaratherlong,gradualhill,Ihearawonderfulsound.

“Go,Auntie,go!Go,Auntie,go!”

Theclan!They’recampedoutabouthalfwayupthehillonthelawnofSarah’sparents’house—and
allmyniecesandnephewsarejumpingupanddown,screamingforme.“Go,Auntie,go!Youcando
it!Go,Auntie,go!”

Justforthem,thesweetlittlebunnies,Isteponthegas,flyingupthehill,pastthelaboringrunners,
pastthosewho’vebeenreducedtotrudging.Thekidsgonuts.Jackringsacowbell,Momcallsout
encouragement,Luckyflipsburgersonagasgrill.

“Teeeaam…O’Neill!”Iyell,stickingmyhandoutforhighfivesasIracepast.Thekids’facesare
shiningandproud,andIfeelsucharushofloveforthem,cheeringmeonlikethis,thatalump
comestomythroat.

“Lookinggood,hottie!”Elainacalls,holdingDylan.

“Chastity,you’reninety-foursecondsbehindthefiredepartment!”Sarahcalls,glancingatherwatch.
“Goget’em,girl!”Sheraisesadrink—lookslikeaBloodyMary—andtoastsme.

“Yougotit!”Icallback.Thefiredepartment.Icandefinitelycatchabunchofmuscle-boundmen.

It’spurejoytoruntoday.Thepeopleliningthestreetsbecomeablur.I’malmostsprinting—I’llhave
tocurbmypacelater—butI’malreadyatthefive-milemarkandbarelyfeelingit.Thebreezeis
stronganddryandfeelslikeheavenagainstmydampforehead.Myfeetpoundoutahardrhythmon
thestreet,mybreathkeepingtime.AndthenIseethem,thedarkblueshirtsoftheEatonFallsFire
Department,runninginapack,fiveacross,likeit’saparade.Mydad,Matt,Mark,SantoandTrevor.
AnotherbriefsprintandI’mnexttothem.

“Oh,hello,boys,”Ipant.“Ithoughtthatclusterofheterosexualitywasyou.”

Theylaugh.“Keepuscompany,Chas,”Trevorsays.

“You’retooslowforme,”Ianswer.“Didyouhearthat,Mark?I’mgoingtokickyourass.”

Markshootsmeacalculatinglookandtakesthebait.“Youthinkyouhaveachanceinhell?”heasks.
“That’sfinewithme.”Helengthenshisstride.“Seeyou,guys.”

“Goodluck,Porkchop,”Dadsays.

Forthenextmile,MarkandIstayneckandneck,eachofustestingtheother.It’sbeenawhilesince
werantogether,andthecompetitionfuelsusboth,justlikewhenwewerekids.Markwasalwaysthe
onewhotookwinningmostseriously—Jackwouldletmewin,Luckywouldrunatmyside,Matt
didn’tlikecompeting,butMarkmadeithislifemissiontobethevictor.AndIalwayshadalotto
prove—thatIwasasgoodastheboys.ThatIcoulddowhattheydid.Thattheydidn’tneedtolookout
forme,becauseIwasfineonmyown.Betterthanfine,really.Superior.

“Caretoplacealittlemoneyonthis?”Iaskmybrother,who,damnhim,isshowingnosignsof
fatigue.

“Whatwereyouthinking?”heasks.

“Finishmyupstairsbathroom?”Isuggest,tryingnottopant.

“Nah,”hesays.“Ahundredbucks.”

“Done,”Isayinstantly.

We’reattheseven-milemark,andthecrowdsseemtoknowweneedthematthispoint.Threemiles
togo,mostofituphill,untilwegettothebridge.Weroundacurveandcometothenextchallenge.

It’sahillsosteepit’slikeclimbingastepladder,andmycalvesstartprotestingimmediately.There’sa
grindingsensationinonekneethatwasn’ttherethelasttimeIraninarace.ButIcan’tslowdown,so
IdigintothehillwitheverythingI’vegot,keepingpacenexttomybrother.

“ThisiswhereIgetoff,”Marksays,andjustlikethat,he’ssprintingupthehill.Itrytokeepup,but
hechargesupthatthinglikeit’stheBattleoftheBulge.He’sfivepacesahead,eight…ten.Mystep
slows.Myshinsarekillingme,mycalvessore.Thegrindingismorepronounced.

“You’renotjustgonnasitthereandtakethat,areyou?”

Trevorisrunningbesideme.Heglancesover,grinning.“Comeon,Chas,wecancatchhim.You
knowMark.He’sallshow.Thishillwillbehislasthurrah.”

WithTrevnexttome,smiling,Ican’thelpfeelinginvigorated…andsobleepingfondofhim.Damn
it!Themanisaprince.Wechugsolidlyupthehill.“Hi,Trevor!”callsafemininevoice,andTrev
wavesbutdoesn’tlookover.“Youdoingokay?”heasks.

“Great,”Isay.We’reatthetopatlast.Fromhere,it’sabouttwomilestothebridge,thenjustsixmore
blockstothegreen.

“Comeon,then,”Trevorsays.“IcanseeMarkupahead.”

Thefieldofrunnersisconsiderablythinnerhere.We’reatthefrontofthepack…well,inthetop
quarter,anyway,wellbehindthetruecross-countryrunnerswhoareprobablyfinishingrightthis
instant.Werunalong,andIfeelmysecondwind,therunner ’shigh,theendorphins.Ormaybeit’sjust
Trevornexttome,hishairdampwithsweat,faceflushed,darkeyessparkling.

Ineedtospeedupwithoutburningout,totailMarktothebridgewithoutlettinghimknowI’mclose
enoughtomakeamove.ButTrevorwasright.FlyingupthehillwasMark’smistake,andweclose
thedistancetoaboutthirtyyardsbythetimewereachthebridge.

“Hereyougo,Chas,”Trevorsays.“It’sallyoursnow.Emptythetank.”

“Thanks,Trev.Couldn’thavedoneitwithoutyou.”Iblowhimakissanddoasinstructed.

I’mflyingnow.There’saslightinclinedowntothebridge,andbythetimeIhitthesteelgrid
flooring,I’mflat-outsprinting.WhenIpassMark,Idon’tsayaword,toofocusedonkeepingmy
stride,onfinishingthebridge.IturnontoRidgeStreet,takingthecornerfastandtightontothelast

twoblocksoftherace.Thestreetsarepackedwithscreamingsupporterswavingpinkflagsand
cheeringmadly,andthesightofaflat-outsprintermakesthemgoabitnuts.Iteardownthelast
block,crossthefinishline,legsrubberyandbuckling,andcollapseontothegreen,heartthundering,
lungsburning,happyasallhell.

“Youokay?”araceorganizerasks,helpingmeup.

“Ihadtobeatmybrother,”Igasp,laughing.

“Goodforyou,”hesays.“Getsomewater,okay?”

Markfinishesafewsecondslater.“Crap,”hegasps,slowingtoawalk.“Ithoughtthatwasyou.”He
doesn’tlookhappy,andIknowhimwellenoughnottogloat.“Well,shit,congratulations.”

“Thanks,buddy.”Weshakehands.Markslapsmyshoulderandgoestogetsomewaterwithout
furthertalking.IcatchmybreathandstretchmycalvesandwaitforTrevor.

Whenhecrossesthefinishline,muchmoregracefullythanIdid,herunsrighttomeandenvelops
meabigsweatyhug,smellingmanlyandathleticandsomehowoffreshcutgrass.“Youbeathim,of
course?”hewhispers,makingmyentireleftsidetingle.

“Yes,Idid,”Iwhisperback.“Thanks,Coach.”

“Goodforyou.”Heletsmego—oh,itfeelssodamnlonely!—andtakesalongpullfromthewater
bottletheracepeoplegiveout.“Thatwasaveryprettysight,”hesays,wipinghisforehead.“Youflew
overthatbridgelikeyouhadwings.”

Myheartmayburstfromprideandhappiness.“Well,”Isaymodestly.“It’sagreatdayforrunning.”
Inaflash,Idecidetoaskhimoutforacelebratorybeer.Justhimandme.Maybethepossibilityof
beingwithTrevorisnotquiteasdeadasIpretend.Maybethingswillshift,andwe’llseethat—

“Hi,Trevor.”Webothturn.Webothfreeze.

It’sHaydenSimms,Trevor ’sex-fiancée.

TheblooddrainsoutofTrev’sface.“Hayden,”hebreathes.

“Hi,Chastity,”shesays,hereyesflickingtome.She’sdressedinwhitejeansandapinkshirtand
looksascoolandfreshasatulip.Herblondhairhangsstraightandsilky,andshewearsseveral
silverringsonvariousfingers,makingherlookartsyandcool.Silverbraceletstinkleandslideover
hertannedarms.IamsuddenlyawarethatIcansmellmyownsweat.

“Hi,”Imumble.“Wow.Fancymeetingyouhere.”

“Mymomiswalkingtoday,”sheexplains,tuckingsomeperfecthairbehindhertinyears.“She’sa
cancersurvivor,soIwantedtocome,ofcourse.”

Trevorstillhasn’tsaidanything.

“How’veyoubeen,Trevor?”PerfectHaydenaskssoftly.

“It’sgoodtoseeyou,Hayden,”hemurmurs.Thenhiseyesstartwithasmile,andtherestofhisface
follows.Abriefflareofhurtfiresinmychest.

“Well,Ishouldgo,”Iblurt.“Um,thanks,Trevor.Again.”

HedragshiseyesoffHayden’sblondperfectionandlooksatme.“Right.Sure,Chas.Seeyouaround.
Goodrun.”

“Thanks,”Imumble.

Nobeer.Nocelebration.Norevelation.

Crap.

CHAPTERTEN

B

YGRADUATESCHOOL

,I

BELIEVED

myselftobeoverTrevor.Timediditsworkathealingtheold

brokenheartandallthatcrap.Ihadaboyfriendortwoincollege.AtColumbia,Iwasprettydamn
popularwiththemen,beingaprofessionaloneoftheguystype,butIwastoobusyforanythingreal.I
datedalittle…Jeff,afellowgradstudentwhowaswickedlyfunnyandedgyandsnaggedajobwith
CNNoursecondyear.ThentherewasXavier,whotaughtchemistryatPS109.Butnothingserious.It
wasn’ttime.ItwasNewYorkCity,andinManhattan,marriageisn’tsomethingtothinkaboutuntil
you’refortyorso.

Inthesixyearssinceourbrieffling,TrevorandIhadgonebacktothefriendshipwe’dalwayshad,
backtoacasual,fondrelationship,notquitefamily,morethanjustfriends.Imadeitapointnotto
moonafterhim,tobecheerfulandfriendlywhenhewasaround.Ithelpedthathetransferredoutof
Binghamtonaftermyfreshmanyear,finishingupatUniversityofVermontbeforegoingonto
paramedicschool.IspentmyjunioryearinFrance,andwhenIcameback,theachewasn’tas
noticeable.Iwasyoung,Itoldmyself.Everyonehadthatwistfulfirstlove.I’dgetoverhim.

Butthenoneday,whileIwasinmyfinalyearofgradschool,workingattheNewYorkTimesasa
fact-checkertomakeendsmeet,Trevorcalledme.“Chastity,”hesaid,“Iwaswonderingifwecould
gettogether.Maybehavedinner?I’llcomedowntothecity,whatdoyousay?”

“Sure!”Isaid.“Thatwouldbegreat!”Theflushonmycheeks,theslighttremorinmyhandstoldme
exactlywhatIwasthinking.

He’dbeendatingsomegirlnamedHayden,someonefromBinghamton,actually,oneofthecashmere
sweater-setgang.ShelivedabouttwentyminutesoutsideofEatonFalls,andsometimeaftercollege,
sheandTrevorstartedhangingout.I’dmether,even,hungoutwiththeboysandHaydenatEmo’s
lastsummerandbeenfriendlyandfunandrelaxedasever,barelyevennoticingthatshewas
gorgeous,inlawschool,cool,confident,andseveninchesshorterandprobablyfiftypoundslighter
thanIwas.IthoughtI’ddoneagreatjobnotbeingbothered.

Butsuddenly…suddenly,TrevorwascomingallthewayintoManhattan,agoodthree-hourdrive,just
tohavedinnerwithme.Fortheveryfirsttimesincethatwonderful,horribleColumbusDayweekend,
Trevorwantedtoseemealone.Surelythismeantsomething.HeandPerfectHaydenhadbrokenup,
right?Ithadtobe.AndTrevorwascomingdownheretotellmethathe’dnevergottenoverme.That
nowthatwewereadults(Iwastwenty-four,hewastwenty-seven),shouldn’twedosomethingabout
thefactthatweweremeanttobetogether?Don’tgetaheadofyourself,Chastity,alittlevoiceinmy
brainwarned.Becool.Aren’twetrainingtobecomeajournalist?Let’sgetthefactsfirst.Ididn’t
listen.Screwthelittlevoice.Ididn’tcallhomeandaskwhatwasnew,either.Ididn’tevencallElaina.I
wasafraidthatI’dcursemyluckifImentionedthatTrevorwascomingallthewaytothecitytosee
me.Thatabrotherwouldtagalong,orworse,aparent.

Inafrenzy,Iblewtwoweeks’payatLongTallSally’s,thebestplaceintownforusoversizegirls,
andboughtanoutfitthatsaidcasual,interesting,funky,confident,butnottryingtoohard.Iboughta
newpairofbrightredhigh-tops.Igotahaircutandamanicure.Iinterrogatedfriendsandcoworkers
forthebestplacetotakeTrevor,aplacethatwouldshowhimthatIwasacoolNewYorker,thatwas
comfortablebutnotsloppy,casualbutstillcharming,aninsider ’splace.

“McSorley’s?”suggestedacoworker.

“Toogrimy,”Isaid.

“Aquavit?”suggestedmyboss.

“Toostressful.”

“GothamBar&Grille?”

“Tootrendy.”

Intheend,afterfourdaysspentresearchingrestaurants,Ifoundit.AtinyItalianrestaurantinthe
VillagewherethewaitersspokebrokenEnglishandthefoodwastodiefor.IknewTrevwouldlove
it.Itwasquiet,thestaffwouldletustakeourtime,anditwasso,soromanticwithitstinytables
overlookingthestreet,anditsbrickwallsandwoodfloor.TonyBennettwouldplayonthestereo.
Ourkneeswouldbump,we’dstareintoeachother ’seyes,laugh,kiss.God,I’dmissedhim!Sincethe
momentI’dhungup,whereverIwas—inclass,atwork,inbed,onthesubway—Ipictureditoverand
over.Whenthelittlevoiceinsidemyheadwarnedmetoassumenothing,Itoldhertoshutthefuckup
andletmeenjoythemoment.

WhenIfinallybuzzedTrevoruptomyminusculeapartmentthatIhadscouredfromfloortoceiling,
Iwasshaking.Atlast.Atlast,Iwouldbewithhimagain,becauseI’dneverlovedanyoneelse,thatwas
perfectlycleartome.NotthewayIlovedTrevor.Never.

“Hey,Chastity!”hesaid,huggingmehard.“Youlookgreat!Wow.Thisisreallycute!”Hecameinto
ourflea-sizelivingroom,shookhandswithmyroommate,Vita,whogavemeanapprovingnod.

“Well,wecancomebackhereafterdinnerandhangout,”Isuggestedoh-so-casually.“HeyVi,want
tojoinusfordinner?”Asinstructedearlier,shedeclinedgracefully,claimingadifficultpaperand
latedatewithherboyfriend.

AndsoTrevorandIwalkedthroughthestreetsofChelsea,downintotheVillage.Hewasimpressed
withmyknowledgeofthecity,seemedgenuinelyhappytoseeme,andwhenIreachedouttotughim
acrossanintersectionwhenhewalkedtooslowly,hedidn’tremovemyhandfromhisarm.

“It’sgreattoseeyou,Chas,”hesaid,smiling,hiseyesdoingthattransformingthing.Myheartbucked
inmychest.Noticeeverything,Itoldmyself.Drinkitallin.You’llrememberthisnightforaslongas
youlive.

AndIdid,butnotforthereasonsIwanted.

Wegottotherestaurant,whereIwasgreetedwarmlybythemaîtred’I’dspentanhourinterrogating
threedaysbefore.Heseatedusatthechosentableoverlookingthestreet,andourkneesdidindeed
bump.Weorderedabottleofwine,chattedcasuallyaboutwork,firefighting,myfamily.

“So,Chastity,areyouseeinganyone?”Trevoraskedalittlehesitantly,hischocolateeyesintent.

“Well,”Isaid,tiltingmyhead,“notreally.ThereareacoupleofguysIgooutwithonceinawhile,

butnothingserious.Justhavingsomefun.”Aperfectanswer,oneIhadpracticedinthemirrora
dozenorsotimes,demonstratingthatIwassoughtafter,butdiscerning,andstillquiteavailablefora
moremeaningfulrelationship.

“Goodforyou.”Hesmiled,andIgrinnedback,takingthistomeangoodbecauseIwasfree.Forhim.
Mytoescurledinmyhigh-tops.Thewaitercameover,weorderedandTrevortookasipofwine,
thensettheglassdownandstraightenedthecutlery.“Chastity,youknowI’vebeenseeingHayden,
right?”heasked.

“Sure,”Isaid,tuckingsomeofmynewlycuthairbehindmyear.Myheartratespedup,myknees
tingled.Hereitcomes….

“Well,thingshave,um,changedalittle,”Trevorsaid,notliftinghisgazefromthetablecloth.His
smile,Inoted,droppedanotch.Stillalittlesadaboutbreakingupwithher,nodoubt,whereasmy
ownheartrocketedwithjoy.Oh,God,thankYou.Finally.

Iwassopreparedtohear“Webrokeup”thatIalmostmissedwhatTrevoractuallysaid.

“We’regettingmarried.”

Foramoment,mystupidsmile,myexpectant,hopefulstupidsmile,stayedonmyface.Myeyes
widened,andItookasharpbreath,thenanother,thatstupid-asssmilestillthere,asoutofplaceas
kielbasaataSedersupper.ThenIwasblinking,becausemyeyeswerestingingwithtears.Don’tyou
dare,thatlittlevoicehissedwithsudden,viciousloathing.Don’tyoudarecry,youstupididiot.“Holy
crap,Trev!Wow!”Isqueaked.“Thisisgreat!Wow!Great!”

“Youreallythinkso?”Hiseyeswerefullofsympathy—orsomething,andsuddenly,mypride
gallopedontothescene.

“Yes!”Iexclaimed.“This…I’m…surprised,youknow?Ididn’tthinkyouwerethatserious!But
congratulations!She’sgreat.”

“Thanks,Chas.”Heleanedforward,hiselbowsonthetable.“Iwantedtotellyouinperson.”

“Thatwasso…niceofyou!”Bastard!“Yeah!No,really.Thankyou,Trevor.”Myfistswereclenched
inmylap,andIhadtoswallowagainandagain.“So,haveyousetadate?”Theroaringinmyears
wasenoughtodrownoutthehappydetailsforthehappycouple,butnotenoughtosilencemylittle
voice.Youbleepingidiot.Didn’tItellyoutoslowdown?Huh?Ican’tbelievethis.Ifyoucry,Iwill
killusboth.

Mariothewaiterbroughtourdinners,andIateandate—theantipasto,thesalad,oh,thebread,
fantastic,andmypenneallavodka,outofthisbleepingworld,andifmymouthwasstuffed,I
wouldn’thavetotalk,now,wouldI?JustsmileandnodatwhateverthehellTrevorwassayingnow.

“Iwasalittleworried,”Trevoradmitted,wipinghismouth.“Abouttellingyou,Imean.”

“Why?”Iasked,stuffinganotherhunkofolive-oil-drenchedbreadintomymouth.

Hisbeautifuldarkeyeswentsad.“Well,youknow.Becauseofour…thingincollege.Ifeltkindof

awkward,tellingyouaboutbeingengaged.Iwasafraidyou’dbe—”

“Bewhat?Areyoukidding?Comeon!You’relikeabrothertome,Trev.I’mhappyforyou.Really.
Sheseemslikeagreatperson.”

Trevor—whomIreally,reallyhatedatthismoment—smiled,albeitawkwardly.“Well,yeah,
definitely.Sheis.Thingsjustgotseriouskindoffast…Anyway.Thanks,Chastity.”Hepaused,seemed
likehewasgoingtosaysomethingmore,thenaskedaboutmyclasses.

WhenMariobroughtourtiramisu,Iexcusedmyselftothebathroom,threwup,thenrinsedmymouth
andstaredintothemirror.“Idiot,”Ihissedwithashockingamountofself-hatred.“Youpathetic,
ridiculous,stupididiot.”

T

REVORAND

P

ERFECT

H

AYDEN

movedtoWashington,D.C.,whereshehadjustsignedonatahigh-

poweredlawfirm.Trevpickedupworkasaparamedic,andtheyboughtacondoandsetadatefor
theirwedding.Fortunatelyforme,theydidn’tcomehomeforChristmasthatyear,becauseeven
thoughIwasusedtotreatingTrevorlikeapal,seeinghiminlovewithhissize-sixfiancéewould
havebeentoomuch.

Somethinghappened,though,andIneverheardfirsthandwhatitwas.Matttoldmeonlythatitwas
PerfectHaydenwhocalledthingsoff,thatTrevhadwantedtoworkthingsout.Whateverthecase,he
movedbacktoEatonFalls,resumedhisjobonthefiredepartmentandwasalittlequieterandmore
seriousafterthat.

Thatwassixyearsago.Sincethen,tothebestofmyknowledge,Trevorhasn’tbeeninareal
relationship,despitethenumberofwomenwhowouldfollowhimtotheendsoftheearth.Maybehe
hasabandonmentissues.MaybehenevergotoverHayden.Maybeshewastheloveofhislife.Maybe
everynightashe’sfallingasleep,hethinksaboutherandcan’thelpimagininghowincredibleit
wouldbeiftheyweretogetheragain,iftheyhadthatloveback,ifthingshadtakenadifferentturn.

Andnowshe’sback.

CHAPTERELEVEN

A

FEWDAYSAFTERTHEROAD

race,Penelopesummonsmetoheroffice.IcantellbyhertonethatI’ll

beexaminingsomepartofherbodyfordisease.WhensheheardthatIwastakinganEMTclass,
she’dbeennearlyovercomewithjoy.Sureenough…“DoesthislooklikeanAVM?”sheasks,
pointingtothebackofherknee.

“What’sanAVM?”Iask,bendingdownforalook.

“Arteriovenousmalformation,”shesayswithominousrelish.

“Hm.Well,itlookslikeavaricosevein,ifthat’sthesamething,”Itellher,rising.“Anythingelse?”

“Yes.There’saself-defenseclassbeingtaughtattheYtonight,andIwantyoutogo.Ihadthisgreat
idea,”Pensays,settlingbackintoherchair.“HeroesofEatonFalls.Wecaninterviewthisteacher—
Ryansomething,Ihavehisnamesomewhere.He’sdedicatedtowomen’ssafety,wantswomentobe
abletoprotectthemselves—”hereIsnort“—thatsortofthing.Andthenwecanmoveontotheusual
firefighter-copthing,afewScoutleaders,maybesomeonewhorescuesanimals.Whatdoyouthink?”

“Sure,”Isay.“Soundsnice.”

“It’llsellmorepapers,too.Subscriptionshaven’tfallenrecently,buttheysureashellhaven’tbudged,
either.”

“Well,herostoriesalwaysdosellmorepapers,”Iacknowledge.“Thatandmurders.”

“Youhaveabunchofrescueworkersinyourfamily,don’tyou?”sheasks,lurchingupright.“Maybe
wecandoastoryjustonthem!TheO’NeillsofEatonFalls.FamilyofHeroes.HeroesAreaFamily
Tradition.HeroismRunsintheFamily.”

Heroismrunsinthefamilytoapoint,Ithink,rememberingKimfromthetoystore.Still,Ifeelthat
familiartingleofprideandirritation.“Well,obviously,I’dhaveaconflictofinterest,writingabout
myfamilyforthepaperIworkfor.”

“Trueenough,trueenough.Okay,well,ifwegowiththatone,I’llassignafreelancer.Butlet’srun
withthefirefighterthing,justnotoneofyourrelatives,okay?”

“Sure,”Isay.Idon’tmind.Firefighterscertainlydeservetheircredit,eveniftheydositaround
bickeringlikeabunchofoldwomenhalfthetime.“Iknowafewguyswhowouldprobablytalkto
meforastory.Andtherearealotofotherheroeswecouldunearth,notjusttheusualsuspects.We
coulddopeoplewhoworkwithspecial-needskids,thegoodSamaritanwhohelpedyoufixyourtire
intherain,thatkindofthing.Whatdoyouthink?”

Penlikesit.Wetalkalittlemore,thenIheadbackformydesk.AlanisleaningoverAngela,andshe’s
asfarasshecangetfromhimwithoutactuallybreakingthroughhercubicle.“Ange,canIseeyoua
second?”Iask.

“Yes!”sheexclaims,boltingpastAlantomyarea.IwaitaseconduntilAlanreturnstothenewsdesk

andpicksupthephone.

“Idon’thaveanything,really,”Isay.“Justthoughtyoucoulduserescuing.Thinkofyourselfaslittle
Pippin,measnoble,flawedBoromir,killingalltheUruk-haiinadesperateattempttosaveyou.”

“Yougirlsreallyneedtogetoutmore,”Petecommentsashewalkspast.Weignorehim.

“Thankyou,”Angelasays.“Alan’saniceguy,but…”

“Iknow.He’snoAragorn.”

“He’snotevenGimli,”shesays,referringtothefour-foot-talldwarffromourfavoritemovie
trilogy.

“Doyouwanttograblunchtoday?”Iask.

“Sure!”sheanswersimmediately.

“Oneo’clock?”Iask.

“Soundsperfect.Ishouldgetbacktowork.I’mputtingtogetherapageonmake-aheadmeals,”
Angelasays.Shepauses.“Um,justonemorething,Chastity.”

“Sure,”Ianswer,tippingbackinmychair.

“IhappenedtoseeyouatSinglesGroceryShopping,”shesaysinawhisper,blushingattractively.

“I’mnotgay,”Iinterject.

“Oh,Iknow!”

“Justwantedtogetthatoutthere.”

“No,”shecontinues.“Um,Iwaswonderingifyourbrotherwasseeinganyone.”

“Matt?No,he’snot,actually!”Ilurchupright.“He’sgreat.Haveyoumethim?”

“Ijustsawhimatthestorethatnight,”shemurmurs,herfacefuchsia.“AndIcaughtaglimpseofhim
attheracelastweekend.”

Ipause.“Mattdidn’tgotogrocerynight.”Thenrealizationdawns.“DoyoumeanTrevor?”

“Theguywhokissedyourmom?Brownhair?Greatsmile,darkeyes?”

Myheartstutters.“Yeah,that’sTrevorMeade.He’snotmybrother.Familyfriend,that’sall.”

Angela’sfaceishopeful.“Oh,okay.Well,doyouknowifhe’sseeinganyone?”

Mysulkyinnerchildprotests.Youcan’thavehim.I’velovedhimsinceIwastenyearsold,damnit!
Andthenthere’sPerfectHayden.Ihaven’theardwhatwentonwiththat.“Um…I’mnotsure,butI

don’tthinkhe’sseeinganyoneatthemoment,Ange.”Shebitesherlipandsmiles,andmyheartsinks
evenfurther.“Wantmetoputoutsomefeelers?”

“Thatwouldbegreat,”shesays.“He’sreallygorgeous.Imean,onelookandIcouldfeel…youknow.
Thattingle.”

“Yes,”Iadmit,forcingasmile.“He’s…veryappealing.”Thereisnoreasonformetoobjectto
Angela’sinterest.TrevorandIaredearfriends.Havebeenforyearsandyearsandbleepingyears.
Oh,andthewomanheonceloved,whobrokehisheart,isbackintown.Truthbetold,I’dratherhave
AngeladatingTrevorthanPerfectHayden.AtleastAngela’snice.

Atthatmoment,ashrieksplitstheair.“Omigod!TeddyBear!”LuciaflingsherselfatTeddyBear,
whohasjustwalkedthroughthedoor.“TeddyandIhavetointerviewcaterers,”Luciaannounceswith
thesametriumphasifshe’djustannouncedthatshewonthePulitzer.

“Havefun,”Icallamiably.

“Theweddingisonlysixteenmonthsaway!There’ssomuchtodo!Omigod!Youwouldn’tbelieveit,
Chastity!It’slikeafull-timejob!”

“Icanimagine,”Isaydryly.“Howlonghaveyoubeenengaged?”

“Fouryearsandsevenmonths,”Teddyanswersinstantly.“Let’sgetgoing,sweetums.”Heturnsto
Lucia,fixeshercollarandgivesmeafakesmile.HehasasharpwayofpronouncingtheSsoundthat
makesitsoundlikeahiss.“Wecan’thavethecatererswaiting.AndthenIhavetozipbacktoworkfor
ameetingwithourshareholders.”

“TeddyBear ’sthevicepresidentofthecompany,”Luciabrags.

“Isee,”Ianswer.“Congratulations.”

“Bye,all!Mustrun.”Lucia,headhigh,sauntersoutoftheoffice,TeddyBearonherheels.

“Ifthatguyisstraight,thenI’mGeorgeClooney,”Peteannounces.Wincing,Ican’thelpbutagree.

Attheendoftheday,Iheadforhometograbsomedinnerbeforetheself-defenseclass.Takingabite
ofthecoldpizzafromlastnight,Icheckmye.Commitmente-mail.Mymotherhashadfifty-nine
responsestoherprofile.Fifty-nine.I’vehadMatt.

Oh,hey,here’ssomething!Settingmypizzaaside,Iclickonthemessage.DearGirlNextDoor,
wonderingifuwant2get2gether.Sawurpictureandthoughtusoundedcute.Idecidetooverlookthe
irritatingabbreviationsandcheckouthisprofile.Hm,notbad-looking.Favoritethingstodo:
Baseball,rollerblading,eatingout.Sofar,sogood.Threemostimportantthingsinhislife:Mycat,
mymom,theRedSox.

Sorry,pal.IsupposeIcouldtolerateaBostonfan(aslongastheRedSoxagreednevertobeatthe
Yanksagain),butcombinedwithhiscatandmother,there’sjustnohope.

Ireachformypizza—atleastthere’sthat—onlytofindthatit’sgone.Buttercupisfeigningsleepnext

tomydesk.Sheburpssoftly.“Shameonyou,”Itellher,pettingherheadwithmybarefoot.Hertail
lashesthefloor.

Anhourlater,AngelameetsmeattheYMCA,havingacceptedmyinvitationtotagalong.Elaina
couldn’tgo,claimingthatmynephewhadworndownherlastnerveandtheonlypersonshewanted
tobewithtonightwasRobertMondavi.I’dleftamessagefortheteacher,tellinghimI’dbecovering
thestoryfortheGazetteandhopedhe’dbeavailabletoanswerquestionsaftertheclass.

“Hello,sweetheart!”

“Mom!Whatareyoudoinghere?”Iask,eyingmymothersuspiciously.

“Yourfathermademecome,”sheannounces.“HesaidifI’mgoingtobedatingfreaks,scumbagsand
perverts,thenI’dbetterknowhowtodefendmyself.Hello,dear,I’mChastity’smother,Betty.”

“Hello,”Angelasaysinhergentlevoice.

“Dadmadeyoucome?”Iask,takingoffmyBinghamtonCrewsweatshirttorevealanotherinmy
LordoftheRingscollection:ElfWanted:ArcherySkills&LeatherPantsaMust.

“Well,yes.Ifsomethinghappenstome,afterall,whowillcookhisdinner?”

“It’snotyourcookinghewantstoprotect,Mom,”Isay.

“Chastity’sfatherandIaredivorced,dear,”MomexplainstoAngela.“He’sverybitter.Chastity,
sweetheart,IhadalovelydatewithanicemannamedHarrytheothernight.Wemightbeserious.”

Angelacocksaneyebrowatmeandthenbusiesherselfretyinghersneaker.

“Wow,that’sgreat,Mom,”Ilieflatly.

Themartial-artsroomispackedwithyoungwomen,allofwhom,Inote,areratherastonishingly
attractive.Ifeelalittlegrottyinmyagingsweatsandraggedhigh-topswheneveryoneelseseemsto
havetheseirritatingtracksuits…cutelittleensembleswithcutelittlestripesdowntheside,hoodies
croppedshorttorevealcutelittletummies.There’salotoflipglossinthisroom,alotofhighlights.

Thedooropens,theteacherentersandmymouthfallsopeninshock.

It’sMr.NewYorkTimes.

Hispresenceerasesallthoughtfrommymind.He’shere.Mr.NewYorkTimesishere.ThemanI’ve
beendyingtomeetforweeksisteachingthisclass!

Mybraindistantlyregistersamasssighoffeminineappreciationthatpracticallycauseshishairto
flutter.Andsuchhair!Dirty-blond,longenoughtocurlattheends,justenoughtomakehimlook
carelessandcasualwithoutdriftingintounkempt.He’swearingablackkarateuniformthatwrapsin
thefront,showingadeepVofgolden,glowingskin,andmyhandtwitchesatmyside,wantingto
Touch.That.Chest.

“Wow,”Angelawhispers.Herfaceispink.

“Holycrap,”Ibreathe.

“Goodevening,ladies,”hesays,smiling,andIstopfeelingmylegs.Hishandsgotohisbelt,andfor
abriefsecond,Ithinkhe’sgoingtountietheknotandtakeoffhisshirt—Yes!Yes,please!—anda
giddyrolloflustrushesthroughme.Butno,no,ofcoursenot,he’sjusttighteninghisbelt.Justas
well.I’dprobablyjumphim.“MynameisRyanDarling,andI’mafourthdegreeblackbeltinkempo
karate.I’malsoatraumasurgeon”—GoodGod!—“andI’msorrytosaythatI’veseenfirsthandsome
oftheinjuriesthatoccurwhenawomanisattacked.”

Mymothertsksnexttome.Iignoreher,toocaughtinRyan’sspelltodoanythingotherthanclosemy
mouthandswallow.Lookatme,Iwillhim.Hedoesn’t,continuingonwithhisspiel.Ishouldbe
listeningmorecarefully,asIamdoingastoryonhim,butmyhearingseemstobeobscuredbylust,
whichisactuallycausingmyearstobuzz.Nomatter.IknowfromexperiencethatI’llrecallhiswords
later…trickofthetrade.Hemoveswithcatlikegrace,pacinginfrontoftheclassashediscussesthe
needforeverywomantobeabletofightthegoodfight.

Ryanclapshishand,snappingmeoutofmydaze.“Okay,let’sgetstarted.Everyone,grabapartner.
We’llstartwithsomebasicstances,blocksandpunches.”

BlockingandpunchingissomethingIlearnedmyfirstweekoflife.Weformlinesandimitateour
Adonis-liketeacher.ItisimmediatelyapparentthatIamclearlythebeststudenthere.Yes,I
acknowledgeproudlyasIhelpthewomanonmyleftsetherfeettheproperway,Iamanaturalat
fightingoffmen.Perhapsthisexplainssomeofmydatinghistory,butthereitis.IcorrectAngela’s
weaklittlefist—herthumbwasn’tevenacrossherknuckles,poorlamb—anddemonstratetheblock
withgreatvigor.

Imightnotbetheprettiestonehere,orthetiniestortheonewiththecutestassshowcasedindesigner
sweats,butclearly,Iamawesomeatfighting.Ryanisatthebackoftheroom,helpingmymotherand
acoupleofotherwomenbackthere.Hisvoicecarriestome.“That’sright,good,Betty.Great.Legsa
littlefartherapart.”God,ifhesaidthattome,I’dthrowhimtothefloorandhavemywaywithhim,
therestoftheclassbedamned.Myinsidesquiverwithlust.

Wemoveontostrategicstrikezones,andI’mhorrifiedtolearnthatsomewomentrytopummeltheir
attackersonthechestandshoulders,ratherthangoingforthepatheticallyvulnerablegroinoroh-so-
delicateAdam’sapple.Angelaholdsupapadformetohammer-fist.Please.Icouldhaveacedthis
classwhenIwaseight.Still,IimitateRyan’spuncheswithsharpefficiency,smackingthepadwith
quiteafewmorepoundsofforcethananyoneelsemanages,causingAngelatostaggerback.Surely
Dr.RyanDarling,blackbeltandsurgeon,willnotemysupremacyatbeatingtheshitoutofthe
punchingbag.

Unfortunately,mystrategyisn’tworking.Ryanseesthosewhoarestrugglingandmovesthroughthe
linestocorrectafisthere,demonstrateablockthere.BecauseIamsoproficientatman-fighting,his
glanceflickersrightoverme.

“Okay,”Ryansaysaboutahalfhourlater.Someofthepoorlambs,Angelaincluded,aresweatingup
astorm.“You’reagreatclass,soIthinkwe’llmoveontosomethingalittleharder.Brittany,would

yougivemeahandonthisone?”Brittany,wholooksaboutnineteen,swaystothefrontoftheroom,
herlong,straightblondhairacurtainofperfection,lipglossthickasanExxonspill.Shecementsher
bimbopersonawithalightandflutteringgiggle.

“Great.Thanks,”Ryansays.“Thisnextmovewouldbeusefulifsomeonewasrushingyou.Yougrab
thearmoftheperson,pullthemtowardyou,usinghisownenergyagainsthim.Thenyoujustpullthe
armdown…boom.Yourattackerwouldfliprightover.”Hepantomimesthemoveinslowmotion.
“Yougrab…youpull…youflip.Seehoweasyitis?”ThenhegrabsBrittany’shandanddoesitagain,
thoughofcoursehedoesn’tactuallyflipher.Herfaceisglowing,andshe’sclingingtoRyan’shand
likehe’spullingheroutofapitofmoltenlava.“Grab…pull…flip.Okay,let’sgiveitatry.Getwith
yourpartners,decidewho’sgoingtogofirst…”

Bouncingontheballsofmyfeet,IturntoAngela.“Don’thurtme,Chastity,”shewhispers,blinking
rapidly.

“Iwon’t!”Iexclaim.“Comeon,attackme.”

Otherwomenarealreadyrushingattheirpartners,includingmymom,whomakesanadorable
attacker,Inote.Nooneisactuallyflipping,althoughoneteenagerstumbles.Thisismychanceto
shine,butAngelawringsherhands,shiftingherweightnervously.

“Comeon!”Ibark.“You’llbefine.”

She,grimaces,closeshereyesandrushes.Igrab.Ipull.Iflip.

Angelatumblesneatlythroughtheairandlandswithasmackonherback.Herbreathcomesoutina
wheeze.

“Shit!Areyouokay?Oh,Ange,I’msosorry.”Honestly,Ididn’tthinkshe’dbequitesolight.Guilt
andremorsestainmyfacewithpink.Icovermymouthwithonehand.She’sjustlyingthere.“Ange,
I’msorry!”

Angelaadjustshereyeglasses,whichwerejarredaskew,andblinksupatme.

“Greatjob!”Ryanappearsatmyside,reachesdownandhelpsAngelatoherfeet.Sherubsthesmall
ofherbackandstaresreproachfullyatme.

“I’msosorry,”Iwhisper.

“Areyouokay?”RyanasksAngela.

Shenodsandsmilesruefully.“Myfriendheredoesn’tknowherownstrength,”shesays.

“Sorry,”Isayyetagain.

RyanDarlingturnstome.“What’syourname?”heasks,cockinghishead.“You’rereallygoodat
this.”

“Ihavefourolderbrothers,”Imurmurdemurely,thensmile.“Hi.I’mChastityO’Neill.”About

freakingtimehenoticedme,Ithink,thenimmediatelyforgivehim.Hisbonestructurealonecould
sendtheGreekstowar…andhiseyes!Apure,clear,DerekJetergreen.Man,oh,man.Nicework,
God.

He’sreturningmylookjustasintently.Mykneesnearlybuckle.“Fromthepaper?”heaskssoftly.
Nicevoice,quietanddeepandgentle,andIcanjustimaginehimsaying,Chastity,I’vebeenlooking
forawomanlikeyouallmylife.

“Mm-hm,”Isqueak,unabletoformactualwordsatthemoment.

“Great.”Hesmiles,mygirlpartsclench,andheturnstotheclass.“Chastityheredidaperfectjob!”
Ryanannounces.“Infact,”hecontinues,“Chastity,whydon’tyoucomeupherewithme?Wecan
demonstratehowtobreakachokehold.”

Hetakesmyhand—Pauseforamoment,Chas,letitsinkin—yes,hetakesmyhandinhisownwarm,
strong,brilliantsurgeon’shandandleadsmetothefrontoftheclass.Therearemanysourfaces
lookingbackatme,andIsmilemodestly(Ihope.Frankly,IfeelastriumphantasAttilatheHun
conqueringEurope.Takethat,yousizezeroes!).

Thiskindofthingjustdoesn’thappentome.Imean,sure,I’vebeenattractedtomenotherthan
Trevorinmylifetime.ButdoesdroolingoverDerekJeterandAragornreallycount?Thefactthat
Ryan—Mr.NewYorkTimeshimself!—isholdingmyhand,evenifhe’spreparingtostrangleme,is
stunninglywonderful.Asidefromthehelpless,discouragingloveIfeelforTrevor,Icaneasilysay
thatI’veneverbeforebeensodrawntoaman.

“Great,Chastity,”Ryanmurmurs.Heplaceshishandsonmyneck—gently,evenreverently,itseems
—andthentenderlypushessomeofmyhairoutoftheway.Isitmyimagination,orareRyan’s
beautifulgreenJeter-esqueeyesfilledwiththatmagicalcombinationofwonderandattraction?My
facegrowswarm,mychestexpandsalmostpainfully.Whateverwe’reabouttodo,Iwanttodo
perfectly.IwantRyanDarlingtobeproudofme.Tobeinaweofme.Tofallinlovewithme,marry
me,havebabieswithmeor,attheveryminimum,toaskformyphonenumber.

“Okay,”Ryansays,turningtoaddresstheclass.MyGod!Thosecheekbones!Istareatthebeautiful
angleshe’spresentedmeandregisterthelengthandheftofhiseyelashes.Unbelievable.“Obviously,
ifyou’rebeingchoked,youhavetoactimmediately.Ifyourairwayiscompromised,you’regoingto
losethefight.Chastity,you’reyoung,”hecontinues,lookingdown(yes,downfromtheloftytwoand
aquarterincheshe’sgotonme),“you’reingreatshape”—Suppressexclamationofjoyandtriumph
—“andyou’reobviouslystrong.”

Ismileagain.Young,greatshape,strong.Ilovethesewords!Morethanthat,Ilovethesehandsonmy
shoulders,thethumbsrestingjustonmycollarbonesashelecturestheclassaboutwalkingstrong,
lookingstrong,etcetera.Icanbarelyhear.AllIfeelistheheatfromthosehandspouringintome,
fillingmewithakindoflanguidslowness,asifwarmhoneyisflowingintomefromthisman—my
futurehusband—andIimaginemore:imaginehimslidingthosehandsdownmyarmsandbackup
again,warmagainstmybareskin,himpullingmeagainsthisgoldenchest,hismouthloweringto
mine—

Suddenly,mythroatisbeingsqueezed—nothard,butsqueezed,mindyou—andbeforemybrain

catcheson,mykneegoesup.Goesuphard.

AndRyangoesdownlikeabullinthestockyards.Mythroatisfree,butthemanIplanonmarrying
writhesonthefloor,clawingatthemat,becauseitseemsI’vejustseriouslycompromisedhisability
tofatherourchildren.

CHAPTERTWELVE

“M

YDAUGHTERKICKED

ablackbelt’sass!”DadannouncesatEmo’sthenextnight.It’shappyhour,

twoandahalfplatoonsarehere,threeofmyfourbrothers,acousinortwo,andTrevor,whois
talkingtoLindseytheKittenWaitress.

“Itwashisgroin,”ImutterintomyScorpionBowl.Yes,ScorpyandIarebacktogether,whichgives
youanideaofhowgoodthepasttwenty-fourhourshavebeen.

WhenRyancollapsed,theentireclassrushedtohim,andIwaspushedasideinthestampedeto
administerfirstaid.Exceptforcallingoutmortifiedapologiesashebaby-steppedtohiscar,Ididn’t
actuallyspeaktohim.Furthermore,Ididn’tgetthestoryandhadtothrowtogetheranarticleon
JamesFennimoreCooper ’sinfluenceoncurrentfiction.I’mguessinganentirefourpeoplewillread
thatone.

ItakeanotherslurpofScorpyandstareatthebar,carvingmyinitialsintoasolidifiedpuddleof
margarita,ignoringthenoiseofhappyhour.Myemptysocialcalendaryawnsinfrontofme.
Tomorrownight,I’llbeeditingnextweek’sfeaturesfromhome,sinceImustcovertheDaffodil
Festivalduringtheday.Theradiatorinthekitchenneedstobescraped.Buttercupcoulduseabath.
AndonFriday,IheadforLuckyandTara’shousetobeabusedbytheirchildrenwhilemybrotherand
hiswifeheadtoSaratoga,wheretheywillholdhandsandgazeintoeachother ’seyes.Itseemsabout
asclosetoaromanticweekendasI’mgoingtoget.

Isighwithgustoandstuffahandfulofpretzelsintomymouth.Mr.NewYorkTimes—thatis,Ryan
Darling,M.D.—wasmygreathope.Foramoment,howeverbrief,Iknewthathewasattractedtome.I
feltit.Hecheckedmeout.Hewasinterested.Until,ofcourse,I’dsquashedhistesticlesintopancakes.

Wasitsounexpected,honestly?Imean,therehewas,chokingme.I’djustflippedAngelaand
acknowledgedfourolderbrothers.Ryanhadalreadycommentedonmystrength,my“greatjob”at
throwingfriendsthroughtheair.AccordingtomymotherandAngela(whohavebondedgreatlyover
thisincident,bytheway),Iwassupposedtobringmyarmsdown—orup(weallknowIwasn’t
listening)—andbreakthechokehold.Mykneewassupposedtostayoutofit.Butcomeon!Itwasa
self-defenseclassforwomen!What’sthefirstthingtheyteach?Goforthegroin,girls.Kickhiminthe
balls.IprobablyhaveitonaT-shirtsomewhere.

“Tellusagain,”mybrotherJackprompts,materializingatmyside.

“Shutit,”Imutter.PaulwhistlesthethemetoTheNutcracker.

“Comeon,”Santowheedles.“It’sthestuffoflegend.”

“Doyouwanttobenext,Santo?”Iask.

“It’sherwayofstandingoutinacrowd,”Markstates,closertothetruththanherealizes.“Knock’em
downanddrag’emofftohercave.”

Theguyshowlwithlaughter.OnlyTrevordoesn’tjoinin,butI’mfeelingtoobleaktofeelgrateful.

“Oh,andyou’resuchanexpertontheoppositesex,right,Mark?”Isay.“You’restillmadthatIbeat
youattherace.”

“Soyou’reajock,Chas.Alonely,spinsterjock,”hereturnsspitefully.

“Mark,wouldyoulikemetosharethefactthatyouoncetoldmeyouthoughtPatrickSwayzewas
muchhotterthanLukePerry?”Iask.“No?Thenshutup.”

Themen’stenuousattentionissuccessfullydiverted.Granted,Markwillhavetodealwithgayjokes
forthenextseveraldecades,butIfindIdon’tcareabit.HeshowedupatElaina’syesterdaytopicka
fightaboutsomethingintheproposeddivorcesettlement,yelledatElaina,snappedatDylan,slammed
thedoorsohardonthewayoutthatawindowpanecracked.Shithead.

“Yourmotherhadthreedateslastweek,”myfatherwhispersfiercelyinmyear.“Shehastostopthis.
It’sridiculous,nottomention—”

“Shutit,Dad!Haven’tyouheardofkeepingthekidsoutofyouruglydivorce?Okay?Canwetalk
aboutsomethingotherthanMom’samazingsociallifeandmekickingguysinthenuts?Canwe?
Huh,Dad?”

Dadstartstosaysomething,wiselyreconsidersandslidesawaytoamoreamiableproductofhis
loins.Can’tsaythatIblamehim.Screwit.I’dfeelmorecheerfulifIwerehomealonewatchingTony
Sopranobeatsomeonetodeath.AtleastI’dhaveButtercup…andoneoftheking-sizedSnickersbarsI
boughtatCostColastweek.MakethatthreeSnickersbars.MaybeI’llgohome,getthebagof
Snickersandmydog,andgoovertoElaina’s,wherewecanbothbecheeredbythesightofTony
Sopranobeatingtheshitoutofsomeone.

IdrainScorpy—I’velearnedthatoneismylimit—andswivelaroundonmystool,readytoleave.
Trevorisstandingrightinfrontofme.“Hey,Chas,”hesays.

“Whatdoyouwant?”Igrunt,innomoodtodealwithanyone,letaloneTheManILove.

“Ijustwantedtosaysorryaboutyour,um,incident.”Hesmilesalittle.

Myheartleaps,whichcausesfreshirritationtofloodmyveins.“Whatfor?Ifelledablackbelt.I’m
soproud.”Iglanceoverhisshoulder.DadisplayingdartswithJack,Luckyisshootingpoolwith
SantoandJake,MarkisorderinganotherJameson’s.Therearenootherwomeninourgroup.Just
goodoldChastity,oneoftheguys.

“Here’syourbeer,Trevor,”LindseytheKittensighs,squishingherboobsagainstTrevor ’schestas
shesetshisglassdownonthebar.“Doyouneedanythingelse?”

Ican’thelprollingmyeyes.“Nothanks,Linds,”Trevorsays.“Seeyoulater.”SexKittywiggles
away,practicallypurring.Andyes,Trevoriswatchinghergo.

Sincemynightispure,unadulterated,grade-A,madeinAmericacrapandnotlookingtogetbetter,I
decidetomakeitacleansweep.“Trevor,areyougettingbackwithHayden?”

Hismouthdropsopen.“Uh…no.No.Ijustranintoherattherace,that’sall.But,well,shedidmove

backtothearea.She’sinAlbany.”

Shit.“Butyou’renotseeingeachother?”

Heshakeshishead.

“Well,here’sthething.Iknowthiswomanfromwork.Verynice,veryattractive.Wanthernumber?”

Trevor ’seyebrowsshootup.“Excuseme?”

“DoyouwanttodateAngela,thefoodeditor?Shethinksyou’recute.”

Trevpauses.“Youokay,Chas?”

Irollmyeyes.“ForGod’ssake,Trevor,yesorno?”He’ssoclosethatIcansmellhissoap,cansee
thatheneedsashave,andifIleanedforwardjustalittle,Icouldrubmyowncheekagainsthis,then
lowermyheadtothecrookofhiswarmneckandkisstheskinthere.Bastard.“So?”Isnap.

“Sure,Iguessso,Chastity,”heanswersslowly,frowning.

“Great!I’lle-mailyouhernameandnumberandwhatever.Look,Ihavetorun.Buttercupneedsme.”
IslideoffthebarstoolandshovepastTrevor,whohasn’tmovedaninch.

“Chastity?”anewvoiceasks.

Myheadjerksaround.“Shit!”Iexclaim.

It’sRyan“theGroin”Darling.Theblooddrainsfrommyface,thenfloodsback.“Uh,um,hi,”I
stammer.“Um,howareyou?”

“Alittleswollen,”headmits.Ican’tsuppressagrimace.

Trevoriswatchingus.“Hi.I’mTrevorMeade.”

“RyanDarling.Nicetomeetyou.”

“Youworkatthehospital,don’tyou?”Trevorasks.

“Yes,”Ryananswers.“I’matraumasurgeon.”

“Okay.I’montheparamedicunitofEatonFallsFire,”Trevorsays.

“Right,”Ryansays.“Hello.”Heoffersnothingelse,andIcantellhedoesn’trememberTrevor.Well,
Iguessasurgeonwouldbeconcentratingonthepatient—onewouldhopeso,atanyrate.Butstill.Not
rememberingTrevorissomethingIcan’timagine.

“Chas,I’llseeyouaround.”TrevorlooksassessinglyatRyan.“Nicetoseeyou.”Hejoinstherestof
hisplatoonintheO’Neillbooth.

IturnbacktofaceRyan.“Again,I’mso,sosorry.”Closingmyeyes,Ishakemyhead.“Iguess

instinctjusttookover.”

“It’s…well,it’sagoodexampleofwhatItrytoteach,Isuppose.”Heattemptsasmile,andanother
waveadismaywashesoverme.Whyishehere?Alawsuit?AmIbeingarrestedforassaultand
battery?TheburningattractionIfeltforhimyesterdayseemslikeathingofthedistantpast.

“So…well,wouldyouliketohaveaseat?”Iask,gesturingtothestoolnexttome.

“Sure.”Heslidesgingerlyontothestool.

“Oh,crap,I’msorry.Wouldaboothbemorecomfortable?”Iblurt.“Orsomeice?Wouldyoulike
someice?”

Hegrins.“No,no,that’sfine.I’mhere.Mayaswellstay.”

Myfatheriseyingmesuspiciously.HemurmurssomethingtoJack,wholooksover,givesmea
reassuringchinjerk,thenturnsDadbacktothedartboard.ImakeamentalnotetobabysitJackand
Sarah’skidssoon.

“So,um,Ryan,right?”Asifhisnamewasn’tburnedintotheshamesectionofmysoulalready.“What
canIdoforyou?”

“Youneverdidtheinterview.Iwasherewithacolleague,sawyou,thoughtI’dcomeover.”

“Theinter—oh,right!”Iexclaim.“Ofcourse.Well,sure,I’dstilllovetodoit.”NotthatIthought
we’dbespeakingagain,ever,butcrap!

“Great.Iwashopingthatwasthecase.Andit’snotoftenIgettotalkwithawomanaftershebeatme
up.”

DearGodinheaven,he’sflirting.Isuckinanaudiblebreathofjoy.IwavetoStu,elationburstingin
myheartlikeableepingsunrise.“Well,howaboutadrink?”IaskRyan.“Idefinitelyoweyouadrink.
Possiblymore.”

“Adrinkwilldo,”heanswers,thensmiles.“Fornow.I’llhaveasinglemalt,ifyou’vegotit,”hetells
Stuasmytoesclenchinmyhigh-tops.

“Maclarenokay?”Stuasks,takingawaymyemptyScorpy.

“Thatwouldbegreat.”

“Howaboutyou,Chas?”Stusmiles.“AnotherScorp—”

“Water!Waterwouldbeperfect,Stu.Thankyou.”

Amillionthoughtsareflyingthroughmyhead.One,Godpitiesmeandisgivingmeanotherchance
withRyan.Two,mustuseinsidevoice.Three,Ryanisflirtingwithme!Andfour,theoneIlikethe
best,everyguyIknow—includingTrevor—iswatchingmechatwithaveryattractiveman.Very
attractive.

RyanacceptsthedrinkfromStuandturningtogivemethefullpowerofthecheekbones.“Sowhat
kindofananglewereyoulookingfor?”heasks.

“Well,youknow…um…”Mymindisblank.“Localpeoplewho,uh…”He’sstaringatmewiththose
greeneyes.I’vealwaysbeenasuckerforgreeneyes.“Localpeople…youknow…whoum…”

“Makeadifference?”hesuggests,alittlesmiletuggingatthecornerofhismouth.

“Yes!That’sit.Yup.Giveofthemselvesandallthat.”Itakeafewglugsofwatertobuysometimeand
getittogether.ThoughIhumiliatedhiminfrontofhisclassyesterday,RyanDarlingisstillthefirst
manwhoreallygrabbedmyinterestinalong,longtime.IwanttomakethebestimpressionI
possiblycan.Alittleforethought(andsobriety)woulddefinitelyhelp.

“Youknowwhat,Ryan?Ihatetodothis,butI’mwonderingifwecanreschedulethis.Idon’thavea
notepadormyquestionsoranything.”Ipause.Scorpytellsmetogoforit.“SinceIstillfeelbad
abouttheum,injury,howaboutIbuyyoudinnerandwecandotheinterviewthen?”

“Sure.I’dlovethat,”hesaysinstantly,andInearlyfalloffthestool.Hesaidyes!Yestome,the
O’Neillgirl,oneoftheguys.Mr.NewYorkTimesandIaregoingoutfordinner!

“Um,yikes,Ihaveplansthisweekend,”Isayregretfully.“HowaboutTuesdayorWednesday?”

“Thatshouldbefine,barringanyemergencysurgery.CanIhaveyourcellnumber?”Seeinghim
smilingatme,thosecheekbones,thosegreeneyes,asurrealcloudenvelopsme.Ihaven’tbeenthis
attractedtoaguyinalong,longtime.Maybe,justmaybe,Trevorisn’ttheonlyguyintown.

Weexchangenumbers,andItellhimI’llcallTuesdaymorningwiththedetails.ThenIdecidetoget
outofDodgebeforemyfatheroranyoftheotherguysdecidestojoinus.“I’msogladyou’re
feelingbetter,”Isaywithabsolutesincerity.“Andthanks.I’mreallylookingforwardtothe
interview.”

Islipatwentyundermywaterglass,saygoodnightandfleebeforemymenfolkrealizethathe-of-the-
battered-scrotumissittingintheirmidst.

BythetimeIgethome,myheadisclearerandmymood,needlesstosay,ismuchimproved.“Ihavea
date,Buttercup,”Itellmydogasshechargesme.Sheleaps,slobbers,collapsesandrollsoveronto
herback.“ExactlywhatI’mthinking,girl.Comeon.Let’sgoforadrag.”

Thenightairclearsmyhead.It’snotjustScorpy,butRyanDarlingwhoisfoggingit.Ihaveadate—
well,almostadate.Aninterview-date.IwillpumpAngelaforrecommendationsontheverycoolest,
mostintimaterestaurantaroundhere.

SpeakingofAngela,she’llbepleasedtohearthatTrevor ’sinterested.AsButtercupcrumplesonthe
Manleys’lawn,IdecidetobereallypleasedaboutTrevorandAngela.BetterAngethanPerfect
freakin’HaydenSimms.HaulingButtercuptoherfeetandluringherdowntheblockwithaSlimJim,
Imakearesolution:RyanDarlingisgoingtobethenewmaninmylifewhetherheknowsitornot.
Andhe’sgoingtoadoreme.

CHAPTERTHIRTEEN

O

N

S

ATURDAYNIGHT

,whenChristopher,AnnieandJennyarefinallyinbed(Ionlyhadtothreatenthe

useofducttapeonce),IcleanupthedevastationandinviteButtercuptojoinmeonthecouch.Surely
LukeandTarawon’tmindmygiantdogontheirfurniture,notaftertheirchildrenhavebeenso
lovinglycaredfor.Strokingmypup’senormousheadandthin,floppyears,Iletmyselfrelax,
wincingasthenewbruiseonmythightwinges.

Itwasafunday…weplayednotonlyBuckingBroncosandWildWildWolves,butalsoamarathon
gameofMonopoly,whichwehadtostopbecauseJennykepttryingtoeatthehotels.Wewentfora
hike,hadmilkshakesandburgersatthediner,madeaLincolnLogzooandwatchedFindingNemo.
ThenIpretendedtobeagiantbabyandstaggeredaroundthehousebellowing“Dada!Mama!Feed
me!”whiletheoldertwoclutchedthemselvesandweptwithlaughter.Suppertime(chickennuggets
shapedlikedinosaurs,quitedelicious),bathtime,storytime,jumponAuntietime,callMommyand
Daddytime,bedtimeforthegirls,anothergameofMonopoly(thespeedversion),andfinally,
bedtimeforChristopher.

Idon’tthinkIwasthistiredafterIrantheNewYorkCitymarathon,quitehonestly.IhurtinplacesI
didn’tknowIhad.Somuchforrowingbeingtheultimatesport.Motherhoodhasitbeat.AndIgetto
doitagaintomorrow.ButIfindthatI’msmiling.Jennylookedsocuteinhercrib,herlittlerump
stickingupintheair.Annie,whoisquiteademonchild,wasdownrightangelicwithexhaustion,
clingingtomeasIputhertobed.AndChris,well,he’sjustagreatkidingeneral.Noonegotso
muchasaboo-boo,luckily.

Actually,theonlytimeIdon’tfreakoutaroundbloodiswhenakidishurt.Lastyear,Grahamfelland
cuthislip,andIwasquitecompetentadministeringiceandHersheykisses,theO’Neillcureforany
injury.Once,Clairescrapedherkneeprettybadlywhenwewereridingbikes,andifmyhandsshook
alittleasIblotted,Icertainlydidn’tpassout.Granted,Oliviareducedmetojellywiththatloosetooth
ofhers,butifshe’dactuallybeenhurtandneededme,IthinkIwould’vebeenokay.It’snicetothink
thatmymaternalinstinctsoutweighmybloodphobia.

Buttercupsighs,herjowlsfluttering.“Who’sagoodbaby?”Icroon,andhertailwhipsthecouchfour
times.She’sonlyapuppystill,abouttenmonthsold,butsheactslikeshe’sahundredandfour,ifyou
askme,lyingaroundallday,heronlyactivityrollingontoherbackforatummyscratch.“Idon’t
mind,”Itellher,pullingherearsupjustforfun.Shelookslikeacrossbetweenadoganda
jackrabbit,veryugly,veryscience-gone-wrong.“Ithinkyou’refabulous.Unique.Oneofakind.”I
pullherjowlsoutfromherface.Shesnuffleshappily.“Who’saprettygirl?Hm,Butter-boo-boo?”
Drawingherearstogetherunderherchin,IdecideshelookslikeAuntJemima.

Thephonerings,butIhadthepresenceofmindtobringitwithmesoastoavoidunnecessary
movement.“Super-nanny,goodevening,”Isay,expectingLucky.

“Hey,Chastity.”It’sTrevor.

Iglanceattheclockonthemantel—nineforty-fiveonaSaturdaynight.I’msurprisedhedoesn’thave
adate.“Hi,Trev.Howareyou?”

“I’mgood.How’sitgoingoverthere?Youstillinonepiece?”

“Justaboutsixteenhourstogo,andIcancheckintoaclinic,knockbackacoupleoftransfusionsand
I’llbefine,”Isay,gratifiedtohearhimlaugh.Buttercupsighsagain,andIrunmyfingerdownher
silkyjowls.“Sowhat’sup,Trev?”

Hepauses.“Well,Iwaswonderingifyouhadthatnumber.Forthefoodlady?”

IreleasethebreathIdidn’trealizeIwasholding.“Right.Let’ssee.AngelaDavies.555-1066.”

“That’sprettycool,”hesays.“Howyouremembernumberslikethat.”

“BattleofHastings,1066.WilliamtheConquerorinvadesBritain.”

Helaughs.“Veryimpressive.Doyouknowmine?”

IhavenevercalledTrevordirectly,soIcan’tcoptothefactthatyes,infactIdo.Thatinaweak
moment—well,aweakmonth,really—IGoogledhim,readeveryEatonFallsGazettearticleinthe
pastfiveyearsthatmentionedhisname(therewerethree),andthatImemorizedhisphonenumberthe
veryfirsttimeIfirstsawitonSwitchboard.com.555-1021.Tentwenty-one.Octobertwenty-first,
whichisSweetheartDay,ifyoucanbelieveit.OfcourseIremember.AndnotonlydoIknowhis
damnphonenumber,butalsohisaddress,whichispermanentlyburnedintomybrain.

“Yournumber?Um,no,”Ilie,realizingthepausehasgoneontoolong.“Idon’tactually.”

“555-1021.Justfortherecord.”

“Gotcha.”Idon’tseemtobeabletothinkofanythingelsetosay.

Hepauses,too.“Areyougoingoutwiththatguy,Chas?”

“Ryan?”Iask,asifthere’smorethanonetochoosefrom.

“Yeah.”

“Actually,yes.We’rehavingdinnernextweek,”Ianswer.“Butit’sworkrelated.Aninterview.You
know.”Justincaseyouwanttojumpinhere,Trev,andaskmeoutinsteadofAngela….

“Oh,”Trevorsays.“Well,heseemednice.”

“Yeah.Youbet.He’snice,”Ibabble.

“Okay,Chas.Well,thanksforAngela’snumber.”

“Sure,buddy,”Isay,lettingmyheadfallagainstthebackofthecouch.“Knockyourselfout.”

“Haveagoodnight,Chas.”

Ikeepthephoneagainstmyearforaminute,eventhoughhe’shungup,thencallElaina.

“What’sup,querida?”sheasks,chewingonsomethingcrunchy.

“I’mgoingoutwiththedoctorIkickedinthenuts,”Isay,tryingtoreplacetheimageofTrevor ’sface
withthatofRyan’s.

“Great!Wow,Chas!I’veseenhimaroundthehospital.”Elainaisapediatricnurse.“He’snevereven
lookedatme,youknow,andnottotootmyownhorn,I’mprettyhot,right?”

“Sohot.”Ilaugh.

“Andhedoesn’tdateanyoneinthehospital,thatIknow,sinceit’sallanyoneonthatfloorcantalk
about.Andhe’sfreakin’gorgeous,youknow?Thisisfantastic.”Shepausesinherbabbling.“You
stillthere?”

“Yup.”

Shepauses.“Sowhat’stheproblem,then?”

Idon’tanswerforamoment.“There’snoproblem,”Isayfirmly.

“Shit,Chastity,”shesighs.“It’snotstillTrevor,isit?”

It’slikeapunch,really,tohearitsaidoutloudlikethat.“Well,”Ibegin.Myvoicedropstoawhisper
sinceit’seasiertosaythesethingssoftly.“Idosortofstillhavefeelingsforhim.He’s…hewasmy
firstlove,remember?”Buttercup,atleast,issympathetic,stretchingoutamassivepawandrestingit
onmyshoulderwithagroan.

“Yeah,well,Markwasmyfirstloveandlookhowfuckinghappyweare,youknow?Listen,Trevor ’s
great,okay?He’sDylan’sgodfather,forPete’ssake.Buthehasissues,youknow?”Shepauses.“And
he’shadchances,too,youknowwhatI’msaying?”

Icertainlydo.“Yeah.No,you’reright,Lainey,you’reright.IguessI’vejustbeenseeinghimaround
alotmorethanI’musedto.”Iswallow.“Whatever.Anyway,I’mdatingDr.Good-Looking.Well,it’s
aninterview.ButIfeellikeit’sadate.”

“Sowhatdidhesay,thisDr.Delicious?Tellme!”

Itellher.Ievenworkupgenuineenthusiasm,becauseRyanreallyisagreatprospect.AndIdon’t
thinkofTrevoragain.Hardlyatall.

CHAPTERFOURTEEN

“T

HISISMYTHIRDDATE

withH

ARRY

.Whatdoyouthink?Timeforsex?”

“Mom!Comeon!Leavemealone.”

“Chastity,you’resuchaprude.”

“Mom,younamedmeChastityVirginia,okay?IfI’maprude,it’spartlyyourfault.”

“Thatwasyourfather ’schoice.IwastoobusythankingGodyouweren’tanotherboytonotice.”

Ismile.“Well,atanyrate,don’tgototheBlueMoontonight,okay?BecauseI’mgoingtheretonight.
Withthedoctor.Pleasedon’tcome.”

“Oh,that’sright!”Momcrowstriumphantly.“Thathandsomedoctor!How’shisgroin?”

“I—Idon’tknow.Ithinkit’sbetter,”Ianswer,grittingmyteeth.“JustmakesureyouandHarrydon’t
gothere,okay?DonotcometotheBlueMoontonight.Areweclear?”

“Yes,Chastity.I’mnotanidiot.”Shesighs.“Yourfatherisveryunhappy,ofcourse.”

Isigh,glancingatthestoryonmyscreenthatmustbeeditedandchoppedbyseventy-fivepercent.
Thefreelancerwhowroteitrefusestoacceptthefive-hundred-wordlimitI’vegivenher,andas
fascinatingatthechurchbakesalemaybe,it’snotgettingfourteencolumninches.“Dadlovesyou,
Mom.”

“Well,that’snotthepoint.”

“YousureyouwanttobewithsomeoneotherthanDad?Haveyoureallythoughtthisthrough,
Mom?”IaskasgentlyasIcan,deletingparagraphsseventhroughtwenty-threeofthebakesalestory.

There’snosoundfromtheotherend.Badsign.“Mom?”

“He’spromisedmefourtimesthathe’dretire,andeachtime,somethingcameupthatpreventedhim
fromdoingit.JimmyTroianowasoutwithabackinjury.Thenewhiresweren’tsettled.Thepension
planwasbeingreworked.”Shesighswithgusto.“IgotmarriedwhenIwastwenty-oneyearsold,
Chastity.Iwaschangingdiapersformorethanadecadewithoutasingleday’sbreak.Doyouknow
howmanytimesIhadtotakeyoukidstotheE.R.?Icountedtheotherday.Twenty-ninetimes,
Chastity.Ihadgrandchildrenbeforemybabywasevenoutofcollege.”

“Iunderstand,Mom,but—”

Butnothing.She’sonaroll.“No!Youdon’tunderstand,Chastity.”HervoiceisGeneralPatton–firm.
“Ilovedbeingmothertoallyoukids,Iadoremygrandchildren,butI’mattheagewhereIwantmy
lifetorevolvearoundsomethingotherthanmyoffspring!Ihaveinterests!Ihavedesires,Chastity!”

“I’mglad,Mom,but—”

“IsitsowrongtowanttodothingsjustbecauseIwantto?Totravelandhavefunandjustdothings
becausetheysoundinteresting?”

“It’s—”

“Oh,honey,Idon’tmeantoyellatyou.AtleastIcantellyouthings.Theboysdon’twanttohearit.”

Don’twanttohearthatourmotherisplanningtosleepwithhernewboyfriend?Can’timaginewhy
not!“Look,Mom,Iloveyouandyouknowwhat?AllIwantistobelikeyou.”

“Don’tbesilly,Chastity.”

“Imeanit,Mom,”Itellher.“You’reanincrediblemotherandexceptforthecooking,youmadea
wonderfulhome.We’reallcrazyaboutyou.Lookatus!Fivekidsandnotonelivesmorethanfifteen
milesaway.”

“WhichIthinkispathetic,bytheway,”sheinterrupts.

Ilaugh.“Okay.Soweneverwereabletocutthecord.Butjustmakesureyoureallywantwhatyou
thinkyouwant.That’sall.”

“Well.Thankyou,dear.”Shepauses,mollified.“SoyouwantustocometotheBlueMoon?”

“No!Listencarefully,Mom.DonotcometotheBlueMoon.Don’tcome.NoBlueMoon.”

“Fine,honey!Youdon’thavetotreatmelikeachild,youknow.”

Grindingmyteeth,Ihangup,finishthebake-salepiece,thencheckthestoryontheeffectsoftoolittle
snowthispastwinterandposteverythingontheWebsite.Mydayisdone.

AsmentionedtoMommyDearest,tonightismybigdatewithRyanDarling.Angelarecommended
theBlueMoon,whichjustopenedacrosstheHudsoninJurgenskill.Sherevieweditlastmonthand
founditspectacular,cozy,elegantandverypricey.Hopefully,Icanputitonmyexpenseaccount,
sincethisisaninterview,afterall.

IflyhomeandtakeButtercupout.Sheseemstohavemorepepthesedays.Maybeshejustneededto
liveinthemountains,Imuse,watchinghertrotdownthestreetinfrontofme.Shesniffsthepostofa
mailbox,crouchestopeeandcontinuesonhermerryway.“Comeon,sweetie!”Icall.“Mommyhasa
date.Mascaramustbeapplied.”Hertailslicesthroughtheair,andshelumberstowardme,ears
flopping.“Whoknows,Buttercup?”Isay.“Maybeyou’llbegettingadaddy.”

“S

OHAVEYOUALWAYSDONE

martialarts?”Iask.

“Yes,”Ryananswerswithasmile.“IstartedwhenIwassix,gotmyblackbeltatfourteenandwason
theteamincollege.”

ItseemslikeI’monthesetofamovie.TheBlueMooniseverythingAngelasaiditwouldbe…cozy,

quiet,classy,filledwithshiny-hairedpatronsandsoft-spokenstaff.Candlesflickeronthetable,the
wineisexcellent,themanacrossfrommeisgorgeousandwhenhesmilesatme,awarmcurlof
pleasurewrapsaroundmystomach.

Thenightisgoingsowell.Myhaircameoutgreat.Ilookfeminineandappropriateinalow-cutbut
notsluttywhitesilkblouseandblue-and-whiteprintskirt,oneoftheitemsElainaforcedmetobuy.
Flats,ofcourse,thoughnotmybelovedredhigh-tops.Cutelittleballetflats.RyanistallerthanIam,
soheelswouldshattermyillusionofbeingadelicateflower.WhenIwalkedintotherestaurant,Ryan
wasalreadywaiting,lookingliketheNewYorkTimesfashionmodelthatIfirstimaginedhimtobe.
Hekissedmycheekandheldthechairforme.Definitelysurreal.I’mprettysurewehaveafuture.

Focus,Chastity.Youdoneedtointerviewhimbeforenamingthechildren.

“Andwheredidyougotoschool?”Iask.

“Harvardundergrad,Yalemedical.”

“Soyoucouldn’tgetintothegoodschools,”Isaydeadpan.

“Thosearegoodschools,”hesays,frowning.“Verygoodschools.”

“Iwasjust…well.Yes.Thebest.”Okay,sohe’searnest.Anicequality.

“I’msorry,”Ryansays.“Youwerejoking.Myfault.Imusthaveleftmysenseofhumoratthe
hospital.Sorry.”

“Oh,no,notall.”Ismile.“You’reasurgeon,correct?”

“Traumasurgeon,”heacknowledgeswithamodestsmile.IfeelthatI’msupposedtobeevenmore
impressed,buthey,hehadmeatHarvard.

“Whydidyoudecidetoteachaself-defenseclass,Ryan?”Iask,takingasipoftheverylovelywine
heordered.

“Well,yousee,Chastity,”hesays,hisexpressionbecomingveryintense,“I’vealwaysbeen
committedtowomen’ssafety.”

“Hm,”Isay.

“Mostwomenjustdon’tknowhowtoprotectthemselves,”hecontinues.

“How’syourgroin,bytheway?”Iask,glancingupfrommynotebook.

Hepauses,thensmiles.“Fine.”

“Good.”Igrinandglancebackdownatmynotebook.Justwantedtoremindhimwhohe’sdealing
with.

Hegoeson,tellingmeabouthisdesiretogivebacktothecommunity,sharehisknowledge,etcetera.

Standardenoughstuff.I’mmoreinterestedinhowhiseyelashescatchthelight.He’sverysincere,
frowningslightlyashetalks,speakinginlong,well-formedsentenceslacedwithimpressive
vocabularyandanexcellentgraspofgrammaticalconcepts.

“Doyouhavesisters?”Iask,wonderingifthere’ssomethingmorethatdriveshisdesiretoempower
women.Notthatit’sabaddesireoranything,buthe’scomingacrossasalittlebit…well,
condescending.Ofcourse,he’sasurgeon,sothismaywelljustgowiththeterritory.Add
Harvard/Yaleintothemix,andIsupposeit’sinevitable.

“Yes,Ido.MysisterWendy.”

“Wendy?”Iaskwithagrin.“Yoursister ’snameisWendyDarling?”

“Yes,”hesays,cockinghishead.“Why?Doyouknowher?”

“EveryoneknowsWendyDarling.”Hefrowns,puzzled.“FromPeterPan,”Iexplain.“WendyMoira
AngelaDarling.”Isingasnatchofthefamoussong.“‘Wendy,Michael,John…Tinkerbell,comeon!
I’mflyyyy…ing!’”Ryanblinks.“Well.FromPeterPan.”

“Ididn’tknowthat,”Ryansays,buthechuckles,entertained.“Youhaveanicevoice,Chastity.”

“That’sthefirsttimeI’veheardthat,”Imurmur.

“Atanyrate.Doyouhavemorequestionsforme?”

“Um…IthinkI’vegotenoughhere.”

“Sotheinterview’sover?”Heseemsalittledisappointed.

“Unlessthere’sanythingelseyou’dliketotellme,”Ioffer.

Hesitsback,studyingme.Man,thoseeyes.“No.ButIhopeyoudon’thavetorushoff.”

Ismiledemurely,suppressingawarcryofvictory.“No,notatall.Shallweorderdinner?”

Weorderandexchangetheusualinformation,wherewegrewup,family,workexperience,thelike.
Hislifereadslikearésuméforhusband,honestly.Sportsasakid.Stablefamilyenvironment.
Communityservicethroughchurch.Stellareducation.Impressivecareer.Andhey!Let’sbehonest.
He’sbleepingbeautiful!AsIlistentohiswell-modulatedvoice,mytoescurlinmyflats.Ican’tquite
believeI’msittingacrossfromhim.

Ryanasksmeaboutmyniecesandnephews,andwhenI’mdonerecitingtheirnames,Iaskhimthe
samequestion.

“I’mafraidnot.Mysisterandherhusbandarechildlessbychoice,”heanswers.“ButI’dliketohavea
family.Whataboutyou?Doyouwantkidssomeday?”

Iblinkinsurprise.Nottheusualfirst-datetalk!IwasjustabouttoasktheYankees-Metsquestion.
“Well,youknow,Icomefromabigfamily,andyes,I’ddefinitelyliketohavekidssomeday.”

“Good.”Hesmilesbroadly,showingmeperfectwhiteteeth.“Ithinkit’sgoodtoknowthatweboth
wantthesamethingbeforewegettooserious,don’tyou,Chastity?Iwouldn’twanttospendthree
monthsdating,onlytofindoutthatyoudon’teverwanttogetmarriedorhaveafamily.”

“Um,right,sure,”Istammer.ThenIgetaholdofmyselfandsmileback.“Yes.Verysmart.”

“Iknowthisisofficiallyaninterview,Chastity,”hesays,“butIhavetosay,I’dlikeustoseeeach
otheragain.Onadate.Ithinkthere’spotentialhere.”

DaddyandImetwhenIkneedhiminthegroin,mylittleDarlings….“That’s…well,that’savery
directapproach,Ryan.”Ilaughalittle,andhesmilesback.Hehasabeautifulsmile.Andifhe’salittle
straightforward,whocares?He’sright.Let’scuttothechase.“Thankyou.Thatsoundsverynice,
Ryan.”

“Hi,Chastity,”saysafamiliarsoftvoice.IturntoseeAngela,themaîtred’andTrevor.Mystomach
drops.AngelaandTrevor.

“Hey!Hi,Ange!Hi,Trevor!”Iseemtobeblinkingrapidly.“Guys,thisisRyanDarling.Ryan,Ithink
youmetAngelaattheclass,andoh,yeah,youmetTrevoratEmo’slastweek.”

“Nicetoseeyouagain,”RyanmurmurstoAngela,thenshakeshandswithTrevor.

“Ididn’tknowyouwerecominghere,too,”Isay.Itsoundsalittlerude.“Imean,itwasagreat
recommendation.”Calmdown,Chastity,Itellmyself.YouroldpalTrevorisonadate.Bigdeal.He’s
notwithPerfectHayden;atleastthere’sthat.

“Well,whenTrevorheardI’drecommendedthisplace,hethoughtitsoundedgreat,”Angela
murmurs.“How’syourdinnersofar?”Hercheeksareflushed.

“Wehaven’teatenyet.Wouldyouliketojoinus?”Ryanofferspolitely.Themaîtred’frownseverso
slightly.

No!Myheartispoundingawayatmyribslikeajackhammer.

“Oh,no,that’sokay,”Trevoranswerssmoothly,lookingatme.“Wejustwantedtosayhi.”We.
“Enjoyyourdinner.Seeyouaround,Chastity.”

“Yeah!Sure.Bye.Enjoy.”Irollmyeyesatmyselfandtakeadeepbreath.

“Isthatoneofyourbrothers?”Ryanasksastheywalkaway.

“Notexactly,”Isay,thenforcemyselftosmileatmydate.“Trevor ’sanoldfriend.Friendofthe
family.Andme.Afriendofmine,too,sincechildhood.”Stoptalking.Stop.Talking.

“Oh,Isee,”Ryansays.Hetiltshisheadtooneside.“So,Chastity,doyoureadalot?”

“Ido,Ryan,”Ianswer,goingontodescribethelatestbookIread,which,luckyforme,happenstobe
somethingcoolanderuditeandnotoneofmyLordoftheRingscomicbooks.TrevorandAngelasit
threetablesaway,justcloseenoughformetocatchanoccasionalphrase.

EavesdroppingisaprizedO’Neilltalent.Asurvivalskill,really,sincealltheimportantand
fascinatingthingsinlife—sex,money,crime—weretoldinwhisperedvoicesawayfromUsKids.
Throwmyjournalistbackgroundinthemix,andIamamaster,quitecapableofcarryingonone
conversationwhilesimultaneouslytuninginandoutofanother.IaskRyanwhathelikestoread(alas,
theansweris“medicaljournals,”thoughthat’sprobablyaplusforhispatients),butIcan’thelp
myself.I’mfocusingonTrevorandAngela.They’retalkingfood,withanicesegintoAngela’swork
asafoodreviewer…Heck,Ididn’tknowshewenttotheCulinaryInstitute!

“Yes,IspentayearinParis,actually.Ilovedit,”IsayinanswertoaRyanquestion.AndnowTrevand
Angelahavemovedontofamily…kindmentionoftheO’NeillclanfromTrevor,counteredby
Angela’slistingoftwosisters…oh,andhe’stellingheraboutMichelle,really,it’ssuchapersonal
andpainfulsubject,I’malittlesurprised.

“Ineverdidlearntosail,no,butIdolovewatersports.Iroweveryday,andIgokayakingonceina
while.Howaboutyou,Ryan?”

Damnit.Trevorislaughing,andImissedthejoke.Well.Almostwithavengeance,Iturnmyfull
attentiontoRyan,whohasn’tnoticedthatit’swavering.AsIsaid,I’mgoodatthis.Trevorisleaning
forwardtocatchwhateverAngelaissaying,andIleanforward,too.

Justthen,Ryan’scellphonebuzzes.Heglancesatit,thenfrowns.“Excuseme,Chastity.I’msosorry.
It’sthehospital.Thiswillonlytakeaminute.”Hestandsup,touchesmyshoulderandwalkstothe
foyer.

Thewaiterbringsthebruschettaweordered,and,forcingmyselfnottolookinthedirectionof
TrevorandAngelaandtryingtoturnoffmyeavesdroppingskills,Ipickupapiece.It’sfantastic,and
I’mstarving.Thebreadiswarmbutnottoocrisp,thetomatoessucculent,thebasilfresh.Ilookatthe
ceiling,atthetable,atmypurse.JustnotatTrev.

Ipickupanotherpieceofbruschetta,andjustasIopenmymouthforabite,achunkofthetopping
fallsoffthebreadandlandsrightonmysilkywhiteblouse.Rightontheleftbreast.Idashthetomato
bitaway—itleavesastreakofoliveoilandabitofchoppedbasil.Iswishagain,quickly,butthebasil,
whichisaboutthesizeofoneofthoselittleroundwatchbatteries,stays.

Directlyovermynipple.

Andtheotherthingis,it’salittlecoldinhere.Yougettheidea.Ihaveablobofgreenonmychilly
nipple.

“Shit,”Imutter,dabbingwithmynapkin.Thebasilisstuckasifit’sbeensupergluedon.Glancing
back,IcanseethatRyanisstilltalkingonthephone.Good.Fine.Atleasthecan’tseethis.Idabagain,
butthebasilfleckdoesn’tcomeoff.

Mycheeksflushwithembarrassment.IfTrevor—oranyoneelsewithinfiftyyards—issoinclined,he
canhaveaperfectviewofmyfauxpas.Isneakaglance.Trevislisteningintently,hisbeautifuldark
eyessmilingatAngela,butheseemstofeelmygaze.Ashiseyesshifttome,Iautomaticallyjerkmy
armawkwardlyovertheoffendingbreast.HelooksbackatAngela,andIletoutasighofrelief.

“I’msosorry.”Ryansitsbackdown.

“Excuseme,”Iblurt.“I’llbebackinaflash.”Clearly,Ican’tsithereacrossfromHarvard/Yalewith
somebasilonmynipple.Keepingmyleftarmangledawkwardlyacrossmybreast,Igrabmypurse
andfleeforthebathroom,racingpastTrevorandAngelaenroute.

Safeintheloo,Iholdmywhiteblouse—ofcourse,ithadtobewhite—awayfrommychestand
scratchatthetenaciousbasil.Itdoesn’tmove,sittingtherelikeaneye.“Comeon!”Iexclaim,
scratchingharder.

It’samistake.

InsteadofflickingoffasIhadhoped,thebasilhasbecomepulverized.“Oh,crap,”Imoan.Now,
insteadofasmallgreenleaffragment,I’vegotagreenstaindirectlyovermynipple,asifI’m
lactatingpesto.

Grabbingacoupleofpapertowels,Irunthemunderhotwateranddabatmybreast.Bigmistake.The
greenremainsbutisnowspreadingwithhelpfromthewater.“Comeon,”Imutter.Thewhiteblouse
iswet,mybraisbeige,it’sevenchillierhereinthebathroom.Yougetthepicture.Lookinginthe
mirror,Iseewhatseemstobeabrightgreen,anatomicallycorrectnipple.

“Damnit,”Isaythroughgrittedteeth.Maybedry,itwillbelessevident.Isthereanairdryerinthis
bathroom?Ilookarounddesperately.No.Ofcoursenot.I’mstuckwiththegrainybrownpaper
towels.Whydidn’tIbuythathandylittlebleachpenI’veseenoncommercials?Imeantto!Ireally
did.

Ihavetwooptions.OneistocoptothestainandbasicallyorderRyanandeveryotherhumaninrange
tostareatmynipple.Theotheristogethelp.Ioptforhelp.Angela,whoisorganized,smartand
thoughtful,willknowwhattodo.Maybeshe’llevenhavethebleachpen.I’lljustflagherdownand
we’llthinkofsomething.

Yankingopenthebathroomdoor,InearlycrashintoTrevor.

“Hey,”hesays.“Wereyoutryingtotellmesomething?Youlooked…”Hisvoicetrailsoffashe
glancesdown.“Oops.”

“Shit,Trevor!Ihaveastain.”

“Yes,Icanseethat,”hemurmurs,stillstaringatmybreast.

“So?Doyouhaveableachpenorsomething?”

“What’sableachpen?”

“Stopstaring!Howaboutajacket?DoyouhaveajacketIcanwear?”

“HowaboutifIaskthemaîtred’iftheyhavesomething?Yousaidableachpencil?”Hedragshis
eyesuptomineandsmilesreassuringly.

“Yes!Goodidea,Trev.Bleachpen.Godblessyou.Andstopsmiling,okay?I’mdyinghere!Canyou
tellRyanIhadtotakeacall?Anemergencycall?ShouldweaskAngelatohelpus?”

Trevorputshishandsonmyshoulders.“Calmdown,Chas.”Hegrins.“I’llberightback.”

Iskulkbackintothebathroomandlookatmyselfinthemirror.There’smychillygreennipple.
Hello,EatonFalls!

Aminutelater,Trevorknocks.“Here.Isthiswhatyouweretalkingabout?”Hehandsmeabottleof
CloroxClean-Up.

“Thiswilldo.Thanks,Trev.You’realifesaver.”Iclosethedooragain,thenyankitopen.“Didyou
tellRyanthatIhadtotakeacall?”

“Yes,”Trevorsays,hiseyeswanderingdowntoTheStain.

“Great.”Iclosethedooragain,aimthespraybottleatmybreastandpullthetrigger.Nothingcomes
out.“Goddamnit!”Myvoiceechoesoffthetilewalls.

“Youokay?”Trevor ’sstillontheothersideofthedoor.

Twistingthenozzlearoundtothesprayposition,Itryagain.Nothing.“Ican’tgetittowork,Trev.”

“Here,”Trevorsays,pushingopenthedoor.“Letmetry.”

Hestandsinfrontofme,takesthebottlefrommyhandandstudiesit.“Youjusthavetoturnthisto
unlockit,”hesays.Heslideshishandundermyblouse.“Sorry,”hemuttersashisknucklesbrush
againstme.Hisglanceflickstomine,thenbackdown.Mymouthdriesup.Everypartofmebuzzes
withlust.Mykneesarepudding.Iswallow.Oh,Trevor,dothatagain.Hepullstheshirtawayfromme
alittleandtriesthenozzle.

Icanfeelthewarmthfromhishand,whichisjustaboutaninchfrommyskin.Fromthechillynipple.
Ilickmylips,wantingtoignorethefactthatTrevor ’shandisundermyshirt—itdoesn’tmean
anything,he’sjusthelpingme—butdamnit!Trevor ’shandisundermyshirt!

“Okay.Closeyoureyes,”hesays.

Iobey,myeyesflutteringtoaclose.Icanfeelmycheeksburning.

Trevorpullsthetrigger.Nothing.

“Huh,”Trevorsays,frowningfirstatthenozzle,thenthestain.

“Youneedtosqueezeitharder,”Irasp,mykneesshaking.

Helooksup.“Squeezewhat,exactly?”heasks,grinning.

“Thenozzle,Trev!”MyvoicecomesoutlouderthanIexpect,bouncingoffthetilewalls.“Comeon!
Squeezeharder!”

“I’msqueezing,Chas!”

“MaybeIshouldduckinastall,takeoffmyshirtandwecandoitthatway,”Isuggest,runningahand
throughmyhair.

There’salittlesqueakfromthedoorway,whichispartiallyopen.Anolderwomanisfrozenin
horror,staringatuswithhermouthopen.

“We’realittlebusyhere,”Trevorsays.Sheflees,herpinkjacketflappingbehindher.

That’sit.I’mlaughingsoharditjustcomesoutasabreathywheeze.Istaggerbackagainstthesink,
clappingahandovermybreast.Trevorcovershiseyeswithhisfreehand,laughingtoo,awonderful,
unabashed,utterlyhappysoundthatmakesmyheartswell.

“Shit,Trevor,”Ichokeout.“MaybeIshouldjustleavethroughthebackdoor.”

“No,no,”hemanages,calmingdown.Hewipeshiseyeswithhishand,smilingatme.“Wecando
this.You’reonadatewithaniceguy,andwedon’twanttoblowit.Don’tworry,Chas.We’llgetit.”
Heunscrewstheentirenozzlefromthebottle,poursalittleCloroxonapapertowelandbendsover
todabatmyblouse.“Ihadnoideastainremovalcouldbesomuchfun,”hemurmurs,hismouth
pullingupatthecorner.

Mygrinfades.Iwanthimtosay,Sure,let’sgo.I’lljusttellAngelaIhadtorun,andyouandIcanget
apizzaandgobacktomyplace.Instead,hewantsmydatewithRyantowork.Bastard.Jerk.Prince.
DoeshehavetobesuchaBoyScout?

“There,”Trevorsays.“See?Thegreenisjustaboutgone.Itlooksprettygood.Justdryoffalittle,
andyou’llbefine.”Hestraightensupandsmiles.Icanseeintothedepthsofhiseyes,thoselovely
warmhot-fudgeeyes.

“Thanks,”Isay,myvoicealittlestrained.

“You’rewelcome,”heanswers,hisvoicelowering.Hedoesn’tsayanythingmoreforthreefull
heartbeats.Thenhestepsbackandthemomentisgone.

Iclearmythroat.“You’rethebest,Trevor.Ifthefirefightingthingdoesn’tworkout,youcould
alwaysopenalaundromatorsomething.”

It’slame,buthesmiles.“Hey,Angela’sgreat,bytheway.Reallynice.”

“Oh,yeah,she’ssonice.”

“Okay.Haveagoodnight.”Heturnsandleavesthewomen’sroom.

Ifinishup.Mybreastisdampbutnolongergreen,andafteraminutescrubbingwithpapertowels,
myanatomyisnolongerquitesoobvious.Iwashmyhandsandsigh,lookingatmyselfinthemirror.
“RyanDarling,”Imurmur.“Ryan.Myboyfriend’sadoctor,actually.Hello.Thisismyhusband,Ryan.
He’sgreat.Sothoughtful.Sosmart.Andhaveyoueverseensuchcheekbones?You’retellingme.”

WhenIreturntomyseat,IfindthatI’mmorethanabletoignoreTrevor,andifIseehimsmilingin
mydirectionoutofthecornerofmyeye,Ihardlyevennotice.

CHAPTERFIFTEEN

“S

OWHATHAPPENEDHERE

?”Ernestoasks,gazingdownatmewithconcern.

“Iwasstruckbylightning,”Igroan.Peekingupfrombetweenmylashes,IseeErnestostrugglenotto
laugh.

“Areyouinanypain?”heasks.

“Yes.Incrediblepain,”Imurmur.“Ithurtsallover.Andmyeyesarebleeding.Pleasehelpme.”

Ernestosnortsandinflatesthebloodpressurecuffsoittightensaroundmyarm.Hereleasesthevalve
andwaits…“Ahundredandtwooverfifty?Isthatpossible?”heasks,frowningatthedial.

“Irow,”Istateproudly.

“Really!IsthatyouIseedownontherivereverymorning?Aboutsixo’clock?”

IripoffthecuffandputitaroundErnesto’sbiceps.“That’sme,buddy.Youshouldtryit.It’sfun.”

“I’dloveto.”

“I’llgiveyoualesson,”Isay,squeezingthelittlebulb.“NowbequietsoIcandothis.”Iputthe
stethoscopeinmyearsandwait.“One-thirty-threeovereighty-six,pal.Timetodropafewpounds
andstartexercising.I’llexpectyoutomorrowmorningatfive-thirty,thelittleboathouseattheendof
BankStreet.”

“Soyou’rethebossytype,Isee,”Ernestomurmurssuggestively.

“Andyoulikebossy?”Iask,grinning.

“I’mmarried.OfcourseIlikebossy,”heanswers,pattingmyarm.“Youseriousabouttherowing?
Mywife’sbeenaftermetoexercise.”

“Sure!It’llbefun.”Iripoffthecuffwithgreatflourish.

“Okay,goodwork,people!”Bevhollers.“Packitinandgetoutofhere.O’Neill,canIseeyou
privately?”

Myhumorevaporates.IsuspectI’mintrouble.

I’mright.

BevwaitstillPamshutsthedoorbehindher.“O’Neill,Iheardaboutyourride-along.”

Icringe,shesighs.“Yousureyouwanttofinishthisclass?”sheasksgently.

“Look,Iknowtheride-alongdidn’tgothatwell,”Ibegin.

“Disastrous,O’Neill.Fuckingdisastrous.”

“Okay.Yes,disastrous.”

Aspartofthecourse,we’rerequiredtotagalongwithanambulancecrewforafewhours.Ernesto
wentfirstanddidfine.Anasthmatickidwhoneededtobetransported.Comeon.Pieceofcake.Then
Ursulawent.Chestpain.Bigdeal.Thenwasmyturn.

Itrytoexplainnow.“Itwasaprettyintensecall,that’sall.Myfirsttime,Bev.I’lldobetternexttime.”

“Look,kid,noteveryoneiscutoutforthiskindofwork.That’sallI’msaying.”

“Ididn’tfaint,though.Thatwasgood,Ithought.Progress.”

Bevnarrowshereyes.“Youdroppedthebagonherleg,Chastity.Herbrokenleg.”

Ibowmyhead.“Right.That…thatwas…bad.”

Ipanicked.It’snothardtounderstandwhy.Weweresummonedtoanapartmentbuilding.Atthe
bottomofthestairswasabrokenplate,thepiecesominousandsinister.Thenwesawtheblood,atrail
thatledupthestairs.Apparently,thewomanhadtakenaheaderdownthestairs,rippedopenherarm
andbrokenherankle.Thenshecrawledupthestairsandsomehowmanagedtocall911.

Iwashyperventilatingbeforeweevengottoher.Andthen,comeon!Muscleandtendonwerebulging
outofherblood-soakedarm,heranklewasturnedatanimpossible,freakishangle,practically
rotatedonehundredandeightydegrees.ItwaslikesomethingoutofTheExorcist,forcryingout
loud!OfcourseIpanicked!I’mnotproudofit…Iseemtorecallsayinghelpfulthingslike,“Holy
Mary,MotherofGod,it’sreallybad!”and“Aretheygoingtohavetoamputate?”Andthen,yes,the
stupidmedicalbag,myoneresponsibility…itjustslippedfrommysweatyhandsandlandedonher
leg.

Mybankaccountisnowovertwohundreddollarslighter,sinceI’vesentthepoorwomanflowers
everydayshe’sbeeninthehospital,nottomentionthreeboxesofGermantrufflesandafruitbasket.

“I’mreallytrying,”IsaytoBev.“Tobehonest,Bev,I’vealwaysfreakedoutatthesightofblood.I
justwanttobe…”Ipause.“Youknowmyfamily,Bev,”Isaywithbleakhonesty.“Ijustwanttobe—”
atrueO’Neill“—normal.Anormal,helpfulperson.”

“Allright,”Bevacquiescesatlast.“We’llseehowitgoes.I’mworriedaboutyourdayintheE.R.,
though.”

She’snottheonlyone.Mymouthgoeschalkyatthemerementionofit.

Shouldersdrooping,Itrudgedownthehalltotheelevators,pressthebuttonandwait.She’sprobably
right.It’snotlikeI’mgoingtodothisforaliving.I’mnotcutoutforthis,myheroicfamilyaside.

Theelevatordoorsslideopen,andthere,dressedinscrubs,isRyanDarling.“Chastity!”hesays,
lookingupfromthecharthe’sreading.“Hownicetoseeyou!”

“Hi,Ryan,”Isay,blushing.Themanfillsoutscrubsnicely,ladiesandgentlemen.Istepin.“Iguess
you’reworking.”

“Mm-hm,”hesays,glancingbackdownatthechart.“Andyou?Areyoulookingforme?”

Ismile.Ah,surgeons.“No.I’mtakinganEMTclass.”

“Really?That’sinteresting.LetmeknowifIcanbeanyhelp.”Hesmiles.“I’mlookingforwardto
Friday.”

“Samehere.”Oncemynipplestainhadbeenwrestledintosubmissiontheothernight,RyanandIhad
averynicetime.Verypleasant.He’daskedtoseemeagain,dinneratEmo’s,andIacceptedinstantly.

Theelevatorstopsagain,andamiddle-agedwomangetson.“Mydaughterjusthadababy,”she
announces,glowing.

“Congratulations!”Isay.“Boyorgirl?”

“Aboy!Patrick!He’ssobeautiful!”Hereyesfillwithjoyfultears,andIpatherarmandsmile.Ryan
saysnothing,engrossedinhischart.Mustbeatoughcase.Theelevatorstopsagain,andheglances
up.

“Thisismyfloor.Pleaseexcuseme,”hesaysformally.

“Haveagoodnight,”Isay.

Heturnsandleansin,plantingaquickandgentlekissrightonmylips.“You,too,Chastity.”He’s
gonebeforetheblushcanfinishcreepingupmyneck.Ibitemylipandsmile.Hekissedme.Ryan
Darlingkissedme.Anditwasnice.Quick,butverynice.

Thedoorsslideshutoncemore.“Nowthere’sahandsomeman,”thenewgrandmothercomments.
“Yourhusband?”

“No,no,”Itellher.“We’re…well,we’redating.”I’mgrinninglikeanidiot.

“Goodforyou,hon.Adoctorandgorgeous.”Shesmilesandsighs.“Thoughnothingbeatshavinga
grandchild.Patrickismyfirst,youknow.”

Myego,whichwaskickedintheheadbymyreviewwithBev,hasbeenrestoredbythebrief
encounterwithRyan.Asthewomanpointedout,heisanextraordinarilygood-lookingman,
incrediblysmart,talentedandwell-educatedandrathercharming,actually.

Ithinkaboutthebathroomincident.Thenipple.Trev’shand.ThenIgivemyheadalittleshakeand
recitethemantraI’vehadgoingforagoodlongtime.TrevorandIarereallygoodfriends.Wewere
togetheronce.Itdidn’tworkout.Ifhe’sthemanI’dchoose,well,sometimesyoudon’tgetwhatyou
want.Doesn’tmeanIcan’tfallinloveagain.Findsomeoneelse.Idon’thavetobestuckonTrevor
JamesMeadefortherestofmylife.

Igobackhome,cliptheleashonmybabygirlandgoforawalk.Mayissuchabeautifulmonth.The

cherrytreesinfrontofmyneighbor ’shouseareinbloom,andlatetulipsnodalongthesidewalk.I’ll
havetodosomegardeningthisyear,too.Buttercupsniffsaflowerbedwithgreatexcitement,
practicallyinhalingagrapehyacinthintohernostril.Alilactreepromisestobegloriousinanother
weekorso.

Iheadfordowntown,pasttheCivilWarmemorial,pastthelibrarywithitsbigelmtreesandbenches.
Thestreetlightsshedasoftpinkglow,andIsneakpeeksupattheapartmentwindowsabovetheshops
thatlineMainStreet.Someonehasabigbookcase.Someone’sroomispaintedred.Someoneloves
plants.Ilovetheselittleglimpsesintothelivesoftheresidents,loveseeingatinysliceofsomeone’s
life.

Buttercupfindsreligionatafirehydrant,puttingherbloodhoundgenestogoodworkasshesniffs
andsniffsandsniffs.Shehasmoreenergythesedays,andit’snotsuchatrialtowalkher,thoughshe
isbreathtakinglyslowforsuchabiganimal.Sheglancesbackatmeandcontinuestosnufflealong
thesidewalk,wagginghertail.

Ifindmyselfatmydad’sapartment,thoughIhadn’texactlyplannedoncoming.Whattheheck.Iring
thebell.

“Trev?”Dad’svoiceasksovertheintercom.

“It’sChastity,Pop,”Isay.

“Hey,Porkchop!”HebuzzesmeinandIwalkupthethreeflightstohisapartment,practically
draggingButtercupbehindme.

“Youcandoit,girl!Almostthere!”Iurgeasshethreatenstocollapseonthesecondlanding.Finally,
wereachDad’sdoor,whichisunlocked.

“Comeonin,”hecallsfromthekitchen.

I’veonlybeenhereoncebefore,lastsummer.Itdoesn’tlookmuchdifferent.There’safutoncouch,a
TVinthecorner,andstillalotofboxesyettobeunpacked.AcoupleofEatonFallsFireDepartment
shirtsaredrapedovertheradiator.

“Ilovewhatyou’vedonewiththeplace,”Isay.

“Don’tbeasmart-ass.Wantadrink?”Dadasks.He’swearinghisworkclothesstill,darkbluepants
andapoloshirtemblazonedwiththeMalteseCross,thesymboloffirefighters.Histhicksalt-and-
pepperhairisrumpled.

“Sure,”Isay.“Gotabeer?”

“Comingup.”

Buttercupflopsdowninfrontofthecouch,andIclimboverhertosit,drapingmylegsoverher
broadback.Dadbringsmeabeer,awhiskeyforhimself,andsitsnexttome,slinginghisarmaround
myshoulder.

“AretheYanksontonight?”Iask.

“No,”hesaysglumly.“Travelday.”Helooksatme.“Sowhatbringsyouhere,Porkchop?”

“Iwasjustoutforawalk.ThoughtI’ddropbyandseeyou.Howareyou,Daddy?Gonnaunpackone
ofthesedays?”

Hesighs.“Well,IneverthoughtI’dliveherethislong,”hesays,removinghisarm.Hesitssilently
foraminute,sippinghiswhiskey.“Yourmotherisseeingsomeone,youknow.”

Inod.

“Isitserious?”heasks.“Shewon’ttalktomeaboutit.”

“I…Idon’tknow,Dad.Ireallythinkyoushouldconsiderretiring,though.”

“Right,”hesnorts.“SoIcansitaroundandscratchmyass?HangaroundatthefirehouseandwishI
wasstillworking?”

Buttercuprises,wagging.Hertailnearlytopplesmybeerbottle,butIcatchitandscratchbehindher
leftear.“Rooooo,”shemoansindoggydelight.Dadgivesareluctantsmile,andButtercuptakesthis
aspermissiontoclimbonthecouchnexttous.Shewedgeshergiantframeonthespacethat’sleft,
thendrapesherfrontpawsandheadacrossmylap.

“YouaretheugliestthingI’veeverseen,”Dadtellsher,strokingoneofherthin,floppyears.Hertail
whipsinappreciation.

“Gettingbacktothesubjectathand,Dad.There’ssomuchyoucoulddoifyouretired.Travel,takeup
golf,spendadayinthecityonceinawhile…youknow.Beanormalperson.”

“Idon’twanttobenormal,”hesays,soundingmuchlikeoneofhistoddlergrandchildrenonasulk.
“I’mafirefighter.”

Ipause.“What’sitlike,Dad?Savingsomeone,Imean.”

Heshiftstolookatmebutdoesn’tsayanythingforaminute.“It’squitearush,”headmits,reaching
overtopetmydog.“Wheneverythingcomestogetherandeveryonedoestheirjobandyouactually
makeagrab,it’sprettyamazing.”

Itrytoimagineit.Tosavesomeone’slife,torescuesomeonefromdanger,justtohelp…tobethe
onewhodidthingsright,insteadoftheonewhofreakedoutanddroppedthebag.“IwishIcoulddo
somethinglikethat,”Isayinanearwhisper.“Savesomeone.”Ilookmydadintheeye.“Tobemore
likeyouandtheboys.”

Dadrollshiseyes.“Anyway.Backtoyourmother.”

Ofcourse.“Backtoyourretirement,youmean,”Isay,takingaswigofbeer.

Dadscowls,lookingalotlikeDylan.“Idon’twanttoretirejustyet.That’sallthereistoit.”

“Youdon’twanttobedivorced,either.Youdon’twantyourwifetobewithsomeoneelse.”

“Shewon’treallygothedistancewiththatguy,”Dadsays,oozingalpha-maleconfidence.“She’sjust
tryingtoteachmealesson.Totortureme,Chastity.It’stheessenceofmarriage.”Heleansbackinhis
chairandscrubshisfacewithhishand.“Speakingoffirefightersandtheircrappymarriages,have
youspokentoMark?He’swoundtighterthanapianowirethesedays.”

“Iknow.HeandElainaarepracticingtheessenceofmarriage,apparently.Lotsofgoodtortureback
andforth.”

Dadgroans,andButtercupechoeshim.“Well,shit.Sowhatelseisnew,Porkchop?”

MylegsarelosingbloodflowunderButtercup,soIwrestlemyselffree,getupandstartfoldingmy
father ’sshirts.“Well,I’mseeingsomeone.Sortof.Wejuststarteddating.”

“Soyoucanbemiserablejustliketherestofus?”

“Yup.That’salwaysbeenmygoal.”

“He’snotafirefighter,ishe?”Dadasks,scowling.

“No,Dad,”Isaywithexaggeratedpatience.“Nofirefighterwoulddaredateyourlittleangelbaby,
okay?He’sasurgeon.”

“Well,goodforyou,Chastity.Adoctor!Nice.”

Irollmyeyes.

“YouknowwhatImean.”Dadstandsalso,comesoverandgivesmeahug.“Hey,look,”he
announces,“agray!Youhaveagrayhair.”Hetugsonastrand,thenmovesintoseparatethegray
hairfromthenormalblacks.“Quiteafew,actually.”

Iswathishandaway.“Gosh,thanks,Pop.They’reprobablyfromyouandMomandallyour
bickering.”Hegrins.“Ihavetogo.Youhaveagoodnight.”

“Keepaneyeoutonyourmother,okay?LetmeknowaboutthisHarry.”

“No.I’mnotplayingSpyvs.SpyforyouandMom.Besides,yousaidityourself.She’sjusttorturing
you.Andifyoumakemepick,I’llpickMom.Seventeenhoursofhardlabor,remember?”

“OfcourseIremember.Iwasthere.Bestdayofmylife.”

“Iloveyou,Dad,”kissinghischeek.“AndnomoreJameson’s,okay?One’syourlimit.”

“Yeah,yeah.Iloveyou,too,Porkchop,”hesays.“Don’tworryaboutyourmotherandme.We’llbe
fine.Weloveeachother.AndI’mnotdrinkingtoomuch,either.”

“Gladtohearit.”IgrabmycoatandButtercup’sleash,clipittohercollarandbeginhaulingheroff
thecouch.Shedoesn’tdeigntoopenhereyes,justpretendsI’mnotthere.

“Isthatdogstillalive?”

“Ithinkso,”Ianswer.Buttercupfinallytopplesoffthecouchwithathudandblinkssorrowfully.Since
sherefusestostand,Ihavetoslipmyarmaroundhershouldersandtrytoencourageherintoa
standingposition.Withgreatreluctance,shefinallyacquiesces.

Dadopensthedoorforme.“Becareful.Youwantmetowalkyouhome?OraskTrevor.Helivesjust
downtheblock.”

“I’mfine,Daddy.Seeyouaround.”

Hewaves.“Keepmeuptospeedonthedoctor.Waytogo,honey.”Heclosesthedoor,stillsmiling.

Walkingdownthestairs,Itrynottobeirritatedwithmyfather.He’soldschool,afterall,and
marryingadoctorusedtomeanalotbackinhisday.Backwhendoctorsmademorethanplumbers
andwomenquittheirjobsupontheconceptionoftheirfirstbaby.Still,itranklesalittle.Twice
tonight,I’vebeencongratulatedontheaccomplishmentofdatingadoctor.Bigdeal.Maybehe’sthe
onewhoshouldbecongratulatedonbeingwithme.Didn’tanyoneeverthinkaboutthat?

“Settledown,”Itellmyself.Buttercup’staillashesagainstmythigh.“Sorry,honey,”Itellher.“I’m
just…Idon’tknow.”

Iwalkdowntheblock,rightpastTrevor ’sbuilding,andI’mnotevengoingoutofmyway.Soit’s
onlynaturalthatIlookupathiswindows,justlikeIdotoeveryoneelse’s,right?Andsureenough,
there’ssomeonestandinginfrontofthewindowofthefourthfloor.Someoneblond.Someonelike
Angela.OrpossiblyPerfectHayden.Clearly,Trevorlikesblondwomen.

IlookawaybeforeIactuallystartspying,butmyheartfeelsalittleheavyjustthesame.

CHAPTERSIXTEEN

“G

ETINHERE

!”P

ENELOPEBARKS

thenextmorningwithuncharacteristicsharpness.

“What’sgoingon?”Iask,goingintoherofficeanddroppingmyknapsackontoachair.

Shewhipshercomputermonitortowardme.Mymouthfallsopen.“Oh,shit!”Isqueak.

Thereonthescreen,infullcolor,isoneofthosemovingcomputercartoons.OfAragorn.And
Legolas.Inarathercompromisingposition,thoughLegolasseemstobehavingagoodtime.

“Whatthehell?”Iask.Myheartisthumpingwildly,mythroatdry.“Someonemusthavehackedin!
I’ll…Ihaveto…I’llgetitoff.”

“Yes!Dothat!”Penelopesays.

Iflyovertomydeskandturnonmycomputer.Whileit’sbootingup,Inoticethateveryoneelseis
studiouslynotlookingatme.Luciaisansweringthephones,whichareringingoffthedamnhook
withangrycitizens,nodoubt.CarlistalkinginalowvoicewithDanielleinlayout.Heglancesatme
inconsternation…Whatthehell?Whocouldhavedonethis?PenelopeandIaretheonlyoneswiththe
passwordthatcanaccesstheWebsitedesign.

“NiceabsonAragorn,”Petemurmurswithoutglancingup.

“Notfunny,Pete,”Isay.Myeyesareburning.God,thisisbad,bad,bad.

Alanlooksfurious.Well,heshould!OurWebsitehasgaypornonit,forheaven’ssake!Howmany
peoplehaveseenit?Howmanykids?Oh,shit!

Mycomputerisfinallybooted.IstartuptheWebsitedesignprogram,typeinthepassword—my
handsareshakingandIgetitwrongtwice—andthereitis,AragornscrewingLegolas.

“Bleecch!”Ican’thelpsaying.Iclickontheimageanddeleteitandit’sgone,thankGod.ThenI
quicklysavethechangesandpublishthesitetotheInternet.

“Isitgone?”IaskPete.

Heclicksonhisscreen.“Yeah.Toobad.Iwasgettingalittleturnedon.”

“Notfunny.Still.”Forthenexthour,IcheckallthepagesandlinkstomakesureAragornand
Legolasaren’tgettingitonsomewhereelse.They’renot,mercifully.ThoughI’madeptatsettingupa
Website,Iknowverylittleabouthacking.Howsomeonegotinisamystery.Wehavefirewalls,the
password,whichisalongseriesofrandomnumbersandletters…Ijustdon’tknow.ThenIcallthe
companythatsuppliesourdomainandaskthemtochangethepassword,explainingwhathappened.

“Well,ifsomeonecanhackintotheDepartmentofDefense,they’regonnabeabletogetintoalittle
newspaper,”thedroneattheotherendofthephonesays.

“Great.Thanksforyourhelp,”Isnap.

Angelacruisesintenminuteslater.“Hi,everyone!IhavemuffinsfromanewbakeryinLakeGeorge.
Helpyourselves!”Themoodoftheofficehitsher,andshecomesovertomydesk.“What’sgoing
on?”

“SomeonehackedintotheWebsiteandputupporn,”Imutter.

“Oh,no!”shesays,herfacefalling.“Howcouldthathappen?”

“Gotme.”Ilookupather.“LordoftheRingsporn.AragornandLegolas.”

Shegoeswhite.“Oh,no,”shesaysagain.

“Iknow,”Iwhisper.

Afewminuteslater,Penelopesticksherheadoutofheroffice.“Staffmeeting!”

Likepenguins,wealltoddleintotheconferenceroom.TheWebsiteismyresponsibility.I’m
sweatingbythetimeIsitdown.EvenLucialooksnervous.

“Aseveryoneisquiteaware,we’reindeepshit,”Penelopeannounces.“Chastity.Telluswhat
happened.”

“Um,well,someoneobviouslyhackedintotheWebsite,”Isay,lookingaround.“Someonewho
wantsustolookbad.”

“Whowouldwantthat?”Luciaasks,nibblingacuticle.

Weallpause.“Idon’tknow,”Isay.“I’mtryingtofigureouthowtheydidit,butthetruthis,anyone
whocanhackpastthesecuritywehaveinplaceisalotmorecleverthanIam.I’vechangedthe
passwordandorderedanotherfirewall,Pen.Ifanyonehasmoresuggestions,pleasespeakup.”My
cheeksareburning.

“We’vehadoverfiftycallsthismorning,Chastity,”Pensays,herusuallyfriendlyfacegrim.

“I’llbehappytofieldthem,”Isay,swallowing.“Thisismyresponsibility.IwishIcoulddomore.”

“MaybeyouneedtochecktheWebsiteeverynight,”Angelasuggests.

“Definitely,”Isay.IknowthatI’llbecheckingitnotjustwhenIgotobed,butinthemiddleofthe
nightandfirstthinginthemorning,too.

“Damagecontrol?”Penasks.

“I’llrunastory,ofcourse,”Alansays.“Wecandrumupsomesympathy,explainabouthackers,
security,thatkindofthing.”Hesighsdeeply,shakinghishead,thenlooksatme,hisangryexpression
softening.“Sorrythishappened,Chastity.”

“Thanks,”Isay.

“Anythingelse?”Penasks.Noonesaysaword.“Chastity,inmyoffice,okay?”

Sheletsthedoorclosebeforeleaningonherdesk.Isituncomfortablyontheedgeoftheseat.“This
isbad,Chastity.Doyouthinkit’sacoincidence,itbeingLordoftheRingsandall?Becauseit’skind
ofcommonknowledgearoundherethatyou’reabigfan.”

“SoisAngela,”Imutter.“Butyes,itseemsalittlecoincidental,doesn’tit?Honestly,Pen,isthere
someonewhomightdothis?Someonewhowantsthepapertohaveablackeye?Orjustmein
particular?”

Welookateachother,bothofusworried.Afteraminute,shelooksaway.“IknowLuciawasreally
pissedwhenshedidn’tgetyourjob,”shebegins,“butIdon’tthinkshe’deverdoanythingtodamage
thepaper ’simage.ShelovestheGazette.”

Inod.“Andhonestly,ifsheknowshowtohackintoaWebsite,she’shiddenitwell.Shecan’teven
forwardmeattachments,eventhoughI’veshownherfourtimes.”

“Yeah,she’sabitslowwhenitcomestocomputers,”Penelopeacknowledges.

“Iknow,Pen.Ican’timagine…”Myvoicetrailsoff.

“Whataboutsomeoneyouknow,Chastity?Doessomeonehaveavendettaagainstyouor
something?”

Ishakemyhead.“NotthatIknowof.”

Therestofthedayisgrimandquiet.Wedowhatdamagecontrolwecan.Thelocalnewsstation
sendsacameracrewover,ensuringthateverycomputergeekteenagerintownwilltryhisorher
handathackingintonight.IspendanotherhouronthephonewithaWebsiteconsultantanddownload
moresecurity.AndIconstantlychecktheWebsite,allitspages,dreadingwhatImightfind.Butit’s
clean.

I’veneverbeenintroubleatworkbefore.Thisfeelingofsheepishness,oflettingdowntheteam,is
newandnotatallwelcome.Istaylate,checkthenewfirewallsandpasswords,thenheadfortheriver.
ThoughIrowedthismorning,Ineedtoburnoffthebadkarmathat’sbeenfloatingaroundmeallday.
Besides,thismorninghadbeenErnesto’slesson,andIdidn’tgetmyusualworkout.

IkeepachangeofclothesatOldManMcCluskey’sshed.Pullingthemon,IliftRosebudoutofher
slingandcarryherouttothewater.AfewpullsontheoarsandI’moutontheHudson.Glancingover
myshoulder,Iseethattheriverisclearofanytraffic,andIdigin.Feather…andsquare.Feather…and
square.Idon’tbotherwarminguptoday.Ineedthepunishment.TheimageofAragornandLegolas
refusestobedeposed,though.Damnit.Wasitpersonal?Whohatesmethatmuch?Coulditbea
brotherlyjoke?IdismisstheideaasIpullontheoars,leaningbackwithallmystrength.No,theboys
wouldn’t—andprobablycouldn’t—hackintooursystem.Luckymighthavethetechnicalknowledge,
butmybrotherswouldneverjeopardizemywork.Andthere’snowaythiscanbeseenasanythingbut
sabotage.

Feather…andsquare.Feather…andsquare.Catchanddrive…catchanddrive.Iburythebladeofthe
oarinthewaterandpullback,butmystrokeisofftonight.Mymovementsarejerky,therunofmy
boatnotnearlyaslongasitusuallyis.FirstI’mrushing,thenI’mslow,myseatthreatenstojumpthe
track.Ashittyrow,allinall.

Justthen,Icommitwhatisreferredtoasacrab.BecauseI’mdistractedandofftempo,Idon’tpullmy
portsidebladeoutofthewaterintime.Itdrags,actingasabrake,andmyoarjoltsbackatme.I
struggleforaminute,tryingtokeeptheboatfromtipping,thenwrestletheoarbackintoposition.I
pause,catchingmybreath.Evenifthishasbeenacrapouting,I’mpantinglikeaLabradorinAugust.
Glancingattheshore,IcanseethatI’vedriftedtoabouttwentyfeetfromtheriverbank,rightbythe
parkthatrunsalongtheriver.Anyonewatchingmewouldhaveseenmygracelessgaffe,which
doesn’tdoanymoreformyself-esteem.

Ipauseforaminutes,lettingthecurrentpullRosebud.Theparkislovely,oneofthetown’sfinest
graces.Therearebenchesscatteredabout,andlotsofpeopleareenjoyingthisbeautifulMayevening.
Couplesholdhands,kidsrunaroundshrieking.Someone’sflyingakite.

IwonderifanyonetheresawLegolasandAragornthismorning.

Someone’swavingtomefromabenchrightalongsidetheriver,alittleupstreamofwhereIam.I
wavebackbeforeIcandiscernwhoitis,thenpullonmyoarsandpullastrokeortwo,drawing
closer.Therearetwopeople,actually.Oh,great.Trevor.

He’swithPerfectHayden.

“Hey,guys,”Icallgamely.

“Lookinggood,Chastity,”Trevorcallsback.

“Showswhatyouknow,dummy,”Ianswer.

“Hi,Chastity,”Haydensaysmellifluously.“Beautifulnight,isn’tit?”Andthen,yes,shescootchesa
littleclosertoTrevor.Notseeingeachother,myass.I’llhavetohavealittletalkwithhim.Wasn’the
outwithAngelatheothernight,afterall?Anddidn’tPerfectHaydenwalkalloverhisheartwithher
tinyhigh-heeledshoesoncealready?Heretheyare,cuddleduponabenchonagorgeousspring
evening,buthey,they’renotseeingeachother,arethey?Ofcoursenot.

Withoutfurtherthought,IturnRosebudaroundandrowbacktotheshed.IfI’mstompingalittle,who
canblameme?It’sbeenapiss-poorday.IpatmyboatapologeticallyasIputherback.“Sorry,pal,”I
say.“I’lldobetternexttime.”

CHAPTERSEVENTEEN

W

HEN

I

OPENTHEDOORTHENEXT

night,IfindTrevor,JakeandLuckystandingbeforeme.

“Oh,mydearGodinheaven!”Icry.“Thankyou!”

“You’rewelcome,Chas,”Luckysays,shovinghiswayin.“Hey,Matt.”

“Hi,Chastity,”Trevorsaysashepassesme.Withoutfurtherado,theyflingthemselvesonvarious
piecesoffurniture.

“Waitaminute,”Isay.“You’reheretorenovatemybathroom.Youare.Tellmeyouare.”

“Oh,shit,that’sright.Wereallyneedtoschedulethatin,”Luckysays.“Matt,yougotanybeer?”

“Thenwhyareyouhere?”Iaskhim.“Notinanexistentialsense,becausetheanswerissheerrandom
perversity,butwhyareyouhereinmylivingroom?”

ButtercuplaunchesherselfontoLucky’slap,renderinghimmomentarilyincapableofspeech.

“Yanks-Mariners,”Jakeanswers,givingmeaquick,automaticonce-over.“Matt,I’llhaveabeer,
too.”

IgazesternlydownuponJake.“Sinceyou’realreadyhere,boys,howaboutyoutakeafewtools
upstairsandgetgoing?Everything’sdowncellar.Taketheradioupstairs,listentothegame,doa
littleinstallation,hookupsomeplumbing…please?Prettyplease?”

“Wereallydon’thavewhatweneed,Chas.Sorry,”Luckysays,crackingabeer.

“Andyetyoucashedmycheckthreemonthsago,”Icomment.

“SoIdid,”headmits.“Anditwillbedone.Eventually.Canyoumove?Thegameisstarting.”

“Please,Lucky.You’restillmyfavoritebrother.Don’tmakemekeepsharingabathroomwithMatt.
HeeatsalotofMexicanfood.”

“Ouch,”Jakewinces.

“Wantabeer,Chas?”Mattoffers,ignoringmypleas.

Isigh.“I’mgoingout,”Isay.“Ihaveadate.”Nooneseemstocare.

OntheTV,MichaelKay’sfamiliarvoicebeginslaudingthesuperiorityoftheBronxBombers.“A
date?”Luckyasksdistantly.

“Yes.AdatewithRyan.Thesurgeon.”

“Great,”Luckysays.“Maybehecanfixthebathroom.”

“Ishepickingyouup?”Trevorasks.

“No,”Iansweralittlesmugly.“Hehadanemergencyconsultationatthehospital.”

LuckymovesButtercupandfrownsather.“Shit,Chas,yourdog’sbleedingonme.”

“What?”

LuckylowersButtercupdowntothefloor,wheresheimmediatelyoffersherstomachforascratch,
herearsspillingoutbehindherheadlikewings.Trevorpushesthecoffeetableback,andthemen
crowdaroundher,checkingforwounds,runningtheirhandsdownherlegsandgentlyrufflingher
fur.

“It’sokay,honey,”Itellmydog,strokingherears.“Theseguysareprofessionals.”

“Roooroooo,”shecroons,hertailwhippingJakeintheface.

“Watchthetail,”Mattsays.“It’salethalweapon.”

“Yeah,thanks,”Jakemutters,rubbingthewelt.

“IthinkIfoundit,”Trevorsays,grinningupatme.“Lookslikeyourlittlegirl’sbecomingawoman,
Chastity.”

“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”Iask,stillpettingButtercup’shead.

“She’sinheat.”

“Yuck,”Jakeoffers,risingquicklyandresuminghispositiononthecouch.

“Butshe’sspayed!”Iprotest.“Theysaidshewasspayed!”

“Thatexplainswhyshe’shadalittlelifeinherlately,”Mattobserves.“Loveisintheairandallthat
crap.Nomoredeadwaterbuffalo,right,Buttercup?”

Theguystaketheirseatsagain,butIstayonthefloorwithmydog.Poorthing.Dodogsgetcramps?
ShouldIstayhomeandofferahotwaterbottle,thewaymymomusedtodoforme?

Damnthatpound.I’llhavetocalltheminthemorningandaskthemtocheckherfile.“WhatshouldI
doaboutthebleeding?”Iask.“Anyideas?”

“I’lltakecareofit,”Mattsays,gazingatourdog.“Yougo,Chas.Havefun.Buttercupwillbefine.”

Buttercupdoesseemfine…sherousesherselftoburyhersizeablesnoutinJake’scrotch.“Comeon,
dog!”heyelps.

“She’slookingforamate,Jake.Justrelaxandletherfinish,”Isay,grinning.

“Makesyoufeelsodirty,doesn’tit?”Trevorsays,hiseyeslaughing.

“She’sbleedingonme!Comeon,guys,thisisgross!”AsButtercupattemptstomountJake’sleg,I
decideyes,Mattcanhandlethis.Checkingmyownjeansforbloodandfindingthemclean(thank
heavens),Istandup.“Okay.Thanks.Justmakesureshestaysinside.Thelastthingwewantisforher
tobeknockedup.”

“S

O

,R

YAN,AREYOUA

Y

ANKEES

fan?”Iaskanhourlater.MygazekeepsflickeringtotheTVinthe

barhalfofEmo’s,butalas,Ican’tseethescore.Damn.

“No,”hesays,smilingpleasantly.“Idon’treallywatchsports.”Problem.“Butmyfatherhasseason
ticketsatYankeeStadium.”Problemsolved!“Maybewecangosometime,sinceyou’reobviouslya
fan.”

“I’dloveto,”Imurmurdemurely,alreadymentallyreviewingthehome-gameschedule.

We’resittingataprimetableoverlookingthestreet.Emo’sispacked,thefoodislovely,andRyan
kissedmewhenImethimhereandapologizedfornotbeingabletopickmeup.He’sverypolite.

“Ireallyenjoyedthearticle,”Ryansays.

“Great!I’mgladyoulikedit,”Ireply.Thetruthis,I’dkindofforgottenaboutthatarticle,being
preoccupiedwiththehackingincident.Sofar,nothingelsehashappened.ButRyan’sarticlewas
pleasantifIdosayso…nomentionofanygroininjuriesandanicepictureofRyaninhis(yum)
karateuniform.“It’sgottengoodreviews.”

“Andit’spartofaseries,correct?”heasks,takingasipofhiswine.

“That’sright.We’redoingfirefightersnext.”

“Apredictablechoice,”hemurmurs.

Myheadjerksbackafraction.“Well,yes,Isupposeyou’reright,inthesensethateveryoneidentifies
firefightersasheroic.”Ipause.Ryandoesn’tsayanything,justsmilesalittle,encouragingmeto
continue.“Afterthat,I’mdoingastoryonapediatricianwhogoestoSouthAmericatotreatkids
downthere.Shegoeseveryyear.Maybeyouknowher,Dr.Whitman?JeannieWhitman?”

“Idon’treallydealwithpediatriciansunlessI’mgettingthemuptospeedonatraumapatientwho
happenstobeaminor.Usually,though,weflythosepatientstoChildren’sinAlbany.”

“Isee.Hey,youmustrunintomybrotherJackfromtimetotime.He’sachopperparamedic.Jack
O’Neill,tall,blackhair,looksalotlikeme…”

Ryanshakeshishead.“Can’tsaythatitringsabell.”

“Oh,”Isay.Ourdinnersarrive,andweeatandsmileateachother.Itrytothinkofsomethingwittyto
say.Icomeupempty.Probably,I’mjusttoousedtobeingoneoftheguys.Andofcourse,I’vebeen
avoidingthesubjectofhiscareer,butIcan’tdodgeitforever.Finishingmywine,Idecidetogoforit.

“So,Ryan,tellmeaboutyourwork.Didyoualwayswanttobeasurgeon?”

“Traumasurgeon,”hecorrects,leaningforward.“Yes,Idid,Chastity.Myfatherisalsoasurgeon,as
IbelieveItoldyou,soIwasluckytohavesomeoneshowmetheropes.”

“Isithard—emotionally,Imean?Obviously,yourpatientsareinprettybadshape.”

“Emotionally,no,it’snothard,”hereplies,takinganotherbiteofhissalmon.“Obviously,there’sa
highlevelofskillinvolved.”Hesmilesmodestly.“Themorecommoncasesaresplenectomies,
damagedbowelfromaGSW…gunshotwound,thatis…oh,bleedingcontrol,musclerepair.Andof
course—”heleansforwardwithrelish,grinning“—themoreseverethetraumaticevent,themore
fascinatingthecase.”

Iswallow.

“Isupposeit’stheorthopedictraumathateveryonethinksismoreglamorous,”Ryancontinues,
unawareofmyrapidlydroppingbloodpressure.Hisvoicetakesonaslightlybitternote.“Obviously,
Ihavetorepairahemorrhagingorganbeforethebonedoctorscanassessreattachmentpossibilities,
right?Whocaresifthefemurisshatteredifthepatient’sspleenisgushingandwe’rerunningoutof
blood?”

“God!”Iblurt.“Okay,wow!Thatisimpressive!”Wipingmyclammypalmsonmyjeans,Ipushmy
plateback.“Listen,Ryan,Ihavetotellyou,I’malittlesqueamishaboutthiskindofthing.”

Hesmileskindly.“Mostpeopleare,”hesaysalmostproudly.“Wanttotalkaboutsomethingelse?”

“Yes,please,”Ibreathe.Hereachesacrossthetableandtakesmyhand,whichisclutchingaroll.

“Ilikeyou,Chastity,”hesays,grinning.

Nicetoknowmyphobiaischarming.Swallowingbile,Igrinback.“Ditto.”Hereallyis…well,he’s
gorgeous,thisguy.Nice,too.“Sowheredidyougrowup,Ryan?”Iask,extricatingmyhandand
takingabiteofmyroll.

“LongIsland,”hesays.“WestartedoutinHuntington,butmyparentsnowhaveacottageinthe
Hamptons.EastHampton,tobeprecise.Quitepretty.You’llloveit.”

Iprobablywill,buthisstatementgivesmepause.You’llloveitwhenyoucomedowntomeetthe
family,andyouwill,won’tyou,sinceI’msofabulous.Stopit,Chastity.He’sperfectlynice.Getyour
pantiesoutofthetwist.He’sstilltalking,andIsmileandnodandtakeasipofwater.

AndthenIhearsomething…somethingfamiliar,thoughtoofarawaytoidentify.Aquiverof
forebodingbuzzesthroughmylegs.Thatsoundinthedistanceaffectsme…orisaboutto.

“Doyouhearthat?”IaskRyan,tippingmyheadtowardthewindow.

“No,”heanswers.“It’sprettyloudinhere.”

Ican’tquitemakeoutthedarkshaperoundingthecorner,butmysenseofforebodinggrows.

“Whatisit?”Ryanasks.

“Idon’t…I’mnot…oh,shit!Buttercup!”

“Aaaahhroooorooorooo!”

Andyes,mydogisgalloping—galloping!—herhugeearsflapping,jowlsrisingandfallingwith
eachstride,enormouspawsfloppinggracelesslyonthepavementassheruns—runs!—rightdownthe
middleofthestreet.Thisfromadogwhohastobedraggedtogooutside!

Andonherhindquarters,inordertopreventlittledropsofbloodfromspatteringmyhouse,isapair
ofMatt’sbrightwhiteCalvinKleinboxerbriefs.Hertail,whichisguidedthroughthefrontslotofthe
briefs,whipsbackandforth.Isitfrozeninhorrorasshecareensontothesidewalkrightinfrontof
Emo’s.

“Whyisthatdoggiewearingunderwear?”asksalittlegirl.

“Oh,myGod!”Istandabruptly,bumpingthetable.Ryan’swatersloshes.“Howdidshegetout?She’s
nevergottenoutbefore!Itoldtheboys—”

Mypreciouspuppy,allonehundredandtwentypoundsofrandy,menstruatingshe-dog,leapsup
againstthewindow,frontpawsleavinggreatmuddysmearsagainsttheglass,bayingwithjoyat
havingsniffedouthermistress.“Aahroorooroororooo!”shesings,headthrownbackinecstasy.

“DearGod,”Ryansays.

Istareopen-mouthed.“Um…IthinkI’dbetter…that’s…that’smydog.”

“DearGod,”Ryansaysagain.

I’malreadyweavingmywaythroughtherestauranttowardthebar.Peopleareeitherlaughingor
frowningasButtercupcontinuestoserenademe.Themaîtred’andtwoserversarepointingand
talking.

“I’lltakecareofthis!”Itellthem.“She’smine.Shemusthavetrackedmehere.She’spart
bloodhound.She’sinheat.”

“Thanksforsharing,”themaîtred’says.

AsIburstoutoftherestaurant,Buttercupdecidesshe’snotreadyforcapture.Sheleavesthewindow,
tailwhipping,andtrotsawayfromme,boxersgleaming,andstopstosniffatire.

“Buttercup…heregirl!”Icall,tryingtosoundrelaxedandhappytoseeher.

Justthen,apickuptruckcomesaroundthecorner.Matt’sbehindthewheel,whileTrevorleansoutthe
window,callingmydog’sname.Bothofthemarecontortedwithlaughter.Buttercuptrotsafewfeet
fartheraway.“Buttercup!”Icroon.“Comeon!Cookie!Salami!Wantsomesalami?Huh,girl?Come
on,Butterbaby!”

Ryancomesoutoftherestaurant.“Whatisshewearing?”heasks.

“Mybrother ’sunderwear.Um,let’sjusttrytocatchher,”Isay.

Mattpullsuptothecurbandgetsout,wipinghiseyes.“Sorry,Chas.Sheescaped.”

“Yes,Igotthat.”

Trevorgetsout,too,staggering,wheezing.“Shefoundyou,”hemanages.“Sheloveshermommy.”

“Oh,shutup,”Isay,thoughIcan’thelpgrinning.“Don’tchaseher.Justpretendyouhaveacookieor
something.”Buttercupstopstwentyfeetaheadandstaresatussuspiciouslyfromheryelloweyes.Her
tailwagstentatively,buthershouldersaretensedforflight,possiblyforthefirsttimeinheryoung
life.“Veryslow,boys,verycasual.”

“Rogerthat,”Mattsays.“CometoDaddy,sweetheart.”Westartcreepingdownthesidewalk.Quitea
crowdhasgatheredatthewindowoftherestaurantaspeoplewatchtoseethecapture.

“Butterbaby!Comeon,honey!”Icall.Shesniffsthesidewalkandflopsdown,apparentlydoneforthe
night.“I’msosorryaboutthis,”Isay,glancingatRyan.He’sstaringinconsternationatmydog.

“Notatall,”hemurmursinsincerely.

“Who’smyprettypuppy?”Mattsays,pretendingtoholdoutatreat.“Doyouwantacookie?”Shelets
himapproach.Trev,RyanandIholdback.JustasMattreachesouttograbButtercup’scollar,she
twistsaway,lurchestoherfeetandmakesadashforfreedom.“Aaaahhroooorooorooo!”Sheheads
towardthethreeofus,thendodgesoutintothestreet.

“Grabher,Chas!”Mattyells,butmydogdartspastmewithsurprisingagility,pastRyan,pastTrevor,
whojustmissesher,andcontinuesdownthestreet.Frombehindher,Icanseetheredsplotchof
bloodonMatt’sunderwear.

“Holycrap!”Iblurt,burstingintolaughter.“Comeon!”Istartrunning.Buttercupisahalfblock
ahead,andI’mlaughingsohardithurts.“Buttercup!”Icallinbetweengasps.“CometoMommy!”

Mattcrossesthestreettotrytoflushourdogtowardme,butshe’stoofarahead.Behindme,Trevor
isstaggeringunhelpfully,laughingsohardhecanbarelyremainupright.Apassingcarslowsdown,
andButtercupshiftstoMatt’ssideofthestreet,stoppingtosniffaparkingmeter.Herbigearsprick
withsuddenalertness,andIglanceupahead.“Shit!Catchher,Matt!”Iyell.

UpaheadisatinyYorkshireterrieronaleash,beingwalkedbyaratherplumpman.

“No,Buttercup!”Trevorcalls.“You’llkillhim,girl!”

Mylaughtergoessilent,tearsstreamingdownmyface.“Buttercup!Salami!”Imanage,clappingmy
hands,tryingtogetmydog’sattention.Itdoesn’twork.

TheYorkieownerispeeringintothewindowofanantiquesshopanddoesn’tseemtosensethe
imminentdangerposedtohistinydog.

“Mister!Hey,buddy!”Mattcalls.“She’sinheat!Pickupyourdog!Pickhimup!”

Puzzled,themanobeys,justintime,thenrecoilswhenheseesButtercupcharging.

“Buttercup,no!”Ishout.

“Aahroorooroororooo!”shebays,ignoringme.Intentonherwould-bemate,sheleapsagainsthis
owner.

“Aah!”hecries.“No,doggy!Baddoggy!Getdown!No!Down!”

Trevorglancesdownthestreetandrunsacross,haulingButtercupoffthemanandhishaplessdog.
Buttercupgoeslimp,glancingbackbalefullyasTrevordragsherawayfromhertruelove.

“Thatdogshouldbeleashed!”theYorkieownerspits.

“You’reabsolutelyright.We’lltelltheownerassoonaswefindhim,”Trevorsays,throwingmea
grin.“Areyouallright,sir?”Hesticksouthishand.“TrevorMeade,EatonFallsFire.”

“I’mfine,”themanreplies.“Thankyouforstoppingthathideousanimal.Puffy,areyouokay?”He
dropsakissontheYorkie’sheadandglaresatme.

“Ma’am,yousayyouknowthisdog’sowner?”Trevorasksmewithaconspiratorialwink.

Ipause.“Um,yes.Yes,Ido.Myneighbor ’sdog.Verynaughtybeast.Bad,Buttercup.”

“YoutellthosepeoplethereareleashlawsinEatonFalls,”YorkieMansays.

“Icertainlywill,”Isay.“You’readisgrace,Buttercup.Yourownerswillbesoashamed.”

“Thanksforyourhelp,ma’am,”Trevorsaystome.Ifeelhissmilerightintomybonemarrow.

“Comeon,Puffy,”themansays,turningaroundandheadingbackfromwhencehecame.“Poor
Puffy.Youwerescared,weren’tyou?”

“Scaredisn’tthewordI’duse,”Mattcomments,joiningTrevandme.Heeyesthetinydog,whotwists
andwhinesinhismaster ’sarms,strugglingtoreturntoButtercup.“Puffyhaditcovered.”

“Imaginetheirchildren.”Trevorlaughs,kneelingtostrokemydog.

Ryancomesovertomeand,tomysurprise,putshisarmaroundmyshoulders.Inalltheexcitement,I
hadalmostforgottenabouthim.

“Ryan!Hey,haveyoumetmybrother?ThisisMatt.”Theyshakehands.

“Sorryaboutthis,Chas,”Mattsays.“LuckywentouttocallTara,andyourhornylittledogdashed
out.”

“Oh,that’sokay,”Isay.“Makesforamemorablenight,wouldn’tyousay,Ryan?”

“Absolutely,”Ryananswers,andsuddenly,Ifeelarushofaffectionforhim.Afterall,hewasagreat
sport,wasn’the?Itakehishandinmine,andhesmiles.

“Youcangetherback,right,boys?”Iask.

“Sure,Chas,”Trevoranswers.“Youkidshaveanicenight.”

A

FTERAMUCH-NEEDEDSECOND

glassofwinebackatEmo’s,RyanasksmeifI’dliketocomebackto

hisplace.Thesurrealfeelingofbeingwithhimreturnsasheopensthedoortohiscondo.It’sasleek,
stylishplaceinarenovatedmillbuilding.Thewindowsfaceupriver,awayfromtheenergyplant.
Dark-stainedwoodfloorsgleam,theorientalcarpetglowswithjeweltones.Afireplacetakesupan
entirewall,andit’sallverymodernandclean,justwhatyou’dimagineforasurgeon.

“Whatalovelyplace,”Isay.

“Thankyou,”Ryansays.“CanItakeyourjacket?”Hedoes,thengoesinthekitchenandopensa
cabinet.“Whatkindofwinewouldyoulike,Chastity?I’vegotaverynicepinot,agorgeousNew
Zealandchardonnay,somecabernet…”

“Oh,um,youpick,”Isay.Myheartisbeatingalittlefast,andIswallow.Thetruthis,I’mnervous.I
haven’tdatedmuch,haven’thadasteadyboyfriendinawhile.Haven’tbeenbacktoaman’splacein
anage.Iwonderifallmypartsstillwork.

Therearesomeblack-and-whitephotosonthewall,mostlyofbuildings,thoughoneofasnowyfield.
“Didyoutakethesepictures?”Iask.

“Oh,no.Mydecoratorboughtthem.Gladyoulikethem,though,”hesays,handingmeaglassof
white.“Wouldyouliketositdown?”

Wesitonthesumptuousleathercouch.Ryanpicksuparemotecontrol,pushesabutton,andvoilà!We
haveafire.“Verynice,”Isay,takingasipofthewine.

Hepushesalockofmyhairbehindmyearandsmiles.Ismileback.Mykneestingle.Hemovesa
littlecloser.Moretingling.Hisarmslidesalongthebackofthecouch,hishandmovestothebackof
myhead.Thenheleansinandkissesmyneck,sendinglittleshiversdownmyside.

“So,Ryan,okay,”Iblurt.“Ihavetoaskthis…sorry.”IshiftalittlesoIcanbetterseehisface.“Ryan,
you’reagorgeousman,you’readoctor—”

“Surgeon,”hecorrectswithasmile.

“Right!Asurgeon,atraumasurgeon…um,whyaren’tyoumarried?”

Hesitsbackandfrowns.“It’savalidquestion,”hesays.“Honestly,Chastity,Ialwaysfeltthatwork
camefirst.It’snoteasytobecomeasurgeon—”

“Oh,Iknow,”Ismile.“IwatchGrey’sAnatomyeveryweek.”Hedoesn’tdeigntorespond.“Sorry.Go

on,”Imumble,lookingatmyhigh-tops.

Heglancesathiswineglass,heldlooselyinhisbeautifulhands.“Ialwaysfeltthataserious
relationshipwouldn’tbeadvisablewhileIwassoimmersedinmyresidency,orinestablishingmy
career.”Heshiftshisgazetome.“Nowthat’sdone.”Heraisesaneyebrow.“AndI’vemetyou.”

Iblush,pleased.“IguessI’msurprisedyoudidn’tmeetanyoneelseatthehospital,fromyour
residency,maybe?”Isuggest.“LikeMcDreamyandMeredith?”

“Idon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout,”hesays,buthistoneisfond.“ButIwouldn’twanttomarry
anotherdoctor.Oneinthefamilyisenough.”

“Oh,”Isay.“Andwhyisthat?”

“It’sademandingcareer,”hesayssimply.“Whenitcomestohavingchildren,Ithinkit’sbesttohave
atleastoneparentwhocandevotealotoftimetothem.”Hepauses,hiseyesdroppingtomymouth.
Hisvoicelowers.“Anymorequestions?”

“Um…no,”Iwhisper.Thetinglingreturns.

“CanIkissyounow?”

“Sure,”Iwhisper,andhedoes.Hekissesme,averynice,skilled,gentlekiss.Ipullback,setmywine
glassonthecoffeetable,andtakeanotherlookathim.“Anypets?”Iask.

“No.”Helaughs.

“Okay,”Ianswer,thengrabhisshirtandpullhimagainstmeandkisshimalittlelessperfectlythan
hejustkissedme.

“Justsoyouknow,”hemurmursagainstmymouth,“I’mlookingforaseriousrelationship.
Committedandmonogamous.”

“Gotit,”Isay,smiling.Can’tsaythatI’veeverknownamantosaysuchthings.“Me,too,Ryan.”And
thenhekissesmeagain,andwestoptalkingforagoodlongwhile.

M

YGIRLPARTSSTILLWORK

,I’

M

happytoreport.

We’recuddling.IdlystrokingRyan’ssatinyshoulder,Iremindmyselftomoisturizemoreregularly.
ThisguyismuchprettierthanIam.Istifleagiggle.

“Thatwasgreat,”hemurmurs,kissingmyhead.

“Yeah,”Iagree.“Verynice.”

Butnowthatthedeedisdone,well,I’mfeelingalittlesquirrelly.“Hey,Ryan,wouldyoumind
drivingmehome?”

“Rightnow?”heasks.Hisfingersstopplayingwithmyhair.

“Well,no,notexactlynow.ButIhaveanearlymeeting.”It’strue.

“Sure,”hesays,pullingbacktolookatme.“Butyou’remorethanwelcometospendthenight,
Chastity.”

“Thanks,”Isay.“Nexttime,but,um,Iprobablyshould…youknow.”

Fiveminuteslater,Ryankissesmeagain,verysweetly,thenrollsoutofbedandpullsonhisclothes.I
smile,gratefulfortheyearsofkarateandathleticismthathavesculptedhisbodytoMatthew
McConnaugheyperfection.

Thatperfectionaside,IknowIwouldn’tsleepawink,andthelittlevoiceinmyheadiswaitingto
haveatalkwithme.

Thestarsburnbrightinthesky,andthestreetsareempty.ThehumofRyan’sMercedesisbarely
audible,andheholdsmyhandthewholewayback.

“You’dbetterstayinthecar,”Isay,lookingatmyhouse.“Mybrother ’shometonight,andif
Buttercuphearsastranger,she’llgonutsandwakehimup.”Ofcourse,thisisnottrue.Ifsheeven
woke,I’dbesurprised.I’mnotsurewhyIjustlied.

“Okay,”hesays,lookingatme.Heleansoverandkissesmebriefly.“I’mgladwe’retogether,
Chastity.”

Myheartsqueezesathisearnestness.“Thanks.Me,too,Ryan.”

“I’llcallyoutomorrow.”

“Sure.Thanks.”Iopenthecardoorandrunupthepath.HewaitsatthecurbuntilIgoinside,then
pullsnoiselesslyaway.

Theonlylightisfromthenightlightinthehall,whichMattandIleaveonincasehegetscalledtothe
firehouseinthemiddleofthenight…orifIneedamidnightsnack.Buttercupgroansfromher
corner,hertailwhackingthefloor.“Hi,honey,”Iwhisper.Shedoesn’tevenopenhereyes,too
exhaustedfromherflightthroughEatonFallstocomeover,justthumpshertailafewmoretimesand
goesbacktosleep.

Goingintothekitchen,Iopenthefridge,blinkingatthesuddenburstoflight,andstareatthecontents
inside.Notawholelottowarmagirl’sheartorfillhertummy.Itakeoutthemilkandgrabthe
Choco-Puffsfromthecabinet.Gettingabowl,Iturnaroundandnearlydieoffright.Trevoris
standingtherelikeaghost.

“Trevor!Jeez!”Ihiss,bobblingthecartonofmilk.

“Sorry,Chas,”hewhispers.“Here,letme.”Hetakesthemilkfrommyhandsandsetsitonthetable.
“Sorry.Didn’tmeantoscareyou.”

“Well,creepinguponsomeoneatthreeinthemorningtendstodojustthat,”Isay.“Justforfuture
reference.”MyheartisthuddingsohardIcanpracticallyseeitcomingoutofmychest.

Trevorsmilesandtakesaseatatthetable,takingcaretobequiet.“I’mcrashingheretonight,”hetells
me.

“SoIsee.”He’swearingjeansandaT-shirt,andhisfeetarebare.I’msurehewasn’tsleepinginjeans
—Iendthethoughtrightthere.“Wantsomecereal?”

“No,thanks,”hesayswithagrin.“Howwasyourdate?Aftertheweebeastiechasedyoudown,that
is.”

Itakeadeepbreath.Mypurposeinhavingalittlelate-nightsnackwastoanalyzesaiddate.“Itwas
great,”Isay.“Wehadagreattime.Ryan’sagreatguy.”

“Great.”

Ilookathimsharply.“Wedid.Heis.”

“I’mnotsayingyoudidn’t,Chas,orthathe’snot.”Hefoldshisarmsacrosshischestandcontinues
lookingatme,musclesbulging,hairrumpled,utterlyluscious.ItakeaheartybiteofChoco-Puffsand
chew.Goaway,Trevor,Isaysilently.Becausesittingintheneardarkatthreeinthemorningisfartoo
intimate.“How’sAngela,speakingofdating?”

“She’sfine,”hesays.“Nicegirl.”

“Soareyouguysserious?”Iblurt,shovelinginanothermouthfulofcereal.

“We’vebeenontwodates,Chastity.”

“So?RyanandIhavealsobeenontwodates.”

“Andareyouguysserious?”heasks.

“Yes,asamatteroffact,weare.Weareinacommitted,monogamousrelationship.”Myspoon
clatterswithunnecessaryroughnessagainstthebowl.

“Twodatesisalittlequickforaserious,committed,monogamousrelationship,wouldn’tyousay?”

“Well,we’vejustbegunthecommitted,serious,monogamousrelationship,Trevor.Gottastart
somewhere.”MyvoiceisnotquiteascasualasI’dlike.

“Sure,”Trevoragrees.“AndI’msurehehasalotofnicequalities.”

WhydoeshedefendRyan?mylittlevoicesquawks.Whydoesn’thesay,Howaboutacommitted,
serious,monogamousrelationshipwithme,Chas?

Becausehedoesn’twantthat,Elaina’svoiceanswersfirmly.He’shadhischance,okay?He’shad
plenty.

“So?”Trevorasks.“Whatdoyoulikeaboutthisguy,Chas?”

“Whatareyou,mybigsisternow?”Iask,andhegrins,andmyinsideslurch.

“Closeenough.Answerthequestion.”

Igetupfromthetable,putmybowlinthesinkandstareoutthewindowatthedarkbackyard.“He’s
reallysmart,obviously.”Well-educated.“Andhe’sgotanicesenseofhumor…youknow,kindof
quiet.”Excellentmanners.“He’shardworking.Treatsmereallywell.”Gooddriver.“Didn’tmind
chasingButtercup.”

“Soundslikethere’ssomepotentialhere,Chas.”

Mythroattightens.“Oh,yeah.Definitelypotential.Listen,buddy,I’mgoingtobed.Doyouneed
anything?Pillow,blanket,anything?”

“I’mallset,thanks.Night,Chastity.”

“Goodnight,Trev.”

Upstairsinmyroom,Buttercuphastakenherusualposition,occupyingthree-quartersofmyqueen-
sizebed.Iundress,thenrealizewithanimpatientsighthatIforgottobrushmybleepingteeth.And
sinceIdon’tevenhaveasinkinmystupidbathroom,I’dhavetogobackdownstairsandriskseeing
Trevoroncemore.

Well.Igetintomytinysliverofabed,shoveButtercupoverwithmyfeetandsigh.

SurelyI’vewastedenoughtimethinkingaboutTrevoroverthepastcoupleofdecades.Insteadof
thinkingaboutTrev,Iordermyselftothinkofattainable,relationship-mindedRyanDarling.

IthinkIcouldprobablyloveRyan.LikeIsaidtoTrevor,heseemslikeaverynice,serious,
hardworkingguy.He’snotreallyfunnyinthewaythatI’musedto,thelizardsinthebedkindof
funny,buthe’snotun-funny,either.Andthere’ssomechemistrybetweenus,sure.Ifmytoesdidn’t
exactlycurl,well,theytwitched,andthiswasjustourfirsttime.Heiscertainlygood-looking.We’d
makebeautiful,strong,tallchildren,hopefully.Smart,too.IvyLeagueTeamsters.

Soyes,we’ddoneit.Movedtherelationshipforward,andifitwasalittlefast,asTrevorso
irritatinglypointedout,sowhat?RyanandIareconsentingadultsinourthirties.Nobigdeal.Iwince
asthewordsechoinmyhead.Nobigdeal.

It’snotthatsexwithRyanwasn’tnice.Itwas.Verynice.Wetookourtime,hewasconsiderate,assured
meofhisgoodhealth,tookcareoftheneededprotectionandallthat.Itwasverynice.IfIhadto
gradeit,I’dgiveitaB+.Good,solid,well-supportedsex.Likeaheartymeatloafdinner.Andifnice
isn’texactlywhatawomandreamsof,ifinsteadofmeatloaf,she’swishingforfiletmignon,ifshe’s
wantingearth-shakinginsteadofsolid,alittlemorewild,alittlelesssmooth,well,sheshould
probablygetoverit.

CHAPTEREIGHTEEN

“H

APPY

M

OTHER’S

D

AY

,M

OM

,”Isay,handingoverthetulips,trufflesandcard.

“Oh,honey!Howsweetyouare!”Momcries,tearingopenthetruffles.“Oooh,verynice,darling!
Wantone?”

“No,no,they’reallforyou,”Isay.

Momreadsthecard,tearsup,hugsme.“Iloveyou,too,sweetheart,”shesays.“Don’ttelltheboys,
butyou’remyfavorite.”

“Don’ttelltheboys,myass,”Jacksays.“Shetellsuseverychanceshegets.”

Ikissmyoldestbrother ’scheek.“Youpoorneglectedbaby,”Isay.“Doesn’tyourmommywuvyou
anymore?”

“I’llalwaysbeherfirstborn,”hesays,swattingme.“Youwerejustanaccident.”

“What?”Igasp,feigningshock.“Youdidn’twanttwobabiesinelevenmonths,Mom?”

“Oh,youtwo,”shesaysfondly.“Allchildrenareablessing,yaddayaddayadda.”

JackandIlaugh.“Whosentyouthose,Mom?”Iask,pointingtoahugearrangementofrosesand
liliesonthediningroomtable.

“Oh,thosearefromHarry,”shecoos.Jackshootsmealook.“Jack,IthinkGrahamisstuckinthat
tree,”Momadds,andthetwoofthemgooutsidetorescuevariousandsundrychildrenandintervene
inaspatoverwhohastoretrievethesoccerballfromthemud.

Igointothediningroomandcheckoutthebouquet.Veryexpensive.Allthethornshavebeentaken
offtheroses,andtheliliesareaspinkandsexualasGeorgiaO’Keefebelieved.Iglanceatthecard:
Toanamazingwomanwhodeservestobecelebratedonthisspecialday.XOXHarry

“Bleechh,”Isay,wonderingwhatDadwouldthink.Imakeaface,thengointothelivingroomwhere
mysisters-in-lawsitlikeempresses.LuckyisservingthemBloodyMarys,asheshould.

“Hi,Tara,”Isay,handingmysister-in-lawacard.“You’reafabulousmother.”

“Oh,Chastity!Thisissosweetofyou!”TaraopenshercardasIhandSarahhers.

“HappyMother ’sDay,Sarah.You’reawonderfulmom,”Itellherwithdutifulhonesty.

“Thanks,Chas!”Sarahcries.Imoveon.

“Ihopeyoubroughtmemorethanacard,”Elainasays,acceptingherenvelope.

“Vodka.Inthecar.Didn’twanttomaketheothersjealous,”Istage-whisper.“Andyou’reawonderful

mom,too,blahblahbleepingblah.”

Elainasmacksmeaffectionately.“Don’tworry,chiquita,”shesaysasIfloponthecouchnexttoher.
“You’llhaveyourturn,okay?Andthenyou’lllongforthesedayswhenyouhavenolittleassesto
wipe,nospit-uppermanentlygluedtoyourneck.AmIright,girls?”

TheStarahsnodwisely.

“ImadeTarabreakfastinbedtoday,”Luckysays.“Shehasthewholedayoff.Nohousework,nokid
care.”

“Sowhatareyoudoinghere?Time’sa’wastin’,”Icomment.

TaralaughsandleansherheadagainstLucky’sshoulder.“WhereelsewouldIwanttobe?”sheasks.

“Oh,gack,”Ianswer,pretendingtovomit.“Whataboutyou,Sarah?DidJackhonoryouinsomeway,
preferablybyspendinglotsofmoney?”

“Yes,hedid,”sheanswers.“Likethewell-trainedhusbandheis.Seemynewearrings?”Shepushes
herhairbehindherears.

“Beautiful,”Isay.IturntoElaina.“AndMark?Anythingfromhim?”

“Well,actually,youknow,thebastarddidcomethrough,”Elainaadmits,toyingwithherhair.“Dylan
hadacardandsomenicebathstuffformethismorning,andhesaidDaddytoldhimtogiveittome.”
Herdarkeyessoften.“Sothatwasnice,youknow?”

Ireallyamsurroundedbywomenwhoarewonderful,caring,selflessmothers.Smart,wise,funny,
loving,patient.Andmyuterusisbeggingforthechancetojointhecrowd.

Asifreadingmymind,Elainaturnstome.“I’mthinkingagirl,first,youknow?Withblondhairlike
herdaddy,okay?Andthenaboy.Dr.DarlingJunior.”

“Whycan’tthegirlbeDr.DarlingJunior?”Iask,tryingtopictureRyannexttomeinthedelivery
room.

“Oh,that’sright!”Sarahsqueals.“Weheardyouhadanewboyfriend!Tellall,Chastity!”

Atthatmoment,Trevorstickshisheadinthelivingroom.“Hi,girls,”hegrins.“HappyMother ’s
Day,yougorgeouscreatures.”Andthenhelooksatme.“Hey,Chas.”

“Biteme,Trev,”Iansweragreeably.“InotethatI’mnotlumpedinwiththegorgeouscreatures.”

“YouknowIthinkyou’rebeautiful.Striking.”Hewinksandmyinsidesgiveanunwillingtwist.Then
hecomesin,severalbouquetsinhisarms,andgoesfirsttoSarah.“Thankyouforsharingyourkids
withme,”hesays,kissingheronthecheek.HerepeatsthegestureandthewordswithTara,then
Elaina.Eachofmysisters-in-lawhugshim,exclaimsoverhisthoughtfulness,wipesawayatear.

“Kiss-ass,”Imurmurasheapproachesme.I’mhopinghewon’tnoticethatmyeyesarewet,too.

“Iwasthinkingmorealongthelinesof‘princeamongmen,’”heanswers.Heholdsoutthelast
bouquettome.“Foryou,Chas.Justsoyoudon’thaveatantrum.”

Myheartacheswith,um,let’ssee…affection.Yes.“Consolationprize,huh?”

“Notexactly,”hemurmurs.

TheimageofhimandPerfectHaydenleapsunbiddentomymind,andjustinthenickoftime.I
wonderifhedidsomethingsweetforHayden.OrAngela.Oranyoftheotherwomenhemayormay
notbeseeing.

“Trev,thankyou,sweetie,”Elainasays.“Yourasslooksgreatinthosejeans,bytheway.Carhartt,
mm-mm!”TheStarahsmurmurinagreement.Luckyrollshiseyes.“Butweweretalkingabout
Chastity’slovelife,”Elainacontinues,givingmeasharpglance.“So,Chas?Haveyoudoneityet?”

“We’vebeenonjusttwodates,”Isaydemurely.

“Answerthequestion,”Tarainstructs.

“I’lljustbowouthere,”Trevormurmurs.

“Youdothat,”Elainasays,makingashooinggesturewithherhand.“Wewanttotalksex,okay?You
too,Lucky.Out.”

Ishootheralookthatcouldcutmetal,butshe’sundeterred.TrevorandLuckyobey,asdomostmen
whenElainagivesanorder.

“Yestothesex,”Ianswer.Mysisters-in-lawshriekandIgrin,pleasedtobethecenterofallthis
feminineattentionforonce.

L

ATERTHATDAY,INORDERTO

countertheeffectsoftoomanycheesedanishesatMom’s,Ipullonmy

runningshoesandcliptheleashtoButtercup’scollar.“We’regoingforarun,youharlot,”Itellher.

“Aaaahhroooorooorooo!”sheanswers.

“Nosexwithanythingunderfiftypounds,youhear?”Shewagsagreeably.“Let’sgo,then.”

ThenIseethelightblinkingontheansweringmachine.“Hello,Chastity,it’sRyanDarling,”comes
RyanDarling’svoice.“JustwantedtoletyouknowthatI’llbeonLongIslandtovisitmymother
today,butIhopetogettogethersoon.Ihadareallynicetimetheothernight.TellButtercupIsaid
hello.Speaktoyousoon.”

Well!That’sprettydamnsweet,isn’tit?Ismile.Therewasalsoanattemptathumorattheend.Good
job,Ryan.Granted,hedidn’tneedtousehislastname—wewerehavingsextwonightsago,soyes,I
dorememberhim.Iwincealittle.Veryenjoyablesex.Pleasant.Reliablysatisfying.Meatloaf.

“I’llshutupnow,”Itellmydog,whoissnufflingatthedoor.“Let’sgoforthatrun.”

Buttercuplopesatmyside,surprisingmewithherenergylevel.Nextweek,wehaveanappointment
togetherspayed,soshemaywellreturntoherprepubescentlevelofmalaise.Butfornow,herears
flopandherjowlsundulate.Weheadforthecemetery.Myulteriormotiveisfirmlyinplace,andmy
timingisperfect.

Trevor ’spickuptruckisthere.He’skneelinginthedirtnexttohissister ’sgraveandlooksupin
surprisewhenhehearsButtercup’stagsjingling.

“Hi,”hesays,rising.Hisjeansaremuddyattheknees.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”

MydogandIslowtoawalk,thenstop.“Well,nowthatIknowButtercupiscapableofforward
movement,IthoughtI’dtakeherwithmewhenIrun.Shecouldusesomeexercise.Isawyourtruck
andhereweare.”

Ifhedoesn’tbuymystory,healsodoesn’tleton.Blushing,IunclipButtercupandlethergosnuffling
amidthegravestones,hertailslicingaudiblythroughtheair,nosegluedtothegroundlikeher
bloodhoundancestors.Shewoofssoftlyandcontinues,happyastheproverbialclam.Trevorwatches
hergo.

Iglancedownathissister ’sgrave,thegirlwhowasbrieflymyfriend.Asistypicalonthegravesof
children,thereisanoceanofpainexpressed.MichelleAnneMeade,ourbeautifulgirl,foreverinour
brokenhearts.Wemissyou,littleangel.Myeyesfill.Hadshehadthechancetogrowup,wemight
stillhavebeenfriends.ShemighthavemadeTrevoranofficialuncle,insteadofhavingthattitlebe
honorary.Herparentsmightnothavedivorced,andTrevormightnothavebeensoalone.

Iknewhe’dbehere.MichellediedonMother ’sDay.Ican’timaginethepainhermothermusthave
felt,muststillfeel.Whatanawfulholidayforsomeonewho’slostachild!

“Wantsomehelp?”Iaskhuskily.Therearestillsixoreightplantsleftinthetray.

“Sure,”heanswers.“Youcanloosentheroots,okay?”

“Looseningtheroots,rogerthat,”Ianswer,kneelingnexttohim.“Andthanksfortheflowers,
Trevor.Youdidn’thaveto.”

“Mypleasure,”hesays,diggingintothedirtwithhistrowel.

Weworkinsilence—well,heworks,Ihand—untiltheplantsareintheground.Inanothermonth,
they’llbebeautiful,butrightnow,theylookalittleforlorn,smallandfar-spacedinthebrownsoil.

“How’syourmom?”Iask.

Hesighsandsitsbackonhisheels,wipinghisdirtyhandsonhisjeans.“She’sokay,”heanswers.

“Doyoutalktohermuch?”

“Aboutonceamonth,”heanswers.

It’shardtoimagine—Trevor,theperfectsontobothmymotherandfather,phoninghisownmom

onlyonceamonth.HeseesDadprobablyfivedaysaweek,dropsinonMomfrequently,helpedJack
putonanewroofonherhouselastmonth,wentcampingwithLuckyandMattlastfall…buthisown
familyislikebitsofmilkweed,blowntothewind.

“Where’syourfatherthesedays?”Iask.

“LastIheardfromhim,hewasinSacramento,”Trevoranswers.“Yougotanymorequestions?”

Ishakemyhead.“Sorry,buddy.Ididn’tmeantopry.”

“Youcanaskwhateveryouwant,Chastity,”hesays.Hesticksouthishandtohelpmerise,andItake
it,thedirtonbothourhandsminglingforabrief,warmmoment.

“Doyoustillmissher?”Iwhisper.Thosepeskytearsareback.Forsuchatoughguy,you’dthinkI’d
cryless.

“Yes,”heanswers,brushingsomestraybitsofdirtfromhergravestone.“Everyday.”Hepauses,then
looksoffacrosstheotherheadstones.Somewhere,windchimesclinkandclang.“Everyday,I
imagineifshewashere,grownup,maybemarried.Howwe’dhavedinnerateachother ’shouses.
Stufflikethat.”Hiseyesaresadandsoft.

Iswallowthefist-sizelumpinmythroat.“She’dhavebeencrazyaboutyou,Trev.”

Trevorsmiles.“Thanks.”

“Andyou’relikeourrealbrother,youknow,”Isay.Iregretthewordsimmediately.

Thesmilefalters.“Thanksagain.”Heputsthetrayinhistruck.“Youwantaridehome?”

“Sure.That’dbegreat.”IwhistleforButtercup,whocomesboundingback,herearsflopping
joyfully.

“DoyouwanttorideinTrevor ’struck?”Iaskher.Shebarksonce.

“Genius,”Trevorsays,hoistingherintothebackofthetruck.Buttercupcollapseslikeherlegswere
shotoutfromunderneathher.Hislaughissoft,practicallyedible,likeariverofchocolate.

Iclimbintothepassenger ’sseat,notingthatmylegsarenowstreakedwithdirt.Also,Ireallyshould
shavemoreoften.AndmyT-shirtisdampwithsweat,gluingAragorn’sfacetomyleftbreast,God
blesshim.ThewordsNoneButTheKingOfGondorMayCommandMearefadedwithage.

“DidItellyousomeonehackedintotheGazette’sWebsite?”IaskasTrevorgetsinbehindthewheel.

“No,”heanswers,turningthekey.“Whathappened?”

Ifillhiminandtellhimaboutthefeelingthatthiswassomethingdonetomepersonally.“Yesterday
whenIcameintowork,mylittle—um,nevermind.”

Trevorglancesatmeasheturnsoutofthecemetery.“What,Chas?”

Isighandlookoutthewindow.“Well,Ihavetheselittlefigurinesonmydesk,youknow?From…
well,fromLordoftheRings,okay,anddon’tsayanythingaboutitbecauseIalreadyknowI’ma
hopelessnerdanddon’tneedyoutopointthatout.”

“Aslongasyou’reaware,”hesays,hiseyescrinkling.

“Soanyway,”Icontinue,“Ialwayshavetheminacertainorder,right?Butyesterday,theywereina
littlecircle.Itwasweird.”

“Maybethecleaningpeopleknockedthemoffbyaccidentandjustputthembackthatway,”Trev
suggests.

“Maybe.Idon’tknow.It’sjustthattheyhad…oh,crap,itsoundssodumb.”

Trevorlaughs.“Pleasetellme.”

Irollmyeyesatmyselfandobey.“Aragornwaslyinginthemiddleofthecircle,facedown,andall
theothercharactersinthisparticularserieshaveweapons.SoitlookedlikeallofAragorn’slittle
friendswerekillinghim.Sortof.”

“Youneedtogetoutmore,”Trevorstates.

“Youasked,youjerk.”

BeforeIrealizeit,we’reonmystreet,pullingupinfrontofmysweetlittlehouse.“Doyouwantto
comein?”Iask.“Haveabeer,maybewatchthegame?”

“Thanksbutno,Chastity,”heanswers.“I’vegot…um…plans.”

Ipause,myhandonthedoorhandle.“AreyoubackwithHayden,Trevor?”

Hedoesn’tanswerrightaway.“Notexactly.”

“Notyet,youmean?”Myvoiceistight.

Hesighs.“She’smentionedthatshe’dlikethat,yes.”

“WhataboutAngela?IthoughtyouweredatingAngela.”I’mgrippingthedoorhandlesohardit
hurts.

“Well,I’vebeenoutwithAngela.Iwouldn’tsaywe’redating,”hesays.

“Wouldshesaythat?”Trevordoesn’tanswer.“Don’tleadheron,Trevor.”

“Iwouldn’tdothat,Chas,”hesaysquietly,staringstraightahead.

“Youwouldn’tmeanto,butyoumight.”

Helooksmestraightintheeye.“No.Iwouldn’tmeanto.”

“Makesureyoudon’t,”Isnap.ThenItakeadeepbreath.“Look,Trev,Iknowyou’reagoodguyand
youcanbewithwhomeveryouwant.Justdoitright,okay?SorryifIsoundedlikeashrew.Thanks
fortheflowers,thanksfortheride.I’llseeyouaround.”

Henods.IjumpoutofthetruckandhaulButtercupoutoftheback.“Seeyou!”Icall,runningintothe
house,mydogfloppingbesideme.

CHAPTERNINETEEN

A

S

I

LEAVE

EMT

CLASSLATER

thatweek,I’maccompaniedbyanunfamiliarsenseofpride.Yes,

pride.I’vealwaysbeenagoodstudent,andsuddenly,I’macingallthechecklistsontakingapatient’s
history,rememberingwhatordertoassesswhichsystems,knowingthephysiologywehaveto
memorizeinordertopassourwrittentest.Suddenly,peopleareaskingmeforhelp,leapingatthe
chancetobemypartner,muchtoErnesto’sannoyance,sinceheconsidersmehisexclusiveproperty.

MaybedatingRyanDarlinghascausedsomemedicalsavvytoruboffonme.Morelikelyit’sjustthat
Idon’thavetoseerealinjuriesjustyet.Don’tactuallyhavetohelpsomeonewho’swrithinginpain.
Smellthesmellsthatgoalongwithinjuryandillness.Seethetwins,BloodandGore.Iswallow.
Soon,ourpracticalsintheemergencyroomwillcomeup,whenwehavetospendanentireshiftin
theE.R.I’mhopingmynursewilljusttellmetostayoutoftheway,cowardthatIam.

Iunchainmymountainbikefromtherackandshouldermybackpack.Ineedtorunhomeandgrab
Buttercup,thenheadoutagain.I’mbabysittingDylanbecauseElainahasadate.Ifeelalittleguilty
aboutenablingmyfriendtogooutwithsomeonewho’snotmybrother.ButMarkhasbroughthis
problemsonhimself,andIloveDylan,histendencytobitemenotwithstanding.

Severalpainandshriek-filledhourslater,Igazedownuponmynephewashesleepsinhiscrib,his
mouthopen,eyelashesfeatheredonhispinkcheeks,snoringjustalittle.Helookslikeanangel.I
knowbetter.

“Iloveyou,Dylan,”Iwhisper,strokingthedeliciousclusterofcurlsatthebackofhishead.Heisa
breathtakinglybeautifulchild—blackhair,darkblueeyes,dimpleslikeMark,curlslikeElaina.Ofall
usgood-lookingO’Neills,I’dhavetosaythatDylanisprobablyourmoststunning,anIrish–Puerto
Ricanspecimenofpurebeauty.Ofcourse,thenthere’sClaire,whoseapricotcheeksareastudyin
porelessperfection.AndOliviaofthecopperycurls.Andlet’snotforgetGraham’sgianteyesand
infectiouslaugh…orChristopher ’selfinsmile…orpink-and-creamJenny.Okay,soI’madoting
aunt.

IhearElaina’scarinthegarage,giveDylanafinalkissandtrotdownstairs.

“Howwasyourdate?”Iaskassheputsherkeysandpursedown.

Sheburstsintotears.

“Lainey!Whathappened?Comeon,sitdown.”Ileadhertothelivingroom.Shesitsdown,grabbing
atissueoffthecoffeetablefirst.

“Didyoucleanupinhere?Itlooksnice,”sheweeps.

“Honey,whathappened?”Iask.

Elainablowshernoseandwipeshereyes.“Oh,Chastity,itwasfine.Niceguy,allthatcrap.I’mnever
seeinghimagain.”

“Why?”Iask.“Washeajerk?Didhedosomething?”

“Well,no,Chastity!Hejustwasn’tyourbrother!”

“Iguessit’stoosoon,huh?”Isuggest.

Shestartssobbinginearnest.“Yourbrother…he’s…Istill…Ijustwish…”

Imoveovertothecouchandputmyarmaroundmyfriend,tearsinmyowneyesatthesightofher
heartbreak.“It’sokay,Elaina.Goaheadandcry.”

Buttercup,whohasbeensleepinginfrontofthefireplace,clambersupandapproachesElaina,putting
herbigheadonElaina’slap.Thiselicitsasloppylaughfrommyfriend.“Evenyourdogfeelssorry
forme.”Shehiccups.“Howpatheticisthat?”

“Very,”Isay,grabbingafewmoretissues.

“So,”Elainasays,saggingbackonthecouch.“IstillloveMark.Iwanttoforgivetheratbastard,
but…”Hervoicetrailsoff,andshelookssosad.

“Hasheapologized,Lainey?”

“Oh,sure.Like,‘IsaidI’msorry!WhatdoIhavetodoforyoutobelieveme?’Thenhestormsoutor
something.Prettycrappyapologyifyouaskme.”Shesniffs.

“Well,whatwouldhehavetodo,Lainey?”Iask.Buttercupwagshertail,knockingoveranemptycup,
thenwoofssoftlyandcollapses,herlegsbucklinginhertrademarkflop.

Elainablowshernoseagain.“Idon’tknow,”shesayshonestly.“Hecan’tevercheatonmeagain,and
howcanIbesureofthat,youknow?Imean,it’sonethingtoberejectedonce.Twice,that’sanother
thingaltogether.Foolmeonce,shameonyou.Foolmetwice,I’mastupididiot…Youknow?”

Inod.“Hashegottenanycounselingoranything?”Iask.MarkisthebrothertowhomIspeakthe
least.LivingwithMattgivesmeaninsider ’sviewonhislife,obviously,andLuckyisthebrother
mostlikeme,andwetalkacoupleoftimesaweek.JackchecksineverySundaynight,doingthe
eldestchildshtick,whichIthinkiskindofcute.

ButMarkisthehigheststrung.Tense,jumpy,toomuchenergy…buthealsohasthebiggestheart.No
onetriesharderthanMark,andnoonescrewsupmore,either.

“HowwasDylan?”Elainaasks,managingawaterysmile.

“Oh,hewasgreat!”Isay,decidingagainsttellingheraboutmynephew’stwenty-seven-minute
screamfestwhenItookhimoutofthetub.Orthebitemarksonmyshoulder.“Anangel.Iwasjust
worshippinghimwhenyoucameup.”

“AndsowhenareyouandDoctorGood-Lookinggonnapopsomeofyourown?”Elainaasks.

Ismile.“Idon’tknow.”

“Butthingsaregood?”

Inod.“Yup.Verygood.He’sawonderfulboyfriend.”

“Howishewonderful?Tellme.Ineedtohearwhatwonderfulislike.”Shewipeshereyesoncemore
andtoyswithalockofhercurlyhair.

“Oh,hesentmeflowersyesterday.HetookmetoanicerestaurantonTuesday,andyesterday,when
hewasstuckinsurgery,hehadanursecallmeandletmeknow.”

“Hehadanursecall?Likeshe’shisansweringserviceorsomething?”Elainasnaps.

“Well,youknow,hewaselbowdeepinsomeone’sabdomenorsomething,Lainey.Somegruesome
rippinginjurything.”

Shesniffs.“Andareyoucrazyabouthim?”Hereyesaretooknowing.

“Yes.Yes,Iam.”Ipause.“I’mgettingthere.”

“Speakingofboyfriends,haveyoumetHarry?Yourmom’sguy?”Elainaasks,kindlychangingthe
subject.

“No,”Ianswer.“ButIdon’tthinkit’stherealthing.She’sjustplayingwithDad.”

“Idon’tknowaboutthat,Chas.”Elainablowshernose.“They’vebeenseeingeachotheralot.”

“DadandMom?”

“No,dummy.YourmomandHarry.”

Alittletrickleofdismaywrigglesthroughmystomach,butIdismissitwithashakeofmyhead.
“Well,whatever.Shewouldn’treallyleavemyfather.”

Elainadoesn’tanswer.

“Atanyrate,”Iannounceheartily,“trynottofeelbad,sweetie.Markwillcomearound.Youkeep
yourchinup,okay?Trueloveconquersall,blahblahbleepingblah.”

“Suchawaywithwords.Nowonderyou’reajournalist.”

Igiveheragentlepunchontheshoulderandfindmyjacket.“Comeon,Buttercup,”Icalltomydog.
Severalminuteslater,whenI’vehauledhertoherfeetandforciblywalkedheroutthedoor,Iclipthe
leashtohercollarandmountmybike.Iloveridingatnight,andButtercupgallumphsalongbeside
me,sloppyandjoyous,aswecruisethroughthedarkstreets,thepinkishglowofthestreetlamps
lightingourway.Upaheadaretwomen,headsclosetogether,shouldersbumping.Loveisintheair,I
thinkwithasmile.AsIapproach,theythoughtfullystepontothestripofgrassbetweenthesidewalk
andthestreet.

“Thanks,guys,”Icall,glancingback.Holycrap!Isuckinaquickbreathandwhipmyheadaround,

swervingslightly.

OneofthemenisTeddyBear,Lucia’sfiancéofthepastfouryears.

CHAPTERTWENTY

S

INCETHEINITIALHACKING

,theEatonFallsGazette’sWebsitehasbeenunsullied.Granted,Icheckit

atleasttentimesadayandhavebecomeobsessedwithonlinesecurity.ButIhaven’treturnedtomy
statusasgoldengirl.Penelopeiscordialbutnotnearlyasfriendlyasbefore.I’mafraidtoaskif
subscriptionshavefallen.Instead,Ijustkeepmyheaddownandworkdiligently.

IaskAngelaifshe’sfreeforlunchand,atnoon,wetakeoursandwichesdowntotheparkalongside
theriver,sittingontheverybenchwhereIsawTrevorwithPerfectHayden.He’soneofthemany
thingsIneedtotalkabouttoday.

“So,Ange,how’sitgoingwithTrevor?”Iask,takingabiteofmymeatballsub.

“He’ssosweet,”shesays.“Really.Suchaniceguy.Andjustsodamncute.”

“Mm,”Isay,chewing.“Doyouthinkitmightgetserious?”

Shetipsherheadtoonesideandadjustsherglasses.“Well,rightnowwe’reatthe‘justfriends’stage.
Honestly,I’mnotsureifthere’sanyrealchemistry.”

Ichokeonameatballbutquicklyrecover.“Really?Nochemistry?WithTrevor?”

Shegrins.“It’snotthathe’snot…youknow.Delicious.Heis.It’sjust…well.We’llsee.”

Iglugsomelemonade,tornbetweenloyalties.ShouldImentionPerfectHayden?ShouldIkeepmy
mouthshut?“Youknow,hewaswithsomeonealongtimeago,”Isay,hopingformiddleground.
“I’mnotsureheevergotoverher.”

Angelanods.“Hm.Yeah.That’sthething.He’sperfectlyniceandfunnyandallthat,butIgetthe
feelingthathe’sphoningitin.”

Ashamefulsenseofsatisfactionleapsinmychest,andIgivemyheadadisgustedshake.Ifhe’s
phoningitin,it’sbecausePerfectHaydenisbackintown.Shewhobrokehisheart.Thegirlhe
wantedtomarry.

“AnymoreproblemsontheWebsite?”Angelaasks.

“No,”Ianswer,gratefulforthenewsubject.“ButAngela,youknowthoselittleLordoftheRings
figuresIhaveonmydesk?”

“Sure,”shesays,takingabiteofhersalad.

“Well,someone’sbeenmessingwiththem.Lastweek,theywererearrangedkindofstrangely.Then
thismorning,whenIcamein,Aragorn’sheadwasmissing.Snappedoff.”

Angelafrowns.“That’screepy,Chastity.”

“Iknowit.IfeellikeI’mbeingstalkedorsomething.”

“Shouldyoutellthepolice?”sheasks.

Isigh.“Idon’tknow.Thethingis,onlystaffhaskeystothebuilding,right?SoIgetthefeelingthat
it’sjustkindofameanprank.”

“Whowoulddothat?”Angelasays.“Lucia?”

Iclosemyeyes.“She’stheonlyonewhoseemstoreallydislikeme.Thatdoesn’tmeanshedid
anything,butstill.”We’rebothquietforaminute,thewindrustlingthroughthemapleandcherry
trees.Ateenagerbladesby,apparentlyplayinghooky.“Listen,Ange,onanothersubject,”Isay
awkwardly.“Ihavetoaskyousomething,justbetweenthetwoofus.”

“Sure,”shesays.

“Ihavethis,um,friend,okay?AndIsawher…um…boyfriendwithsomeoneelse.ShouldIsay
something?”Iwince.“Imean,it’snoneofmybusiness,butifoneofmyfriendsknewsomething
aboutmyboyfriend…Crap.Idon’tknow.Probablynot,huh?”

“DearAbbywouldsayyou’djustbeblamed,”Angelamurmurs.“Shootthemessengerandallthat.”

“Yeah,”Iagree.“Iguess.Damnedifyoudo,damnedifyoudon’t.”

“Ifitwasme,Iwouldn’tsayanything,”shesays.

Uponreturningtotheoffice,AngelaandIaregreetedwithascowlfromLucia,whodoesn’tlikethe
factthatAngelaandIarefriends.“Staffmeetinginten,”shesnaps,peckingawayonhercomputer.

IzipovertomydesktochecktheWebsite,justincaseit’sbeencorruptedagain.No.It’sclear.And
themoodoftheofficeislight.Carl,ourfearlessphotographer,isgrinning,andPenelopeislaughing
onthephoneinheroffice.

“Haveyouheard?”Alanasks,leaningonmycubicle,smilingbroadly.Histoothhardlybothersme
thesedays.

“No.What’sup?”Iask.

“Youhaven’theard?”herepeats.

“No.”

“I’llletPenelopetellyou,then,”hesays,amblingaway.Hegiveshispantsatugandstopstochatwith
Angela.

Whenwe’reallsettledintheconferenceroom,Penelopeswaysin,grinningfromeartoear.“This
morning,assomeofyouknow,”shesaysgrandly,“therewasafireattheGraystoneApartments.”

Ilurchupinmyseat.Ifanyoneofmyfamilywashurt—whydidn’tanyonecallme?Ismydadokay?
Mattie?Trevor?

“Noonewashurt,”Pensays,correctlyreadingmyface.Isagback,myheartrateslowing.Angela
patsmyhand.

“Atanyrate,”Pencontinues,“ourfearlessphotographerdrovetothescenejustintimetosnapafew
shots.Carl?Wouldyouliketodothehonors?”

Carlispracticallybursting.“Thanks,Pen,”hesays.“Ladiesandgents,picturenumberone.”Heholds
upadry-mountedcolorphotoaboutthreefeetsquare.Isuckinabreath.“That’sanO’Neill,isn’tit,
Chastity?”heasks.

“Yes,”Isay,flushingwithpride.“MybrotherMark.”

Inthephoto,Mark’swearinghisgearandyellowhelmet,theeyeshieldpushedup.Hisfaceissooty
andserious,andinhisglovedhands,he’sholdingatabbycat.Behindthem,blacksmokepoursoutof
abrickapartmentbuilding.Thecat’smouthishangingopen,itseyeswideandsomehowsightless.It
looksdead.

“Oh,thepoorkitty!”Luciaexclaims.

“Anyhumansinthatbuilding?”Peteasks.“Notthatwedon’tcareaboutPuss’nBootsthere.”

“Nohumans,”Alansays.“Carl,showthemthenextshot.”

“Thefamilywasoutofstate,thankGod,”Carlsays.“Firebrokeoutaboutsixthismorning.”Hepicks
upanotherphoto,clearlyenjoyingthemoment.

ThisoneshowsMarklyingthecatdownonthepavement.Hosesnakesaroundonthedampground,
andfirefighters’bootsareinthebackground.Thecat’smouthiswideopen;itseyesstareatthesky.

“Butwait…there’smore!”Pencrows.

“Thesearefantastic,Carl,”Daniellesays,cominginforacloserlook.She’sright—thedetailiscrisp,
thebackgroundwellframed.

“Thanks,”hesays,thatshit-eatinggrinstillfirmlyinplace.“Andontopicturenumberthree.”

ThisoneshowsMarkholdingasmalloxygenconeoverthecat’smouth,itspawsstiffintheair.
Mark’sfaceisintent,hishandbehindthecat’sneck.

“Oh,no!”Luciasays.Therearetearsinhereyes.

“Don’tworry,Lu,”Carlsays.

“IthinkIknowwhat’scoming,”Angelasays,smiling.

Carlholdsupthefourthpictureintriumph.There’sMark,laughing,blueeyesglowing,facesooty,
lookingjustsodanghandsomeasthecatrubsitsheadagainstitssavior ’schin.

“Yourbrotherresuscitatedthatcat,Chastity!”Penelopeannounces,incasewemissedit.“AndCarl

gotitonfilm!”

Weallburstintocheersandapplause.I’mglowingwithprideandaffectionformybrother—hemay
havehisflaws,buttodayhesavedalife.Acat’slife,butalifenonetheless.

“Congratulations,Carl!Beautifuljob!”Isay,shakinghishand.

“There’smore,people!”Penelopecallsoverournoise.“Attention,please!Notonlyareyoulooking
attomorrow’sfrontpage—you’relookingatYahoo’spicturesoftheday!”

Ourcheersturntoshrieksofamazementandjoy.Wehugandlaugh,Luciaiscrying,Penelopeis
practicallyfloating,andCarlisaglow.“Champagne,everyone!”Pencallsout.

“IwanttogettheseontheWebsiterightthisminute,”Isayasshepours.

“Goodidea,Chas,”shereturns,handingmeaglassofchampers.“Andpleasetellyourbrotherthat
we’reveryproudofhim.”

“Iwill.Thanks.Hey,Carl,canIhavecopiesofthosepicturesformynephew?Mark’sson?”

“Ofcourse,”hesaysgrandly.“I’lle-mailyouthefiles.”

Igivehimanotherhug.“Greatjob,Carl.Again.Welldone.”

“Iknowit.”Hebeams.“Thismaybethebestdayofmylife.”

I’msohappyfortheGazette.It’shuge,beingonYahoo!Tomorrow’spaperwillsellout,eventhough
we’llprintextracopies.Carl’scareerhasjustenjoyedahugerush;andthethrillofthesepictures
beingseenworldwidemustbeindescribable.

Igettomycomputer,extractthefilesandopentheWebsite.Noporn,thankgoodness.Imakethe
picturesasbigaspossible,placingthemtwoovertwo.“Alan,doyouhaveaheadline?”Icall.

Hestickshisheadoutoftheconferenceroom.“‘NoLifeTooSmallForEatonFallsFirefighters,’”
hesays.“Subheadshouldread‘EFFDbattlesapartmentfire.Familypetsaved.’”Alansmiles.“You
mustbesoproud,Chas.”

“Iam,Alan.Thanks.”ItypeinhisheadersandupdatetheWebsite,thendialMark’scell.Hisvoice
mailpicksup.“Hey,Mark,youbigstronghero,you!Congratulations!I’llseeyoulater,okay?Love
you.”ThenIclickonmye-mailtosendhimamessage,justontheoffchancethathe’shome.

Ihaveanewmessage.Fromme,apparently.Sure,Isendmyselfmessagesfromtimetotime—Don’t
forgettopickupElaina—orsomethinglikethat,buttothebestofmyrecollection,Ihaven’tsent
myselfanythingtoday.Withacoldsenseoftrepidation,Iclickonthemessage,whichisentitled
‘chastity.’

You’reanegotisticalbitch,youknowthat?Takealookinthemirror,Hulk.Youlooklikeaman.

CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE

T

WOHOURSLATER

,A

NGELAAND

Iareonourwaytothefirehouseinhercar.

Ididn’tsayanythingaboutthee-mail,notwantingtotakethemomentawayfromCarl.ButI’malittle
scared.Kindofalot,actually.I’llprobablycallthepolicelateronandaskifthere’sanythingtheycan
do.Someoneistryingtocreepmeout,andthatsomeoneisdoingagreatjob.

IshovemydarkthoughtsawayandtrytofocusonMarkandthefire,Carlandhispictures.Icanthink
aboutmycyberstalkerlateron.

Penelopeinstructedustointerviewafewfirefighters.Angela,beingthefoodeditor,isobviously
goingtofocusonfood—firehousefavorites,cookingforthecrowd,heroes’recipes,etcetera.Igetto
doanotherintheHometownHeroesseries.Alanhasalreadyinterviewedthechief,thefiremarshal
andseveraloftheguysatthecall.Sukihascalledthefamily,whowasonvacationinFloridaandis
nowheadedhome.Tomorrow’seditionoftheEatonFallsGazettewillbealmostentirelyfocusedon
firefighters.

Idon’thavetimetocallElaina,butIcan’twaittotalktoher.Maybethiswillbeaturningpointfor
Mark,thisexcellentpublicity.Maybehe’llcomeoutofhisangryphaseandstartfeelinggoodabout
himselfforachange.God,Ihopeso.

Angelapullsintotheparkinglotofthefirehouse.It’shardtofindaspace.Asistrueaftermostfires,
thereareseveralplatoonspresent,hangingaround,dissectingthefire,talkingtotheguyswhosaw
flame,pickingaparttheperformancesoftheirpeers.Wegetout,grabthepictures(onloan,since
Carlwantstogazeuponthemsomemore)andgoinside.Markisinthetruckbay,atthecenterofa
knotoffirefighters—Dad,Matt,Jake,Santo,GeorgeandHelen,EatonFalls’sonlyfemalefirefighter.

“Nicesave,Mark,”Isayasweapproach.

“Hey,Sis,”Marksayswithagrin.Iseenowthathe’sholdingatoycat,agiftfromoneoftheguys,no
doubt.Hewavesitspawatme.“Itwasonlyacat.”Thestuffedanimalmeowsandwealllaugh.

“Well,weallknowhowmuchyoulovepussies,”Jakeannounces.

Mark’ssmiledropslikelead,andsilencefallsoverthegroup.

“Jake,keepyourmouthshut,asshole,”Santosays.

“Gocleanhose,”myfatherorderstersely.Jakeskulksoff.Dadscowlsafterhim,thencomesoverto
me.“Hi,Porkchop.Yourbrothersavedakitty-cat.”

“SoIsaw,”Ianswer.“Checkitout,Mark.”AngelaandIshowhimthepictures.Hischeeksreddenin
pleasure.

“You’reblushing,yousexybeast,”Santocoos,andalltheguyscrackup.

“ThesepicturesareonYahooalready,”Angelasays.Silencefalls.

“Wow,”Helensays.“FameforlittleoldEatonFalls.”

“Yourmotherwilllovethese,”Dadmurmurs.“I’mgonnacallherrightnow.Yahoo,yousay,
Porkchop?”

“Dad,thisisAngela,”Isay.“Angela,myfather,CaptainMikeO’Neill,andmyheroicbrotherMark,
andmyotherheroicbrother,Matt,andSantoandHelenandtherestofthegang.”

“Hi,”Mattsays,smiling.

“Hello,”shesays,blushing.Howcute.

“Dad,”Isay,“we’redoingafeatureonlocalheroes—”Dadrollshiseyes“—andthechiefalready
clearedit,sodon’tbothercomplaining.Angelaisourfoodeditor,andshe’dliketotalktosomeof
youaboutfirehousefood.”

“ThisiswhereIgohome,”Helensays.

Igrin.“AndI’msupposedtointerviewsomeguysaboutsavinglives.”

“Chiefokayedthis?”Dadsayswithapainedlook.Inodfirmly.“Fine.”Hesighs.“Let’ssee,who’sthe
bestcookaroundhere…hm.Matt!Youdoit,son.”

“Sure,”Mattsays.“Wanttoseethekitchen?”heasksAngela,whosefaceisbrightred.“You’re
Trevor ’sAngela,right?”

“Um…I…we…”shestammers,andItrynottolaugh.Mybrothersareahandsomelot,butIcan’tsay
thatI’veeverseenawomanquitesoaffectedbefore.PerhapsnowIshouldtellheraboutthetimeMatt
dressedupinmypinkEasterdressandmatchinghatwhenhewassix…butno,they’realreadyoffto
thekitchen.

“Andwhatelsedoyouneed,Porkchop?”Dadasksme.

“Justtotalktosomeofyouaboutbeingheroic,manlyalphadogswhorisktheirlivestosavetherest
ofuspoorslobs.Or,inMark’scase,poorkitty-cats.”

Dadmakesaface.“Idon’tknow,honey.Weallkindofhatethatcrap.”

“Thatcrapismybreadandbutter,Daddy.I’munderordersfrommyeditor.”

Hesighs.“Fine.Youoweme.Whodoyouwanttotalkto?Mark?”

“Well,no,sinceAlanalreadygothim.Plusthere’sthefamilyconnection,sonoO’Neills.”

“WouldJakedo?”Dadasks.

“Ineedsomeonewhocanspeakinfullsentences.”

“Right.Santo?Howaboutyou?”Dadasks.“CaretotalktoChastityforthepaper?”

“Sorry,Chas.No.HowaboutHelen?”Santosmilesapologetically.

“Helenhasleftthebuilding,”Georgeoffers.

“Howaboutyou,then,George?”Iask.

“Yeah…no.Sorry,kid.Igottago,too.Beenhereallday.”Hepatsmyshoulderandheadsout.

Isigh.Iknewitwouldbelikethis.Firefightersareamodestbunch.Theylovewhattheydo,talkabout
itendlesslywitheachother.Butwhenitcomestopublicadulation,theyclamupandcrediteveryone
butthemselves.

“Sorry,sweetie,”Dadsays.

Justthen,Trevorappearsfromthetruckbay.“Trevor!”Dadbarks.“You’rebusted,son.Comeover
here.”

“Hey,Chastity,”hesays.Hestillsmellsofsmoke,andmystomachlurchesatthethoughtofhimina
burningbuilding.

“Wereyouonthecall?”Iask.

“Yeah,”heanswers.“IwasinforDave.Markmadearealnicegrab.”Hegrins,andIlookaway
quickly.

“Chastityneedstointerviewsomeoneforherpaper,andnoonewantstodoit.Howaboutit?”

Trevormakesthesamefaceofpainmyfathermade.

“Comeon!”Isay.“Please,Trev?Myeditorwon’tbelievethatnoonewouldtalktome.I’llprobably
befired.”Nottrueatall.“Youdon’twantthatonyourhead,doyou?”

“Fine.”Hesighs.“Wheredoyouwanttogo?”

“Somewherequiet,”Isay.

“Wanttositoutside?It’sabeautifulday.”

Wegotothebackofthefirehouse,wherethere’sapicnictableandafewplasticchairs.Thesky
glimmersbrightbluewithcreamycumuluscloudspiledontopofeachother.Birdiessinginthe
trees,andthemountainsglowgreeninthebackground.Evenattheedgeoftheparkinglot,it’s
bleepinggorgeous.

Trevsitsdownandfoldshisarmsacrosshischestintextbook“Idon’twanttotalk”bodylanguage.

“Ireallyappreciatethis,”Isay,takingoutmynotebook.“I’llmakeitfun,okay?”

“Makeitquick,how’sthat?”Hesmilestotaketheedgeoutofhiswords.

“So,Trev,haveyoualwayswantedtobeafirefighter?”Iask,givinghimasmile.

Hisownsmiledropsintoafrown,andhejuststaresatmeintently.

“Isthereabeeonme?”Iask.

“What’swrong,Chas?”

“Nothing,”Iprotest.“I’m…I’mfine.Why?”

“Youlook…somethinghappened,didn’tit?”heasksgently,leaningforward.

Itakeabreath,holdit,thenletitgo.“Don’ttellmydad,”Ibegin.

“Shit.Isitthatdoctor?”Hisfacedarkenssuddenly.

“No!No,Ryan’sfine.He’s…he’sgreat.”Isigh.“RememberItoldyouthatIthoughtsomeonewas
botheringmeatwork,messingupmystuff?”Henods.“Well,someonesentmeameane-mailtoday.”

“Who?”heasks.

“Idon’tknow.Itsaiditwasfromme,sogofigure.”

“Whatdiditsay?”heasks.

Iglanceawayfromhisdark,darkeyes.“Oh,nothingtooscary.ThatIwas,um,abitch.Andugly.He
calledmeHulk.LikeHulkHogan,Iguess,ortheIncredibleHulk.Eitherway,lessthanflattering,you
know?”

It’swhenhetakesmyhandthatmyeyesfill.Hishandiswarmandsmoothandcalloused,anditfeels
sogoodandreassuringandperfect.Embarrassed,Iwipemyeyeswithmyfreehand.

“Areyougoingtothepolice?”heasks.

“Yeah,maybe.”

“Youare.AndI’mcomingwithyou.”

“No,you’renot.I’ll—”

“I’mcoming,Chas.”Hesqueezesmyhand,thenletsitgo,andforaminute,myhandjustdoesn’t
knowwhattodo,likeitspurposeinlifehasbeentakenaway.“Yousavedthee-mail,right?”Trev
asks.

“Right,”Ianswer.

“Goodgirl.”

Iswallow,thenlookdownatmynotebook.“Well,Istillhavetodothislittleprofile,okay?Soifyou
don’tmind…”

“Sure.Fireaway.”

We’rebacktonormal,thatstrangestateofjustalittlemorethanfriends.“Okay.Trev,whydidyou
becomeafirefighter?”Iask.

“Tobelikeyourdad.”Theanswerisimmediate.

Ismilealittleatthat,eventhoughIknewtheanswer.“Anddoyouloveit?”

“Yup.Soarewedone?”Hegrins.

Ilaugh.“Thesequestionsaredesignedtoputyouatease,Trevor,andIcanseethatthey’reworking
justgreat.Takeabreath,relax.We’rejustgettingstarted.”

“Ijustdon’treallylikethissortofthing.”

“Whynot?Youguysarethebomb!Everyonelovesfiremen.Youknowthat.”

Herollshiseyes.“Well,Idon’twanttomakemyselfouttobeahero.Nobodydoes.”

“Butyouareheroesandwedoloveyou.Soshutupandgetoverit,bub.”Hesmilesandmycheeks
feelalittlehot.“So,FirefighterMeade,what’sthebestpartofthisjob?”

“ServingthecommunityofEatonFalls.”

Iwait,butheseemsfinished.“Trevor,”Isaythroughgrittedteeth,“cooperate.”

“Fine.Itbeatsbeingagarbageman,okay?”

Ithrowmypendownindisgust.“Myfathersaidyou’dhelpme,okay?Sodoit,orI’mtelling.”

Finally,helaughs.“Okay,youbigbaby.”

“Don’tmakemehurtyou.”Ipickupmypenagain.“IfIweretoquoteyouassayingsomethinglike,
‘I’mproudtoservethepeopleofEatonFalls…it’sgoodtoknowthatmyjobletsmehelpthosein
need’…wouldthatbeokay?”

“Aslongasyoumakeitsoundbetterthanthat,thensure,Iguess.”

Iletthatonepass.“Tellmewhatit’sliketoworkatsavinglives.”Igivehimmybestinterviewsmile.

“Itbeatsnotsavinglives.”

“Youknow,youweresonicebefore,andyetnowIwanttohityou.”

“Comeon,Chas!”hesays.“Whocananswerthisstuff?”Iglare.Heshiftsinthechair.“Okay.”He
sighs.“Well,ofcoursewedon’tgettosaveliveseveryday,orevensavebuildings.Mostofour
work,asyoualreadyknow,ismedicals,automaticalarms,caraccidents.Butyeah,onceinawhile,
wegettosavealife.”

“Canyougivemesomeexamples?”Iask.

Hethinks.“Acoupledaysago,wehadthisguyaboutfifty,fifty-fiveyearsold.Hehadaheartattack,
andwedidCPR,shockedhim,gotarhythmback.”

“Didhemakeit?”Iask.

“No,”Trevorsays.“Hediedthenextday.MostpeoplewhogetCPRdon’tmakeit.”He’squietfora
minute.“Buthediedwithhisfamilyaroundhim,andtheyhadalittletimetopreparethemselves,to
saythingstohim,evenifhecouldn’thearit.”

Mychestaches.“That’sagift,Trevor,”Iwhisper.“Yougavethemachancetosaygoodbye.”

Heshrugs,lookinguncomfortable.“Itwould’vebeennicertogivethembacktheirfather.Husband.”

“Butstill.”Hesaysnothing.“Anyothersleaptomind?”

Hesighs.“Well,lastsummertherewasakidwhofellintheriver,andwepulledherout.Shelived.A
littlebraindamage,butshe’sdoingokay.”

“Doyoueverseeher?”

Hislooksatmesharply.“Don’tprintthis,okay?”Inod.“Yeah,Istillseeher.Iwasondiveteamthat
day,andI’mtheonewhopulledherout.Shewalkswithalimpnow,butshe’sdoingfine.”

“God,Trev!Yousavedachild’slife.”Somehow,thatstorywasn’tpasseddowntomeinNewark.I
canhardlystandtopictureit,theimageissoterrifyingandheroic…Trevorpullingachildfromthe
water,loadingherintotheambulance,visitingherinthehospital.Iclearmythroat.Trevorisstaring
attheground.

“Okay,Trev,let’stalkaboutthefeelings,becausereaderslovetogetalltouchy-feely.Howdoesit
feel,knowingyousavedalife?Knowingthatyou’reahero?”

Trevordoesn’tlookupfromthepavement.“Idon’tthinkI’manydifferentfromanyoneelse.Ijust
haveabetterjobthanmostpeople.”

“You’rewrong,”Isaywithoutthinking.“I’dgiveanythingtosavesomebody.Toreallymakea
difference.”

Helooksup,staresatmeforabeat.“Youdo,Chastity.Andyouhave.”

There’ssomethinginhiseyesthatIcan’tdiscern,somethingsadandintent,andIwishIcouldcrawl
ontohislapandhughim.Thenhelooksaway,glancesathiswatch,andthemomentisover.

Iswallow.“Well,Imeantmakingadifferenceinthebigschemeofthings.‘Hewhosavesonelife
savestheworld’andallthat.”

“What’sthatfrom?TheBible?”

“Schindler’sListiswhereIheardit.”

Trevorlaughs.“Chastity,you’resofunny.Hey,speakingofheroes,herecomesCat-Man.”

Ilookuptoseemybrothercomingtowardusfromthebackdoorofthefiredepartment.“Andthena
herocomesalong,”Ising.“Withthestrengthtocarryakitty-cat…”

“Whatthefuckwereyouthinking?”Markdemands,lurchingtoahaltinfrontofme.

Iblink.“Excuseme?”

“Youfuckingbabysitwhilemywifegoesonadate?”heyells,plantinghimselftwofeetinfrontof
me.“Whatthefuckisthatabout,youstupididiot?”

“Easy,Mark,”Trevorsays,standing.“Calmdown.”

“Stayoutofthis,Trevor.IjustgotoffthephonewithElainaandshesaidyouwereovertherelast
nightwhileshewasoffwithsomefuckingmorondoingGodknowswhat!Youstayoutofmy
business,Chastity,andleavemyfamilyalone.”

Ahot,slowwaveofangerrollsupthroughme.“Mark,”Igrindout,standingupandtakingastep
towardhim.“Yourfamily,youass,alsohappenstobemyfamily.You’retheonewhoscrewedthings
upwithElaina,sodon’tgoblamingmeifshegoesonadate,okay?”

“Youthinkyouknoweverything,Chastity?”Bynow,severalotherfirefightersaregatheredatthe
backdoor,reluctanttobecomeinvolvedinafamilysquabble,butnotabouttoignoreit,either.“Don’t
youeverbabysitformysonagain!”

“Oh,forpete’ssake!”Isay.

“Notwhenmywifeisscrewingaroundonme!”

“Mark,settledown,”Trevorsaysagain.

“Fuckoff,Trevor!”Markbellows.Trevorstepsinfrontofme,butIshovepasthim.

“You’remakinganidiotofyourself,MarkO’Neill,”Ihiss.“Again.Okay?Justshutupandgetsome
counseling.”

Mark’sfistsclench.“Youlittlebitch,”hesnarls.

“Mark!”Trevorbarks.“Enough!”

Markturnsonhim.“Whosesideareyouon,anyway?”hedemands.

“Chastity’s,”Trevoranswersinstantly.

“Why?Areyoufuckingher?”

Trevor ’smouthclampsintoahardline.Hisarmgoesbacktohitmybrother,butI’mfaster.Myfist
connectswithMark’sjawwithasatisfyingthunk.Painshootsupmyarmlikeaknife,andMark
staggersback,stunned.Thenmyfatheristhere,grabbingMark.

“Whatthehellisgoingonhere?”hesnaps.

“Gethimhome,Mike,”Trevorsays.“Chastity,youokay?”

Myknucklesarekillingme,myarmthrobs,butIwon’tgiveMarkthesatisfactionofseeingme
wince.Ihaven’tpunchedabrothersinceIwastwelve,butyouknowwhat?Markhaditcoming.

“Chas?”Trevorsays,puttinghishandonmyshoulder.

“I’mfine,”Isaytightly,shrugginghimoff.

“Whathappened?”Dadasks.Markisrubbinghisjawandglaringatme.“Didyouthreatenyoursister,
Mark?”

“Jesus,Dad,stayoutofit.Sheoverreacted,asusual,”Markgrumbles.

“Ioverreacted,”Irepeat.“That’srich,Mark.”

“Mark,getofffirehouseproperty,”Dadsaysincaptainmode.“Gohomeandcooloff,whateverthe
hellitisyou’remadaboutthistime.I’llbeoverwhenI’mdonehere.”

Markobeys,muttering,shovinghiswaypasttheguyswhojustwatchedhissisterslughim.

“Chastity.”Dadsighs.“Maybeyoushouldgo.”

“Okay,”Iwhisper,mythroatsuddenlytight.Dadwalkstowardthefirehouse,sayssomethingtothe
guysanddisappearsinside.

“Iwasplanningonhittinghim,youknow,”Trevorsays,andthere’sasmileinhisvoice.“Youdidn’t
haveto.Butthanksfordefendingmyhonor.”

“It’snotfunny,”Isay.Infact,myeyesarestingingwithtears.“Don’tletthemmakefunofMark,
okay?Thisshould’vebeenagreatdayforhim.”

“I’lltakecareofit,”Trevorsays.Hetakesmyhandandlooksatit,thenlooksbackintomyeyes.
“Let’sgetyouanicepack.”Hisvoiceisgentle.

“RemindmenevertopickafightwiththeO’Neillgirl,”SantosaysadmiringlyasTrevorandIgo
inside.

AngelaandMattareinthekitchen,laughingatthestove.Theybothstartwhenwecomein.Trevor
grabsanicepack,wrapsitinapapertowelandputsitonmyhand.“Igotit,”Isay,holdingitinplace.
Myheartfeelssoreandtoobigformychest,andanymoresweetnessfromTrevorandI’llstart
bawling.

“Youokay,Chas?”Mattasks.

“I’llfillyouinlater,”Trevsaysquietly.“Hi,Angela.Ididn’tknowyouwerehere.”Hesmiles,butit’s
forced.

“Hi,Trevor,”sheanswers.“Um,sorry,IwasinterviewingMatt.Foranarticle.Firehousepizza.”

“Weneedtogo,Ange,”Isay.Mythroatisstillconstrictedwithangerandsorrow.

“Okay,”shesays,frowningatthelookonmyface.“Matt,thankyousomuch.Thiswasgreat.I’lle-
mailyouifIhaveanyquestions.”

“Sure.Nicemeetingyou.”

Angelablushesandgrabsherthings.TrevorandMattsaygoodbyeandwewalkouttotheparkinglot.

“Iseverythingokay?”sheasks,openingthedriver ’sdoor.

“Yup.Justalittlespatwithmybrother,”Ianswer.

“Oh,”shemurmurs.“I’msorry,Chastity.”Wegetintothecar,andAngelastartstheengine.“Mattis
reallynice,atanyrate.”

“He’sgreat,”Iagree,thenturnmyfaceawayandrestmyforeheadagainstthewindow.

CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO

T

HERESTOFTHEDAYISSOBUSY

—theYahoopicturescauseallsortsofcoverage,includingme

interviewingCarlhimself—thatIdon’thaveachancetotellPenelopeaboutthenastye-mail.Icallher
whenIgethomethatnightandfillherin,tellheraboutAragorn’sbeheading.Itsoundssobleeping
dumbwhenIsayitaloud.

“Callthepolice,”shesays.“Seeifthere’sanythingtheycando.Thissucks,Chastity.”

“It’snotahugedeal,”Isay,strokingButtercup’ssensitiveears.“Butyeah,I’dfeelbetter.”AndsoI
callthecomputercrimesspecialistatthepolicedepartment,whoseemstotakealotofnotesandsays
they’llsendsomeoneintorunsomediagnosticsonmycomputer.

“Nothing’shappeninganywherebutwork?”thecopasks.

“Correct,”Ianswer.“Ifeeldumbbotheringyouwithsomethingsosmall.”

“Bettertoreportitthannot,”shesays.“Youneverknowwhatwhackosareoutthere,prowlingon
innocentpeople.”

Gee,thanks,lady.“Right,”Isay.

Mattisworkingthatnight,soButtercupandIarealone.IstickTheFellowshipoftheRingintheDVD
player.JustasI’msettlingin,apintofBen&Jerry’sinonehand,thephonerings.

“Hello,there,”Ryansays.“Howareyou?”

“Oh,hey,Ryan,”Isay.“I’mokay.Ihadkindofacrappyday,actually.”

“Sorrytohearthat,”hesays.“What—damn.Chastity,I’mbeingpaged.CanIcallyoulater?I’mreally
sorry.You’reallright,aren’tyou?”

“Yes,I’mfine.Yougo.Iunderstand.”

“Loveyou,”hesaysandhangsup.

Isquinchmyrighteyeshutandgritmyteeth.Helovesme?Sincewhen?Thatdidn’tsoundvery
convincing.We’vebeenonfivedates.Slepttogetherthreetimes.Helovesme?

“Shutit,Chastity,”Isayaloud.It’snotimpossiblethatamancouldfallinlovewithmeinthespaceof
afewweeks.“IguessI’maveryloveableperson,Buttercup,”Isay.“Don’tyouagree?”

Shedoes.Shelicksmyfaceandlaysherheadbackinmylapwithasigh.

I’mjustatthePrancingPonyscenewherewefirstmeetthedarkanddeliciousAragornwhenaknock
interruptsme.It’sMark,aboxofTwinkiesunderhisarm,abouquetofirisesinhishand.“Hi.I’m
sorry,”hesays,thrustingthegiftsatme.AnyresidualangerImighthavehadmeltsawayatthesight
ofhistormentedface.

“Comein,pal,”Itellhim,puttinghisofferingsonthehalltable.

Hetakesoffhiscoat,stoppingtoletButtercupsniffhisshoesbeforesittingonthecouch.“Whatare
youwatching?”heasks,gesturingattheTV.

“LordoftheRings,”Ianswer.TurningofftheDVDplayerandTV,Iturntofacemydifficultbrother.
“Areyouokay?”

Hetakesadeepbreath.“No.”

“CanIdoanything?”

“Youshouldbemadatme,Chas.Shit,Ireallyfuckedup,didn’tI?”

“Well,I’mnotmad,Mark.GladIpunchedyou,yes,butnotmad.I’mjustworriedaboutyou,that’s
all.”

Hegivesabitterlaugh.“Why?Isn’tmylifegoinggreat?Comeon,dog.Sitwithme.”Buttercup
lungesonthecouchnexttohim,settlingherheadonhislapwithagroan.

“Mark,”Ibegintentatively,“whatdoyouwanttohappennext?WithElainaandDylanand
everything?”

“Iwanteverythingtogobacktowhereitwas,”heanswersthickly,pettingButtercupandnotlooking
atme.

“Thatcan’thappen.”

“Iknow.SoI’mstuck.Shewon’tforgiveme.”AtearplopsontoButtercup’shead,butMarkkeeps
petting.

“Shewantsto,youknow.”

“Shesaysshecan’ttrustme.”Hisvoiceisheavy.Markdoesn’tcry.Me,Iblubberanocean.Mark…
he’sadesert.

“Honey,”Isaygently,“ittakestime.Youhavetokeeptrying,showherthatyoucanbetrusted.”He
shrugs.“AndMark,you’reamess.You’resoangryandbitter,andthethingis,youshouldbekissing
Elaina’sfeet.Youshoulddowhateverittakestogetherback.She’sthebestthingthateverhappened
toyou,andyou’regoingtoloseher.”

Mybrotherputshishandoverhiseyes.“Idon’tknowwhattodo,Chas.Iwanttodotherightthing,
andIjustkeepgettingfurtherandfurtherawayfromwhereIneedtobe.I’mlost.”Heshakeshishead,
thisbig,handsome,cat-savingbrotherofmine,tearsdrippingoutfromunderneathhishand,andmy
heartaches.

“Okay.Here’swhattodo.Buttercup,down,girl.”IdragmydogoffthecouchandsitnexttoMark,
puttingmyarmaroundhim.“First,youneedtogetsomeangermanagementorsomething.A
psychiatrist,atherapist,something.Wouldyoudothat?”Henods.“ThenaskElainaifshe’llgoto

marriagecounseling.”

“That’salotofshrinks,Chas.”

“So?Youjustsaidyou’relost.Thisisawaytogetfound.”

“Whatelse?”heasks.

“YoutellElainathatnothingismoreimportantthanherandDylan,andyouwantthemback.Simple
asthat,Mark.Don’ttellherthatshe’sbitterorhowsheshouldbefeeling,don’tputconditionsonit,
justtellher.Shestilllovesyou,honey.”

“Didshetellyouthat?”heasks.

“Yes.”Hisshouldersjerk.“Shemissesthemanyouusedtobe,Mark.”

Withthat,mybrotherputsbotharmsaroundmeandbawlsintomyshoulderlikeaonehundredand
eighty-fivepoundbaby.Afteraminute,Buttercupjoinsin,bayingsympathetically,andMarkgivesa
shakylaugh.Ipathisbackandtellhimhe’sgoingtobejustfine.

CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE

O

VERTHEWEEKEND,WEARE

summonedforafamilydinneratMom’s.Dadwon’tbecoming.Harry

will.Momwantsustomeethim.It’sgivingmeastomachache.

“Soyou’regoing?”myfatherdemandsoverthephone.I’vejustreturnedfromarow,needtoshower,
checktheWebsitefrommyhomecomputer,makesureIhaven’treceivedanymorecreepye-mails
andgenerallydon’twanttotalktomydadabouthisproblemswithMom.

“Yes,Dad.I’mgoing.”

“Iwishyouwouldn’t,”hemutters.

“Well,look.Ifyoudon’twantMomdatingothermen,thengetoffyourscrawnyIrishbuttanddo
something,okay?Youknowwhatshewants.Youknowherconditions.Makeyourchoice,Dad.I’m
hangingupnow.”

Ishoweranddresswithcare,becausenotonlywillwebemeetingHarry,Ryaniscomingtohisfirst
officialO’Neillfamilygathering.Hepicksmeupatthestrokeoftwo,givesButtercupatentativepat,
andwalksmetothecar.There’sabouquetofyellowrosesinthebackseat.

“Foryourmom,”Ryansays,smiling,andIfeelarushofaffectionforhim.

“She’lljustloveyou,Ryan,”Isaysincerely.

“I’msurethefeelingwillbemutual,”hesays,leaningovertokissme.Thenhestartsthecarand
backsoutofmydriveway.

MymotherisbuzzingwithenergyassheyanksopenthedoorwhenRyanandIarrive.

“Hello!”shecries.“I’msohappytoseeyou,Ryan!Ilovedyourclass!You’reawonderfulteacher!
Hello!Welcome!”

“Down,girl,”Isay,leaningdowntheeightnecessaryinchestokisshercheek.

“Sonicetoseeyouagain,Mrs.O’Neill,”Ryansays,handinghertheflowers.

Mompreparestofaintwithjoy.“Flowers!Oh!Howthoughtful!Aren’tyouwonderful!”

Irollmyeyes.“Itsmellsgoodinhere,Mom,”Isaysuspiciously.“Didyouhaveitcatered?”

“Oh,Chastity!She’sjoking,ofcourse,Ryan.Ilovetocook.”Momzipstothestove.“No,I’vebeen
takingafewclasses,that’sall.”

Iglanceintheoventoseeabeautifulcrownroast,goldenandsucculent.Mymouthwaters.“Ifeellike
I’minasciencefictionmovie.Mom’shouse.Goodfood.Soweird,”Imurmur.Momgivesmeaswat.

“Auntie!WildWildWolves!Please!Please!”

“Hi,Sophie!Notrightnow,sweetheart.”Igathermynieceupforaquickkiss,thensetherdown.
“Ryan,preparetomeettherestofthefamily.Girdyourloins,pal.”Ileadhimintothelivingroom,
wheretherestofthefamilyiscrowded.

Forasecond,IseethemasRyanmight…thetall,good-lookingmen,theirattractivewives,the
beautifulkids…thenoise,thebickering,theshrieking,therunning,thebiting.Well,that’sjustwhowe
are.

“Guys,letmedothisallatonce,”Isayloudly.“Thisismyboyfriend,RyanDarling.Ryan,don’teven
trytogeteveryone’snames,butheretheyare,mybrothers,Matthew—you’vealreadymethim—
there’sMark,thatone’sLuke,akaLucky,andJohn,betterknownasJack.Mysisters-in-law,Sarahand
Tara,alsoknownastheStarahs,andElaina,whomyoumayknowfromthehospital.”

“Ofcourse,”Ryansays.ElainagivesmeherLatinhead-wiggle—she’salreadytoldmethatshe’s
nevermetRyanpersonally,justseenhimaroundandlistenedtothegossiponhim.

“Andthesearemyniecesandnephews,”Icontinue,pointingoutthekidsasIlistthem.“Christopher,
Graham,Claire,Olivia,Dylan,Sophie,AnnieandJenny.Questions?Comments?No?Good.How
aboutaBloodyMary?”

“Verynicetomeetyouall,”Ryansaysrathergrandly.

TheStarahsdescenduponRyan,eagertoscreenhimasmypotentialmate.Thekidsswarmme,their
voicesblendingintoonegiantrequest.“Auntie!Auntie!CanweplayGiantBaby/WildWild
Wolves/hide-and-seek/pushmeontheswings?Canwe?Canwe?Huh?Please?Auntie!I’mtalkingto
you!”IpickupGrahaminonearm,Annieintheother,andnibbleontheirtastylittlenecks,causing
themtosquirmandgiggleanddemandmore.

MymotherjoinstheknotofappreciativewomenaroundRyan,makingsureeveryoneknowsthat
Chastity’sBoyfriendbroughtherroses.JackremindsRyanofwhenhischopperdeliveredatrauma
patienttothehospitallastweek,andthey’rediscussingthevictim’sprognosis.

Thedoorbellrings,and,beingclosesttothedoor,Iopenit.It’sTrevor.Andwithhim,Perfect
Hayden.

“Holycrap,”Iblurt,evergracious.“Per—Wow!Hayden!Howareyou?Hi!Comeonin!”

“Hi,Chastity,”shesays,smilingcoolly.“Nicetoseeyou.”Herstraight,silkyblondhairiscutinto
interestinglayersandherclotheslookexpensive,classicandcool…andsmall.She’sasizesix.
Maybeafour.

“Hey,Chas,”Trevorsaysquietly,followingherin.

Thecrowdgrowsquietuponsightingthenewarrivals.Whethersheknowsitornot,PerfectHayden’s
inenemyterritory.ShedumpedourTrevor,andwehaven’tforgivenherforbreakinghisvaliant
heart.Thebitch.

Butstill.We’renotmeanpeopleatheart,andwithinafewminutes,she’sholdingJennyandtalkingto
SarahaboutlifeinAlbany.Sheglancesatme,hereyesslidingawayjustasIforceasmile.

It’ssocrowdedinMom’slivingroom,andsobleepingloud,kidseverywhere,PerfectHaydenright
inthemiddleofthings.“WhowantstoseeFindingNemo?”Iask,openingthedoortothebasement.
ThekidsswarmaftermelikebeesanddrapethemselvesoverthebatteredcouchandLazyBoychair
thatmakeuptheseatingchoicesdownthere.

“Okay,kids,thereyougo,”Isayasthemoviecomeson.Theydon’tanswer,slack-jawedand
hypnotizedalreadyoverthismoviethey’veallseenadozentimes.Good.Ineedamoment.

Myeyesfeelhot.Myheartisroaringinmyears.Inotethatmyhandsareshakingalittle.

Mattcomesgalumphingdownthestairs.“Hey.I’llhangoutwiththekids.Yougouptoyour
boyfriend.”

Iforceasmile.“Sure.Thanks,Mattie.”

“Youbet.TheprivilegeofbeingsingleisthatIdon’thavetoschmooze.”

“Luckyboy,”Isay.“Hey,what’sHaydendoinghere?DidTrevsay?”Imakesuremyvoicestayslight.

“Yeah,actually.Theywerehangingoutthismorning,Iguess,andwhensheheardhewascoming
here,sheaskedifshecouldtagalong.Saiditwouldbenicetogettoknowusagain.”

Withoutquitemeaningto,Imakearudesnortingnoise.

“She’snotbad,Chas,”Mattsays.

“IthoughthewasseeingAngela,”Iremindhim.“Myfriend.Also,Ithoughtwehatedher,sinceshe
ditchedTrevor.”

“Whatever.”Mattshrugs.“Kids,makeroomforUncleMatt,okay?”

Itrudgeupstairsintothewarmscentofporkandgravy.There’sHayden,standingoh-so-closeto
Trevor,holdingmyniece,lookingquitethenuclearfamily.Whatasweetbleepingpicture,dark-
hairedTrev,blondPerfectHaydenandoneattractivebaby.Freakingadorable.Mattsaidtheywere
hangingoutthismorning.Whichmeansshesleptover.Whichmeans—

“Iloveyourfamily,”Ryansaysintomyear,makingmejump.

“Great!”Isay.“Well,Itoldyouthey’dbecrazyaboutyou,too.”

Ryansmileshisperfectsmileandslipsmeaquickkiss.Ican’thelpbutnoticethatTrevoriswatching,
andsure,it’sstupid,butIturntoRyanandkisshimback.

“Ryan!”criesmymother,bustlingoutofthekitchen.“Irememberyousayingthatyou’reasurgeon!
Howlovely!Yourparentsmustbesoproud!”

“She’susingtheFatherDonnellyvoice,”Jackcomments.

“Shedoesn’twantChastoblowit.She’salwayswantedadoctorinthefamily,”Luckyanswers.

Ishootmybrothersaglancethatpromisespainandhumiliationasmymothercontinuestobabble.

“Thankyou,”Ryansays.“They’requiteproud,yes.”Hesqueezesmyhand.“Andeagertomeet
Chastity,ofcourse.You’veraisedawonderfuldaughter,Mrs.O’Neill.”Luckymakesachokingnoise.

“Oh!CallmeBetty!”Momcriesmerrily.“I’vegottostirthegravy!”Anothercarpullsupinfrontof
thehouse,andMompeersoutthewindow.HervoicedropsoutoftheFatherDonnellyrangeintothe
GeneralPattonbaritonewe’remoreaccustomedtohearing.“Harry’shere,”sheannounces.“Boys.
Behave.Doyouunderstandme?”Hervoicepitchesupandshebustlestothekitchendoor.“Harry!
Hello!Comemeetmychildren!”

HarryThomastonisahandsomeman,shorterthanmyfatherbutrobust,withsilverhairanddark
eyes.Hekissesmymotheronthecheek.“Helloeveryone.”

Weallshakehandsandexchangepleasantries,albeitwithaconsiderablelackofsincerity.Harry
looksatmymotherwithadorationplaininhiseyes.Itdoesn’tfeelgood.Noneofusreallybelieves
thatMomandDadwillactuallysplitup,despitetheirdivorce.They’retooembeddedwitheachother.
Butheresheis,cluckingandcooinglikeapigeon,flutteringaboutHarryinanalltoocheeryway.

Ryanknowsmyparentsaredivorced,buthedoesn’tknowthedetailsorpersonalitiesinvolved.“Ryan
Darling,”hesays,shakingHarry’shand.“I’mChastity’ssignificantother.”

“Luckyman,”Harrysaysgallantly.

Ican’thelpbutnoticethatHaydeniswhisperingintoTrevor ’searandsmiling.Withoutthinking,I
slipmyarmaroundRyan’swaist.

Andsoitbegins.Myone-sidedcontestofwhomakesacutercouple.

MymotherforcesthekidstocomeupstairsandmeetHarry.Moreintroductionsaremade.Trevor
swoopsDylanupinhisarms,introduceshimtoHaydenashisgodson,allowsSophietoclimbonhis
backandmessuphishair.Clearly,Trevoriswinningthe“bestwithchildren”title.

Tostrikeback,IsummonClaire.“Whatdoyouthinkofmyboyfriend?”Iwhisperloudlyenoughfor
alltohear.“Isn’thesohandsome?”Claireburstsintogiggles,asIthoughtshewould,andRyan
smilesgamely.GrahampleadswithTrevortobeheld,andTrevobliges.Therefore,Igrab
Christopher.“Guesswhat,Chris?Ryanreattacheslimbsforaliving.”

“Awesome!”Christopherbreatheswithadmiration.

“That’snotactuallytrue,”Ryansays.“I’mnotanorthopedist,thoughIassistwithreattachmentshere
andthere.”

“He’smoreofabloodandgutsman,”Isaytomynephew.Ryanfrowns.Yes,he’salittlestiffaround
thekids.HeasksChrisaboutschool,asubjectguaranteedtosuckthelifeoutofanyten-year-old.But
whocanblamepoorRyan?Myniecesandnephewsarelikeaschoolofdolphins,leaping,diving,
shrieking,eating.Theymustbeoverwhelmingtoamanfromasmall,quietfamily.

“They’reallsavages,”IwhisperinRyan’sear,havingtostandontiptoetodoit.Well,Idon’treally
needto,butIdo,justtoreinforcethepointthatRyanistallerthanTrevor.IseeTrevlookingandtake
theopportunitytostrokeRyan’sneck.See?He’sagreatguy,good-lookingandsmart,andI’mcrazy
abouthim.Andthefeelingismutual.I’mwellawareofmyimmaturity,butdamnit!Ican’thelpit.I
hatePerfectHayden.Shehasyettospeaktome,exceptfortheinitialrequiredhello.Ifeellike
sluggingher.

JackandSarahoffertosupervisethekidsinthekitchen.Ienvythem.Today’sadayI’dreallyliketo
bewiththekids.It’ssoawkward—Ryanbeingsobleepingpolite,PerfectHaydenflippingherwell-
behavedhair,anothermantouchingmymother.

Nonetheless,Iwedgemyselfaroundthetablewiththeotheradults.Mark,Inotice,sitsnexttoElaina,
whodoesn’tprotest,shootdaggersathimormakethatcoolhissingnoise.Ryan’snexttome—he
holdsmychairwiththemannersofaprince—andPerfectHaydenscootsaroundTaratomakesure
shegetstheplacenexttoTrev.There’sanawkwardmomentwhenMomushersHarrytotheheadof
thetable.Mybrothersfreeze,andHarrytakesthehint.“I’llsitnexttoyou,Betty.Matthew,here,take
thisseat,”heoffers.Igivehimpointsforgraceunderpressure.Momshootstheboysher“I’llbeat
youlater”glare.

“So,Harry,”Isaygamely,“Momsaysyou’reretired?”

“Iam,Chastity,”hesays,turningmywaywithasmile.“Irecentlysoldmycompany,whichmadea
tinypartofacomputerchip.Notthemostinterestingworkintheworldtotalkabout,butIlikedit.
AndnowI’mtryingtodomoretraveling.”

“Great,”Isay,stiflingasigh.Arichretireewholikestotravel.Dadisreallyblowingit.Itakeabite
ofthetenderpork.It’sfantastic.Unbelievable.

“Doyouhaveanychildren?”Ryanasks.

“Ihavetwodaughters,”hesays.“Martha,who’sforty-threeandhasatwelve-year-oldson,andGreta,
who’sthirty-sevenandhasthreechildren,twoboysandagirl.Andyou,Ryan?Anychildren?”

Ryansmilescrookedly,hiseyescrinkling.IbelieveTarasighs.“Notyet,Harry.Butwhenthetime
comes,I’dlovetohaveacouple.”Helooksatmemeaningfully.Myjawclenches.WhydoIfeelI’ve
justbeengivenamandateformotherhood?Nooneelsesaysanythingforamoment.

“So!”MomannouncesassheshovesaplattertowardJack.“Trevor ’sherewithHayden,Chastity’sgot
hernicedoctor,andHarryishere!Isn’tthisnice!”

Markrollshiseyes,andMattsmirks,butnoonecontradictsher.

“Harry,”Momgoesoninthevacuumofconversation,“HaydenandTrevorwereengagedonce.Isn’t
itnicetoseeyoutwobacktogether!”

Haydensmilesdemurely.“Thanks,Mrs.O’Neill.”Mygriponmyforktightens.

“Andwhywasitthatyoutwobrokeupinthefirstplace?”Momasks.

“Mom!Noneofyourbusiness!”Iblurt.

“No,that’sanaturalquestion,Mrs.O.,”Haydensays.Oh,Ihateher.Trevorconcentratesonhisplate.
“Ithinkthetimingwasjustwrong,that’sall.”ShesmilesatTrevor,whodoesn’tcontradicther.
Doesn’tactuallyagree,butdoesn’tcontradict,either.

Mystomachaches.Angelawasonething,PerfectHaydenanotherthingaltogether.She’snotworthy
ofTrevor.She’shadherchance.Sheblewit.Whyisitthatwomenlikeherhaveeverything?The
goodguys,thesmoothhair,theporelessskin,thecutelittlefigure?Why?Huh?

MomturnsthecrosshairsonRyannext.“AndRyan?Whataboutyourpeople?”

“Yourpeople?”Lucky’ssnortturnsintoagruntasTaraelbowshimintheribs.

“MyparentsliveonLongIsland,”hesays.“Ihaveasisterwholivesinthecity.AndIhopeto
introduceChastitytothemsoon.”Helooksatmeseriously.“Verysoon.”

“Ican’twaittomeetthem,”Isay,slippingmyhandontohisthigh.Hesmiles.Ismileback.Myhead
hurts.

“Sothingsareserious?”mymomasks,scoopingmorescallopedpotatoesontoherplate.

“Absolutely,”Ryananswers.

Iopenmymouthtosaysomething—what,Idon’tknow—butthere’sacrashinthekitchen,wherethe
kidsareeatingunderthenotsowatchfuleyesofJackandSarah.

“I’llgoseeiftheyneedhelp,”Ioffer,boltingfromthetable.

“What’sgoingon?”Sarahwhispers,noddingtowardthediningroom.

“Auntie!”thekidschorus.AblobofchewedupgreenbeanfallsoutofDylan’smouth,buthejust
shovesitbackin,unconcerned.

“Mom’sinterrogatingTrevorandmeaboutourintentions,”Ianswer,thenrealizinghowthatsounds,
backpedalfuriously.“Imean,sheaskedTrevorifhe’sseriouswithHayden,andthesameaboutRyan
andme.”

“Iknowwhatyoumeant.”Shesmiles.

“Willyoueatwithus,Auntie?”Oliviaasks.She’snowmissinghertwofrontteethandlookscuter
thanever.Plus,Igetagreatviewofherchewedupfood.

“Chastityhasherspecialfriendvisitingtoday,honey,”Jackanswers.“Andareyouserious,Chas?He
seemslikeaprettygoodguy.”

“Gorgeous,”Sarahmurmurs.“Absolutelygorgeous.”

“Yeah.Sure.He’sgreat,”Isay.“We’reserious.Orgettingthere.”Ipause.“Jack,doyouknowhim

fromaroundthehospital?”

Jackhesitates.“Yeah,I’veseenhimhereandthere.”

“Andhowisheinaction?”

Jacktakesasipofhisbeer.“Well,youknow,Chas…he’sasurgeon.Allbusiness,notthetypetobe
buddieswithuslowlyparamedics.”Heraisesaneyebrow.“Butifhe’streatingyouwell,thenIwon’t
careaboutthat.”

Theif-only’saretryingtomakethemselvesheardinmybrain.IfonlyTrevor…IfonlyHayden…If
only…“Youguysneedanything?”IaskasClairetormentsAnniebyshowingherthecontentsofher
mouth.“Wine?Sedativesforthechildren?”

JackshiftsJennytohisotherarmandcatchesChristopher ’sglassjustbeforeitfalls.“We’refine,
Chas.Thanks,kiddo.”

Withoutanythingholdingmeinthekitchen,Igobacktomyplace.Haydenmurmurssomethingto
Trevor,andhegrinsreluctantly,anditiswithaprivatevengeancethatIscootchmychairthatmuch
closertoRyan’s.

“Iknowwhatyouweredoingtoday,”Elainastateslaterthatnight.We’resprawledinherlivingroom,
bothofusdisgustinglyfullfromtheunexpectedfeastatMom’s,bothofuswearingsweats,bothofus
contemplatingsomeBen&Jerry’s.Dylanissleeping,exhaustedfromthecousins.

“What?”Iask.

“Giveitup,Chas.IsawyouwatchingTrevor,comparinghimtoRyan,doingthatlovey-doveything
everytimeHaydensaidbootoTrev.”

Crap.Ididn’tknowIwassobleepingtransparent.“Oh,”Imumble.

“Letitgo,Chas.Thatshipsailed,right?Letitgo.YouhaveagreatthinggoingonwithRyan.Doyou
knowhowmanywomenatthehospitalwouldkilltheirgrandmotherstohaveachancewiththat
guy?”

“Iknow,andIlikehim!He’sgreat.”

“SowhyareyoustillhookedonTrevor?”

“IamnothookedonTrevor!”Shesnorts.“I’mnot!”Iprotest.“Iwas,butI’mnotanymore!Ihavea
boyfriendandwe’rehavingamarveloustime,okay?”

“Right.”

Isigh,deflating.“SowhatshouldIdo,Lainey?Huh?EverytimeIseeTrevor…shit.Idon’tevenwant
tofollowthattrainofthought.”

Elainashiftsinherchair.“Yeah,yeah.Maybeyoucouldjust…”Hervoicetrailsoff.“Youhaveto

haveabetterattitude,okay?StoplookingatRyanassecondbest.He’sgotalotofgoodthingsabout
him,doesn’the?Andhereallylikesyou,Chas.”

Iswallow.“Iknow.He’sagoodguy.”

“Sowhatisit?”

“IguessIfeellikehewaslookingforacandidateforwife,andIsortoffitthebill.”

“Maybeyoujustneedtospendmoretimetogether.Shiftyourattitude,querida.Trevorwasyourfirst
love,buthedoesn’thavetobethegoldstandardofmen.”

Exceptheis.Elainareadsmythoughtscorrectlyandthrowsapillowatmyhead.“AtleastgiveRyana
realchance,Chas,”shesays.“Yousaidyouthoughtyoucouldlovethisguy,didn’tyou?”

“You’reright,youpainintheass.Let’shittheicecream.”

“Soundsgood.”Elainapushesexperimentallyonherabdomen.“IthinkIgainedfivepoundstoday.
WhoknewMamícouldcooklikethat?Fantastic.”

IgotothekitchenandreturnwithbowlsofCoffeeHeathBarCrunchtoppedwithbillowsofwhipped
cream.Elainatakesabite,moansandgivesmetheheadwiggle.“How’sthesex?Isthesexgood?”

Irollmyeyes.“Yes,Elaina,thesexisfine.It’sverygood.”Notalie.Ryanisverypleasinginbed.
Verypleasing.Jeesh,listentome.“Let’stalkaboutyourlovelife.YouandMarkwerequitecivil
today.Veryunusual.So,how’sitgoing?Anyprogress?”

Shechewssolemnly.“Yes.Andthat’sallI’mtalkingabout.Oneofthethingshebroughtupin
counselingisthatItellyoueverything.Oh,andbytheway,you’renotsupposedtoknowwe’regoing
tocounseling.”

Ismile.“Whodoyouthinktoldhimtogo,dummy?”

L

YINGAWAKEINBEDTHATNIGHT

,IcometotherealizationthatElainaisright.SeeingTrevorand

Haydentogetheragainmadesomethingclickintoplace.Thatshipsailed.Trainleftthestation.
Airplanehastakenoff.AndRyanreallyisawonderfulguy,despitehissurgeon-arrogancething.I’ll
listenwithamoresincereheartwhenhecalls,letmyselfbecharmedbyhispreciselyconsiderate,
almostcourtlyways.Icanmakethingsworkwithhim.Iwillhaveawonderful,full,happylife.Iwill.
Ialreadydo.

CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR

T

HEPOLICEDEPARTMENT’S

computerspecialistisnamed,ofallthings,Chip.AsinComputerChip.

Hehasevictedmefrommydeskandispresentlycombingthroughmyfiles,checkingtoseeifhecan
findoutwhohackedintomysystem.Ihaven’thadanymorenastye-mails,andnoonehasgotten
throughthenewfirewalls.Noonehasfurtherhurtmylittletoys,either.Rightnow,IwishIhadn’t
calledthecoppers,sinceitseemstohaveblownover.Andbecausemycubicleistoosmallfortwo
(unlessIsitonComputerChip’slap,whichIthinkhe’dlikeverymuch),andbecauseAlanisusingthe
conferenceroomforaninterview,I’mforcedtoworkonalaptopinthereceptionarea,directlyin
frontofLucia.

“Computersaresuchtrouble,”sheannouncesinhertight,judgmentalvoice.“Idon’tevenhaveoneat
home.”

“TeddyBeardoesn’tneedone?”Iask.

“TeddyandIdon’tlivetogetheryet,”sheanswers.“We’rewaitinguntilwe’remarried.Saving
ourselvestilltheweddingnight.”

Isthatwhathe’stellingyou?Iwanttoask.Idon’twishtopictureLucia’slovelifewithTeddyBear,
butcomeon!Doesshethinkit’snormalforamaninhislatethirtiestobeengagedforalmostfive
yearsandnothavesex?Comeon!

“Well,ItoldPenelope,”shecontinues.“Iknewthepapershouldn’thavestartedaWebsite.‘It’llstop
peoplefrombuyingthepaper,’Isaid.”

Irollmyeyes,bitemytongue,clenchmytoes,butnothingworks.“That’sjustnaive,Lucia,”Itellher.
“WeneedaWebsite.Intenyears,theremightnotbeapaperanymore,buttherewillstillbeaWeb
site.”

“Youdon’tknowthat,”shesays.“Weweresupposedtobetakingabustothemoonbynow,too.”

Iopenmymouthtoprotest,butheck,she’sright.Sheflipsopenhercompactandchecksherman-in-
the-iron-maskstylemakeup.Today’slipstickisablood-redmatte,whichI’veneveronceseen
smearedoronherteeth.She’soneofthose.

Asifreadingmymind,shesays,“Youshouldwearmoremakeup,Chastity.”

“Itendtolooklikeadragqueeninmoremakeup,”Isay,glancingatmywatch.

“Well,Ihappentothinkawomanshouldcareaboutherappearance,”shesayswithadisdainful
glanceatmychinos,perfectlyacceptableblueoxfordandsnazzyredhigh-tops.“Ihappentothinka
womanshouldlookherbestatalltimes.”

“AndIhappentothinkyou’dlookalotprettierifyouchiseledoffsomeofthatKabukimakeupand
returnedtothelandoftheliving,”Ireturnwithabigfakesmile.Shemerelygivesmeapityinglook
andanswersthephonewithhertrademarksong.“EatonFallsGaze-ette!LuciaDownsspeaking!”

“Ican’tfindanything,”ComputerChipsaysasheapproachesme.“Whoeverdidithidhisrouteand
hiditwell.WiththenumberofhitsyougetontheWebsite,itwouldtakeweeks,possiblymonths,to
findout.Andyourcaseisn’texactlyabigpriorityrightnow.”

“ButitwouldbeifIwere,say,murdered?”Iask.

“Definitely.”Hegrins.“Youwannagooutsometime,Chastity?”

Ismile.“Thanks,butno.I’mseeingsomeone.”

“Andit’sserious?”heasks.

“Mm-hm.”

“Toobadforme.Okay.Seeyouaround.”

“Bye,Chip,”Icall.

Luciahasonher“Isteppedinfecalmatter”look.“Ididn’tknowyouwereseeingsomeone,Chastity,”
shesays.

“I’mdatingRyanDarling,”Isay,andforthefirsttime,itfeelsgreattodrophiscredentials.“Doyou
knowhim?He’sadoctor.Traumasurgeon.Blackbeltinkarate.Blondhair,greeneyes,sixfoottwo,
bodylikeMatthewMcConnaughey.I’mgoingdowntotheHamptonsthisweekendtomeethisparents.
Well.MusttalktoPen.Seeyou,Lucia.”

T

HREEDAYSLATER

,I’veneverbeensohappytobebackhome.

ThetriptoLongIslandwasamixedbag.Thebadthing…well,we’llgettothat.Thegoodthing:We
gottoseeaYankeesgameandtheywon.Oh,andoursexlifehasmadetheleaptohyperspace,and
notjustbecauseIwaswithinspittingdistanceofDerekJeter(thoughthatcouldn’thavehurt).

Dr.andMrs.Darling(whomIwasurgedtocallDr.andMrs.Darling)…well,they’rethekindof
peopleI’vereadabout.LiveintheHamptons,golf,lunch,redecoratetheirsixteen-room“cottage.”
TheirlastvacationwasspentinBrazilhaving“someworkdone.”Bothofthemwerequitekeenon
thenewestlaserface-lift/Botoxtreatmentandurgedmetogiveitago.Me.Thirty-oneyearsold,
beingurgedbymypotentialin-lawstohaveaface-lift,twentyminutesafterwalkingthroughthe
impressivefrontdoor.Istifledmyurgetorun,andtriedtobeopen-minded.

Meanwhile,Bubbles,themuchadoredChihuahuaoftheelderDarlings,snappedandsnarledatmy
luggagefromMrs.Darling’sarms.“Yi!Yi!Yiyiyiyi!”hebarked,theshrillnoiselikesmall-caliber
bullets.

Mrs.Darlingsethimdown,wherehepromptlyattackedmyovernightbag.“Oh,Bubbles,you
naughtywittledarling!”shesaidinahideousfalsettovoiceashegnawedwithhisbatliketeethonthe
handle.“Don’tyouwuvChastity?Hm?Don’tyoujustwuvChastity?”Shescoopedtheangryrodent
up,wherehecontinuedtosnarlatme,flecksofspittlelandinginMrs.Darling’shair.

ThenIwasabitsurprisedtofindthatIwassupposedtostayinaseparatewing(yes,wing)from
Ryan.Ryanis,afterall,thirty-sixyearsold,andonewouldassumethathisparentswouldn’tfeelthe
needtosegregateus.Buttheydid.Wehadcocktails—martinis,afamilytradition—thenanawkward,
stilteddinner.Glancesofconcernwereexchangedovermylargefamily,Irishsurnameand
profession,thoughtheword“Columbia”broughtatwitchoffrozenlipstobothparentfaces.Mrs.
Darlingbarelyate,whichexplainedwhyshelookedasbonyandunappetizingasthepaleanddoomed
Gollum.

Self-consciousofmystrappingphysique,Ipickedandnibbledaswell,irritatedwithmyselfevenasI
didso,andtriedtofindneutraltopicsofconversation.“So,Dr.Darling,doyou—”

“Yi!Yi!Yi!Yiyiyiyi!”

“Oh,no!Younaughtywittlething!”Mrs.Darlingjerkedupthedamasktableclothandpeered
underneath.“Chastity,don’tfeelbad,butBubblesjusthadawittleaccidentnexttoyou.Hedoesn’tlike
strangers.”

Ryancontinuedtoeathissalmon,grinningvacantlyasMrs.Darlingsentthegrim-facedhousekeeper
intocleanupBubbles’swittleaccident.

Iwasn’texpectingittobefun,exactly…I’vemetparentsbefore,afterall,butthiswassomethingelse
altogether.Someawkwardnessistobeexpected.Butmyjawachedfromallthatsmiling,andmy
shouldersweretight.Whenourendlessdinnerfinallyended,Ryanwalkedmetomybedroomdoor,
professedexhaustionandkissedmeonthecheek.AndIwasmorethanhappytoflopintotheking-
sizebedandfallinstantlyasleep.

Thenextday,wedrovetoYankeeStadium,sittingintrafficforanhourbecauserichpeopledon’t
takethesubway,howeversuperiorpublictransportationmaybeingettingonetotheBronx.Iwas
wearingmyLouGehrigT-shirttoshowhowoldschoolandclassyIwas,andIhadn’tpinstripedmy
face,thoughitisabitofafamilytraditionwhengoingtotheStadium.Ourseatsweretwelverowsoff
thethird-baseline,andIwasalittleovercomewiththethrillofseeingmyboysupclose.Imayhave
screamedafewnamesout,sure.Butthat’snormal,isn’tit?DidIperhapseatalotofhotdogs?Well,
ifyouthinkfourisalot,thenyes,Idid.Remember,though,Ihadn’thadmuchtoeatthenightbefore,
andbreakfastconsistedofmuffinsandcappuccino,while,thoughdelicious,isnotmyusualthree
bowlsofChoco-PuffsorthelumberjackspecialatMinnie’sDiner.

ButIdidhaveagreattimeatthegame.Itwashardnottoscreamoutmyusualencouragement,butI
wasonmybestbehavior(exceptwhenJeterhitalinedrivedoubleintheeighthtoputmyboysinthe
lead.Needlesstosay,Jeterdidnotacceptmymarriageproposal,butIliketothinkhewasflattered,
andIdefinitelyknowheheardme).

Whenwegotback,wewentfordinneratahigh-pressureFrenchrestaurantintown,wherethe
DarlingsschmoozedwithfellowHamptonites,introducingmeas“Ryan’slittlefriend.”Little.
Honestly.I’mfivefootelevenandthree-quarters.I’dlikesomerespect.Ryansmiledandchattedand
heldmyhand,buthehadtakenonthatzombieaffectthatmanymengetinthepresenceoftheir
parents…distantandlifeless.Ipinchedhimonceortwice,justtomakesurehewasstillwithme,and
hejumpedandaskedifmymealwasokay.Whichitwas.Small,expensive,delicious,butsmall,you
know?

Finally,though,Ryansnappedoutofit.Hethoughtitwouldbefuntosneakmeintohisroomàla
collegedays,givingaforbiddenthrilltoournooky.Isneaked,weweredoingitmoreorlesshappily
(Icouldn’tseemtostopthinkingabouthowhungryIwasandhowImightwrangleasnack),whenwe
heardalittlesound.

“Darling?”Mrs.D.crooned,tap-tap-tappingonthedoorwithhermanicuredfingernails.

“Yi!Yi!Yiyiyiyi!”Bubbles.Great.

“Uh,um,hangonasecond,Mother!”blurtedthedevotedson,haulinghisnow-naked,apparently
illicitgirlfriendoutofhisbed.“Chastity,quick!Getinthere!”hewhispered,andifIwasn’tbeing
shovedintothecloset,I’dhavethoughthispanickedexpressionwaskindofcute.ButIwasbeing
shovedintothecloset,alongwithmybraandpanties—butnootherclothes.

“Ryan!”Isquawked.

“Bequiet!Please,Chastity!”hebegged.“I’llexplainlater.”Heslammedthedoorshut.

BeingastallasIam,Icouldn’tstandupstraight,duetothepresenceofashelfthatwasexactlythree
inchesshorterthanIwas.Thus,Ihadtocrouchonsomeancientlacrossegear(bythefeelofit),
whichIfoundabituncomfortable.Clenchingmyjaw,InowfoundthegameofIllicitGirlfriendless
thanfun.Iunderstood(sortof)Ryannotwantingtogetcaughtintheact,butcomeon!Hidingmeina
closet?

Thesoundofpantsbeinghastilyzippedwasheardoverthericochetingyapsofthedog.

“Darling?”Mothercalled.IllicitGirlfriendwonderedwhyMothercouldn’tfindatermofendearment
forDevotedSonotherthantheirmutuallastname.

“Berightthere,Mother!”Therewasapause,thenthesoundofthedooropening.“Hi,Mom!”

IllicitGirlfriendheardthescrabblingoftinytoenailsasBubblestheChihuahuarushedintoroomand
beganafrenziedyappingattheclosetdoor.“Yi!Yiyiyiyi!”

“Darling!Ithoughtwe’dhaveachatandcatchup.Wethinkyour…er…littlefriend…isquite…er…”

“She’sgreat,isn’tshe?”Goodman,Ryan,IllicitGirlfriendthought,tryingtoshiftsothelacrossegear
wasn’tquitesointrusive.

“Yiyiyiyiyi!Yi!Yi!”

“Oh,yes,”Mrs.Darlingsaid.“She’squite…well…Bubbles!Stopyourbarking,darling!You’re
givingMummyamigraine!”

Theminiusculeblacknoseofthebatlike“dog”appearedintheinch-highgapbetweentheclosetdoor
andtheparquetfloor.IllicitGirlfriendtriedtoremainfrozenandsilent.Bubbleswasnotfooled.
Snufflesandfrenziedwhiningensued.Thentinyblacktoenailsbegandiggingfuriouslyunderthe
door.“Yiyiyiyi!”Theminiscule,snufflingnosereturnedwithGestaporuthlessness.

Girlfriend,fearfulofdiscovery,gavesaidnoseashovewithherbigtoe.Asecondlater,tiny,razor
sharpteethhadsunkintoaforementionedtoe.Suppressingheryelpofpain,Girlfriendjerkedfoot
away,causingprecariousbalanceontheaginglacrossegeartosurrender.Girlfriendfell,thudding
againstthewallofcloset,hittingherheadonoldcleats,judgingfromthefeelingofspikesinher
scalp.

“Yi!Yi!Yiyiyiyi!Yi!Yiyi!”

“Whatwasthat?”Mrs.Darlingasked.

“What?”StupidBoyfriendreplied,makingIllicitGirlfriendwonderjustwhatHarvard/Yalehad
impartedonthissupposedlybrilliantmind.

“Whatmadethatthumpingnoise?”Mrs.Darlingqueried.

“Whatthumpingnoise?”

“Istheresomethinginthatcloset?”

“Whatcloset?”

Duetofearofmakingmorenoise,Girlfriendremainedsplayedinsaidcloset,stillclutching
underweartonakedbosom.Girlfriendwasveryawarethat,shouldclosetdoorbeopened,herfemale
anatomywouldbequiteinappropriatelyandwidelyvisible.

Luckily,Bubbles,havingmadethetransitionfromenragedtohysterical,nowbeganthetelltale
soundsofdogvomiting.“Roouh!Rooah!Roouh!Rooaaaaaack!”

“Oh!Oh,no!Bubbles!Ryan!Darling!Callthevet!Bubblesissick!Darling!”

IllicitGirlfriendcouldn’tseetherest,buttherecamethesoundsofrushing.Bubbles’stinypaws
disappearedfromthelimitedviewprovidedbythecrackunderthedoor.

“Bubbles!Poorbaby!Youpoorpoorpoordarling!Didyouhaveawittleaccident?”

Overthebabytalkofmyhostessandthegackingofherdog,IbelieveIheardthewords“Beright
back”frommyboyfriend.

Awelcomesilenceensued.Afterafewdeepbreaths,Idecideditwassafetotakealook.Withaclatter
ofhangers,disentanglinghairfromthecleats,Istoodup,lingeriestillclenchedinmyfist.ThenI
triedthedoor.Itdidn’topen.

Runningmyfingertipsoverthedoorknob,Iascertainedthattherewasnolock,mercifully.Thedoor
wassimplystuck.Igaveatentativeknock.“Ryan?”Iwhisperedloudly.Therewasnoanswer.Sighing,
IassumedthatmyboyfriendhadenlistedtheaidoftheotherDr.Darlinginministeringtothenasty
littlecanine.HowImissedButtercup!Shecouldeatthatyippingrat-doginonegulp.

Itriedthedooragain,whichresistedfirmly.Grittingmyteeth,Ipushedagain.Nothing.Itwasone
thingtohideinaclosetforfiveminutes—itwasevenpossiblethatwe’dlaughaboutthissomeday—

butcomeon!Thiswasgettingridiculous.

Takingastepbackforsomeleverage,Ipushedharder,ensnaringmyhaironsomewoodenhangers.
“Crap!”Iexclaimed.Mybackwascramped,mytoethrobbed.Finally,Iyankedmyhairfree,losinga
fewstrands.Enoughwasenough,damnit!Idroppedtheunderwearand,usingthefamedO’Neill
shoulders,rammedthebleepingdoorlikeanenragedBrahmabull.

Thedoor,nomatchformystrength,burstopen.Istaggeredintotheroom,steppingrightintothe
puddleofdogvomit,nakedasthedayIwasborn.

“Oh,thereyouare,Chastity,”cameavoice.“Wewerelookingforyou.”

Dr.DarlingSeniorstoodinthedoorway.Theblooddrainedfrommyface.Iremainedfrozeninthe
puddleofvomit,horrified,dismayed,unclothed,uncovered,unshielded.“RyanandMrs.Darlingtook
Bubblestothevet,”Dr.DarlingSeniorsaid,givingmetheoldonce-over.“Careforadrink?”

R

YANCAMETOMYROOMLATER

ontocheckinonme.Whichmovesusalongtothejoysofpost-

argumentsex.

See,RyanandIhadn’thadafightyet.No,thingshadbeenreallysmoothforthemonthorsothatwe’d
beenseeingeachother.Therehadsimplybeennothingtofightabout.However,beingshovedintoa
closet,abandonedandtrapped,havingone’spotentialfather-in-lawseeonebreakingdownthedoor,
bucknaked…well,itwasaprettygoodfight.Andlet’sfaceit…itwaskindoffuntobefighting.

“Honey,you’reexaggerating,”RyansaidcalmlyafterIchewedhimout.“I’msorryyou’reupset,but
it’snotlikeIknewtheclosetdoorwouldsticklikethat.IfailtoseewhatIdidwronghere.”

Aseriesofenragedsqueakscameoutofmymouth.“Ryan!I—naked—closet—yourfather!”

“Mymother ’sdogwassick,Chastity.Ihadtohelp.”HelookedsoearnestthatIwantedtoclockhim
one.

Itookadeepbreath.“Youknowwhat,Ry?You’reajerk,”Ifinallymanaged.

“I’mnotajerk,”heprotested.“Ananimalwassick,Chastity.Ihadtohelp.It’sintheHippocratic
oath.”

“Okay,fine!Soyouwerenicetothedog!Butthedogwasn’tsick.ItwashystericalbecauseitknewI
wasinthebleepingcloset,Ryan!Becauseyouputmethere!”

“Chastity,myparentsareverystrictabouthouserules,andIwantedtorespectthat—”

“Bysneakingmeintoyourroomforaquicky?”

“—soIputyouintheclosettoavoidupsettingMother.”

“Thatscaresme,”Isnapped.

“Andthenthedogwassick,”hecontinued,unfazed.“Ididn’tknowyou’dbestuck.Ithoughtyou’dbe
fineforfiveminutes.Okay?Noharmdone.”Hehadtheaudacitytosmile.“Whydon’tyoujusttakea
breathandcalmdown?”

“Calm—calm!Iwon’tcalmdown!Getoutofmyroom!”

“Fine!”hesnapped.“Bethatway!”HestrodeovertowhereIstood,stillhissing,tookholdofmy
shoulders.“Goodnight!”Thenhekissedme.Hard.

Ilookedathimforaheartbeat—theoldbloodwasflowing,youknowwhatImean?ThenIgrabbed
hishairandshovedmytongueinhismouthandthenwewererollingaroundonthebed,thenthe
floor,thenshovingeachotheragainstthewall.Itwasthebestsexwe’dhadyet.

“I’mreallysorry,”hesaidwhenweweredoneandflushedandpanting.“Ishouldneverhaveputyou
inthecloset.”

“Oh,noproblem.All’sforgiven.”Ismiled.Hesmiled.Tenminuteslater,wewereatitagain.

Fortherestoftheweekend,Ryankeptshootingmenewlyappreciativeglances,slippingmeakiss
whenhisparentsweren’tlooking.

Then,onthewaybackfromLongIsland,Iaskedtodrive.“Well,thisisn’taSubaru,Chastity,”Ryan
lectured,glancingatme.“ThisisahighlysophisticatedexampleofsuperiorGermanengineering.”

“Isee.Somypotato-pickingIrishpawsaren’tequippedtoholdthesteeringwheelofthemaster
race?”

“DidIsayanythingaboutpotato-pickingIrishpaws,Chastity?”hesnapped.“No.You’re
exaggerating.Again.Butthiscardoesrequireasubtletouch,ifthat’swhatyou’reasking.”

“Pullover!”Ibarked.

“Fine!”hebarkedback.Andso,attheMaldenreststopinSaugerties,convenientlylocatedjustoff
Interstate87,wehadboisterousmake-upsexinthehighlysophisticatedexampleofsuperiorGerman
engineering.

AndIdidgettodrivetherestofthewayhome.

WhichbringsusbacktowhereIamnow,lyingonmybedwithButtercup,wonderingifthis
relationshipisworkingoutorfailingmiserably.

CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE

T

ODAYISMYSESSIONATTHE

EmergencyRoomofEatonFallsHospital.Withoutpassingit,Iwon’t

passmyEMTcourse.ExactlywhatIhavetodoisamystery.AccordingtoBev,Ijustcheckinwiththe
headnurseanddowhatshesays.Stayoutofthewayandbehelpful.Noswearing.Nohurtingthe
alreadyinjured.

IgiveRosebudafinalpatandheadhometoshowerandeatbreakfast.Penelopewantsmetowritean
articleaboutmyexperiences,Godhelpme.Then,Idroppedabagonthebrokenlegofanelderly
womanwhowasbleedingprofusely…Icringe.HaveIgottenbetter,Iwonder?AmIdesensitizing
myself?Isureashellhopeso.

IhavealittletimetokillbeforereportingtotheE.R.,soItakeoutmyEMTcoursebook.Sittingon
mybed,Buttercupgluedtomyside,Itakeadeepbreath.TodayImayseesomeoftheverythings
listedinside,notinaglossyphotograph,butwrithingonagurney.ItoccurstomethatRyanmaybe
calledtotheE.R.whileI’mtheretoday.Thathe’llseeme.I’dliketobeatmybest.Ican’tmarrya
traumasurgeonandnotbeabletohearabouthiswork,canI?No.

“Sohowwaswork,honey?”Iimaginesaying,offeringhimamartini.

“Oh,somejoggerwasattackedbyamountainlion,”myhandsomehusbandwillsay,nuzzlingmy
neckashegratefullyacceptshismartiniandslideshishandalongmytinywaist.“Lotsoftearing.
Limbshangingbythreads.Majororgandamage.Itwasfun.”

Insteadoffaintingorbarfing,Iwillnodcompassionatelyandaskanintelligentquestion…like…
like…well,I’mfeelingalittlesweatyrightnow,butallthemorereasontostickwithEMTclass.

Iputmyfingeronthetaboftheatlasofthecoursebook.Veryhelpful,thattab,foranyonewishingto
flipdirectlytothegruesomephotos.“Herewego,”IsaytoButtercup,whodoesnotopenherodd-
coloredeyes.Smartdog.IhavenewappreciationforheraftertheweekendwithBubbles.

Takingadeepbreath,Iopenthebookandglancedownatthefirstpage.Abrasion,Road.Alsocalled
roadburn.Seepage—

Islamthebookshut,causingButtercuptoflyoffthebed.“Aaarrarrrooo!”shehowlsindismay.Ifeel
likehowlingmyself.Crap!Mystomachclenches,bileburnsmythroat.Thephotoshowedaribcage,
shreddedandflakedwithbitsoftornskinthatlookedlikepinkcoconut,blackbitsofgravel,angry
redwelts,mercilessscrapes…Okay!Noneedtodwell!Wesawit.Let’smoveon.

Iseemtobeswallowinganawfullot,butIhaven’tfainted.Notevenclose.Justalittlenausea.My
handsareclammy,butthat’sit.Progress.“Buttercup!”Icall,myvoicesqueaky.“Mommyneedsyou!”
Shereturnswarily,blinkingsuspiciouslyatmebeforeclamberingbackontothebed.Takingadeep
breath,squaringmyshoulders,Iopentheatlasagain.

Laceration,tendonsstillintact.Youch!Christ!Again,Isnapthebookshut.Buttercupstartlesand
blinks,herjowlsquiveringindisapprovalasshemoans.“Canwedoonemore,Buttercup?Hm,
Butterbaby?Ithinkwecan,don’tyou?”

Whodoyouthinkyou’refooling?sheseemstosay.Itendtoagree,butIopenthebookagain.

Facialavulsion.Slam!Ishovethebookawayfromme.“Okay!We’redone,Buttercup!Lessonover.”
Icurlagainsther,slidingmyarmaroundhertummyandscratchingherchest.“Goodpuppy,good
puppy,”Icroon.It’snotenough.Theimageofthewomanwhogavenewmeaningto“facialpeel”is
imprintedonmybrain.Iclosemyeyesandbreathethroughmymouth.Baby,wewereborntorun.

“Hey,Chas.”Mattstandsinmydoorway,justreturningfromwork.“Whatareyoudoing?”

“Oh,justalittle,um…reading,”Isay,openingmyeyesandsmilinggratefully.“Howareyou,Matt?
I’vehardlyseenyouthepastweekorso.”

Mattsighsandcomesin.Hesitsonthefloornexttomybed.Buttercupheavesherselfoffandgoesto
him,buttinghermassiveheadagainsthischest.

“IwascoveringforPaul,”mybrothersays.“TakingwhateverovertimeIcanget.”Hescratches
Buttercup’sneckvigorously,causinghertomoaninecstasy.

“Areyousavingupforsomething?”Iask.

Hedoesn’tlookup,justcontinuespettingourdog.“IwasthinkingImightgobacktocollege,”he
mutters.

IshiftsoIcanseehimbetter.“Wow.College.That’sgreat,Matt.Whatfor?Emergencymanagement
orsomething?”

“No,”hesays,stillnotlookingatme.“Iwasthinking…Englishlit.”

Ipausealittletoolong,apparently,becauseMattsuddenlypushesButtercupdownandlooksatme,
almostangry.“So?What’sthebigdeal?Can’tIdosomethingotherthanfirefighting?Justbecause
everyoneelseinthisfamilyisouttheresavinglives,doesitmeanthateveryonehasto?”

“Well,uh,no,Matt.Imean,Idon’t,”Ipointout.

“Yeah.Well,you’reagirl.”

“Oh,that’sright.Iforgot.”

Heglaresatme,ignoringmysarcasm,lookingmorelikeMarkthanthegentleMatthew.“Matt,”I
continue,“youcandowhateveryouwantwithyourlife.Youdon’thavetobeafirefighter.”

“Yeah,right,”hesays,daringmetodisagree.“I’mMikeO’Neill’skidandJackandLuckyandMark’s
littlebrother.ItprettymuchfeelslikeIdohavetobeafirefighter.Canyouimaginewhatthey’dsayif
IbecameanEnglishteacher?”

“Whocares?They’dbesurprised,that’sall.”Ipause.“So.AnEnglishteacher.Isthatwhatyoureally
want?”

“Idon’tknow,Chas.Maybe.Shit.IwishIhadn’tbroughtitup.”Heconcentratesonscratching

Buttercup’sleftearasshelicksherchopsandwags,turningsohecanreachherbelly,thetrashy
hound.

Obviously,I’vefeltontheoutsidemanytimesinmyfamily,butit’sabitofarevelationthatMatt
couldfeelthatway,too.“Matt,”Isaycarefully,“Ithoughtyoulikedbeingafirefighter.”

“Ido,”headmitsmorecalmly.“Just…Idon’tknow,Chas.Idon’twanttodothisforever.That’sall.
GuyslikeTrevorandDad—andMark,Godknows—it’sliketheirdestiny.Liketheywereputon
Earthtodothis.Idon’tthinkofitthatway.”

Inod,tracingthesatinedgeofmyduvetcover.“Soteachingmightbeyourdestiny?”

Heshrugs,embarrassed.“WewereatthemiddleschoolinMarch,youknow?Firepreventionandall
that.Anditwasgreat.Thekidswereaskingallthesequestions,and…well,I’vebeenthinkingabout
maybebecomingateacher.IwastalkingtoAngelaaboutbooksandstufftheotherdaywhenyouguys
wereatthefirehouse,and…”hisvoicetrailsoff“…Ikindoflovedit,”headmits.“Shit,Chas,don’t
tellanyone,okay?”

“Iwon’t.Ithinkit’sgreat,Matt,”Isayearnestly.“Youshouldn’tfeelstuckinacareerwhenyou’re
thirty-threeyearsold,buddy.Goingbacktoschoolwouldbegreat,howeveryoudoit.Part-time,full-
time,whatever.Goodforyou,Matt!”

“Really?”heasks,andIlovehimsomuchjustthen,notbecausehe’sthemostconsiderateofmy
brothers,ortheclosestinage,orsomeonewhoshareshisfood,butbecausehetrustsmetogivehim
agoodanswer.

“Really,”Isay.“ButnowI’vegottorun,buddy.Helpyourselftomybooks.”Igesturetothelong,
lowbookshelfthatcarriessevenyears’worthofhighereducation.

“Ialreadyhave.”Hegrins.

I

ARRIVEATTHE

E.R.

ANDCHECK

inwiththetriagenurse,atight-facedwomannamedGabrielleDowns.

ShesighsdramaticallywhenIpresentmyself.“JustwhatIneedtoday,”shemutters.“Fine.Stayoutof
theway.IfI’mnottotallyswampedthewayIamnow,I’llseeifIcanfindsomethingforyoutodo.”

“AreyouanyrelationtoLuciaDowns?”Iask.

Anotherdramaticsigh.“Yes.Mysister.”

Ofcourse.Melodramalikethiscanonlycomethroughgenetics.“IworkwithLuciaattheEatonFalls
Gazette.”

Gabrielleraisesaneyebrowdisdainfully.“Whereshe’sthereceptionist?”

ThereissuchcontemptdrippingfromthatwordthatIcan’thelpfeelingdefensiveofLucia,however
muchshedoesn’tdeserveit.“Luciaismuchmorethanthereceptionist,”Ireturncoolly.“Thepaper
wouldn’trunwithouther.”

“SoshetellsmeeverysingletimeItalktoher.”

Gabriellewalksaway,leavingmetowonderjustwhatI’msupposedtodo.Well,noharminlooking
around,Isuppose.Inthefirstcurtained-offarea,optimisticallynamedEvaluationRoom1,anelderly
manissleeping.Inthesecond,alittleboy,aboutseven,issnifflingonthebed,hismomsittingnextto
him,holdinghishand.There’sanearlypalpablebondbetweenthem,andanunexpectedwaveof
maternalenvyandadmirationsurgesthroughme.

“Hi,”Isay,smiling.

“Hi,”themomanswers.“Areyouthedoctor?”

“No.I’manEMT,”Isay.“Well,I’mbecominganEMT.CanIaskyoursonafewquestions?”

“Sure,”themomsays.“Hehasareallybadsorethroat.”

Andclearly,nohealthinsurance,orthey’dbeatthepediatrician’srightnow,insteadofforcedto
spendhalfthedayormorehere.“Sorrytohearthat,buddy,”Isay.“Youfeelyucky?”

Theboy’snameisNate,hetellsme,he’ssixandthree-quartersyearsoldandwantstobeafirefighter
whenhegrowsup.Perfect.Itellhimaboutmybrothersanddad,smilingashiseyesgrowwidewith
awe.“DoyouliketheYankees?”Iask.

“Ofcourse,”heanswers,swallowingwithagrimace.

“Igottogotoagamelastweek,”Itellhim.“Theywon.Who’syourfavoriteplayer?”

Wechatamiablyuntilanurse(notLucia’ssister)comesintodoastreptest,andI’mshooedoutof
thecubicle.

“Bye,pal,”Isay.Hewavesandsmiles,thengagsasthenursesticksaswabinhisthroatforaculture.

“Thanks.Youreallyhelpedpassthetime,”themomsays.

Flushedwithpride,IturnawayandbumpsquarelyintoRyanDarling,traumasurgeon.

“Uh-oh,”Isay.There’sonlyonereasonRyanwouldbehere.

“Hello,Chastity,”hesays.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”

“It’smyE.R.day,remember?”Ianswer.

“Oh,ofcourse.How’sitgoing?”Hesmiles,causinganearbyconversationtohalt.Imaginingthat
they’readmiringmyextremelyhandsomeboyfriend,Ismileback.

“It’sgoingokay,Ryan,”Isay.“Ijustgotstarted,really.Idon’tthinkIgettodoanythingmuch.What
aboutyou?Areyouhereonaconsult?”

“Justwaitingfortheambulance,”hesaysnonchalantly.“Bikeversusmotorcycle.Possiblesplenic

rupture.Stickaround.Youcanseemeinaction.WhenI’mcalleddown,theexcitementstarts.”Oneof
theorderliesoverhearsandrollshiseyes.

Iraiseaneyebrow.“Howhumbleyouare,dear,”Imurmur.Heshrugsasiftosay,Can’thelpitifit’s
true.“Anyway,”Icontinue,“I’mnotsureifI’msupposedtohangaroundwatchingtraumasurgeons.”

“Oh,ifIsayyoucan,youcan.”Hesmilesreassuringly,butIcringeinwardly,fortworeasons.One,I
don’twanttoseesomeonewho’sreallyhurt.Mypalmsarealreadyslick.Second,Ryanisbeingreally
arrogant,evenforasurgeon.

“Well?”heasks.

“Um…sure,”Imutter.

“Great!”RyanturnstoGabrielle,whoisapproachingwithaclipboard.“Nurse,wherethehellisthat
ambulance?Iwaspagedfiveminutesagoandthey’renotevenhere.Ihavebetterthingstodothan
comedownhereandwatchpaintdry.”

“Yes,Doctor.I’msorry.”Gabrielleshootsmearesentfullook.

“You’dbettergetitthroughyourheadthatasurgeondoesn’thavetimetoburn.I’mnotsomebaby
catcher,youknow.”

Gabriellebowsherheadandscurriesaway.

“Jesus,Ryan.Thatwasharsh,don’tyouthink?”IaskRyaninconsternation.

Hegrunts.“It’salltrue,Chastity.Andtherearesomepeopleyouhavetodealwithinacertainwayif
youwanttogetresults.It’sjustpartofthejob.”

AnotherdoctorapproachesRyan,describingsomethingaboutthecaseinmedicalshorthand.Ryan
givesaslightnod,butdoesn’tsayanythingelse.Severalotherstaffmembersarewheelingcartsand
bustlingaroundinanticipationforthiscase.Mykneesbuzzwithadrenalineandfear.

Justthen,thedoorstothetraumabayburstopen.Agurneyiswheeledin,thepatientsocoveredthatI
can’teventellifit’samanorawoman.BevLudevoorskistheEMTonduty.She’srunningalongside
thegurney,holdinganIVbag.

“Thirty-four-year-oldmalebicyclist,hitbymotorcyclist.Helmeted.AandOonthescene,butfading
fastenroute.Abdominalpain,rightupperquadrant.Breathsoundsequal.Roadburnonarmsand
legs,possiblebrokencollarboneandfacialfracture.OninsulinforTypeIdiabetes.”

Hervoiceisitsusualbrisk,all-businesstone.Tomyuntrainedeye,itseemslikeshe’sdoneafantastic
job.Ryandoesn’tevenlookather,juststridesovertothepatient’sside.Hepalpatestheguy’s
abdomen,causingtheguytoscreaminpain.Unfazed,Ryanmakeshispronouncement.“CTscanand
chestX-rays,stat.Typeandcross,andstartfourunits.CalltheOR.It’sthespleen,allright.”Hewhips
outhisstethoscopeandlistenstothepatient’schest.“Possiblepuncturedlung.Breathsoundsarenot
equal.CallPulmonology.”

Thenthepatientisbeingmovedagain,literallyrundownthehall,Ryanfollowingbehind.

“Hey,there,O’Neill,”Bevbooms,slappingmyshoulder.“Yourshift?”

“Hi,Bev,”Ianswer.“Thatwasgreat!Youwereamazing!”

“Well,thanks,kid.How’sitgoing?Wasthatdoctorchewingyouout?He’saprick,thatone.Stayout
ofhiswayifyouseehimagain.”

“Um…well,okay,Iwill.Buthe’smyboyfriend.”

Bev’sgrimaceiscomical.“Shit!Sorry!”

Ilaugh.“That’sokay,Bev.Iguesshe’sadifferentpersoninthehospital,becausehe’sreallysweet,
actually.”

“Hardtobelieve,O’Neill,hardtobelieve.Hey,herecomeparamedicsfromthefiredepartment.
They’llhavethemotorcyclistfromthisaccident.Isn’tthatyourbrother?”

TheEatonFallsFireDepartmentambulancepullsupoutsidethedoors.Anotherpatientisunloaded,
butnotbymybrother.ByTrevor.He’slaughing,talkingtothepatient,whoclearlyisn’tthatbadoff.

“Hey,Chas,”hesays,hiseyebrowsrisinginsurprise.Buthedoesn’tstop,justhelpsJakewheelthe
patientintoatreatmentarea.

Gabrielleappearsatmyside.“Ifyouneedtodosomething,gotakethatguy’sbloodpressure,and
thenI’llhavetodoitagaintomakesureyoudiditright.Okay?God,IhatethesestupidEMTdays.”

“Thankyou,”Isaysweetly.“Seeyou,Bev.”Igotothecubiclewherethemotorcyclistwasjusttaken.

“What’sup,Chastity?”Jakeasks,givingmehiscustomaryonce-over.

“Hey,guys.Um…well,I’mdoingashifthere.I’minanEMTclass.Hi,”Isaytothepatient.He’s
aboutsixty,fivefootnine,withagrizzledbeardandbaldhead.Hisleftarmisinasplint.“I’m
Chastity.CanIpracticeonyou?”

“Youcandowhateveryouwantonme,”themansays,grinningtorevealgold-cappedteeth.

“Alittlerespect,Jeff,”Trevorsays.“She’soneofours.”

“Cool,”theguysayswithalecherouswiggleofhiseyebrows.

“Sowhathappenedhere?”Iask.

Jefftellsmeabouthowthebicyclistveeredoutfrombehindaparkedcarandhowtheybothwentass
overhandlebars.“IthinkIbrokemyarm,”hesays,frowning.

“Oh,youbrokeyouarm,allright,”Trevorsays.“Compoundfracture,pal.”

“WhichmeansI’monebravesonofabitch,”Jeffcomments.

Ismileandtakehisbloodpressureonthegoodarm.Thewoundedarmispackedwithice,andifJeff
isalittlepale,hedoesseemquitebrave.

“CouldyoubendalittlelowersoIcanseedownyourshirt,honey?”heasks.

“IsitallrightifIsmackhim,Trev?”Iask.

“Ofcourse,”Trevoranswers.JeffsmilesandIgrinback.Jakechecksmessagesonhiscellphone.

“One-sixty-threeoverninety,”Iannounce.“Butthatmightbefromthepain.Doyouhaveahistoryof
highbloodpressure,Jeff?”

“OnlywhenI’mlookingdownyourshirt,honey,”heanswers.Wealllaugh,justasGabriellebustles
up.

“What’sgoingonhere?Chastity,flirtingwiththepatientsissomethingyoucandoonyourowntime.
IntheE.R.,wedon’thavetimeforthingslikethat!Didyouevenmanagetodowhatyouweretold?”

“Hi,Gabby,”Trevorsays.

Shemelts.“Trevor!Ididn’tseeyou!Whatareyoudoinghere?Howareyou?”

“Justbringinginapatient,”hesays.“IseeyouknowmyfriendChastity.”

Sheshootsmeasuspiciousglare,lookingsomuchlikeLuciathatit’sspooky.“Yes.Well?What’shis
BP?”

“One-sixty-threeoverninety,”Isay.

“Andhistemperature?”

“Um…Ididn’ttakethat,”Ianswer.

“Why?”

“Becauseyoudidn’ttellmeto?”Isuggest.

Shesighs.“Oh,thisissuchawasteoftime.”Shebustlestothecabinet,whipsoutoneofthoselittle
paperstripsthatpassasthermometersandsticksitunderJeff’stongue.Inoticethathedoesn’tflirt
withher.Instead,hemakesapainedfaceandlooksatmeforsympathy.ThenGabbytakeshisblood
pressure.“One-sixty-twooverninety-one,”sheannounces.Ratherbrusquely,shewhipsofftheice
packandlooksatJeff’sarm.It’sswollenandclearlydeformed,anoddlumpstickingupbetweenhis
wristandelbow.Mymouthgoesinstantlydry,mylegsaretapioca,myvisionstartsthatgrayingthing
itdoessowell.

IfIfaintnow,I’mdone.I’llfailmyclass.Iswallow,takeasmallstepbackandhitsomethingsolid.
Trevor.

“Hanginthere,Chas.”HisvoiceissolowthatIcanbarelyhearit,butthere’swarmththere,and
reassurance.Heknows.HethinksIcanmakeit.Itakeadeepbreathandstandalittlestraighter.

“Fuckme,woman!”Jeffyelps.Iblink.Gabrielleisfeelinghisarm,nottenderly,thenslapstheice
packbackon.

“Broken!”shecrows.“I’llscheduleanX-ray.”Withthat,sheleavesaconsiderablygrayerJefflying
onthebed.

“Youokay,Jeff?”Iask,feelinglessthanwellmyself.

“Yeah,”hesays.“ShowmealittlecleavageandI’llbeasgoodasnew.”

Ipathisleginstead.

“Higher,please,”hesayswithawink.

“Jake,finishthereport,okay?”Trevorasks.

“Sure,”Jakeanswersagreeably.“Seeyou,Chastity.”

AnorderlycomesinandgoestotheheadofJeff’sgurney.“How’dyouliketotakearide,my
friend?”heasks.

“Thanksforeverything,sweetheart,”Jeffcallsashe’swheeledaway.

“Itwasnothing,”Ianswertruthfully.Butitfeelsgood,anyway.

“Soyou’retakingtheEMTclass?”Trevorasks,adjustingsomethingonhisbelt.

Ilookathimstraightinthefaceforthefirsttimetoday.Hishairisrumpled,asever,andeyesare
smilingalittle.

“Yes,”Ianswerquietly.“I’mtryingtogetthebloodphobiaundercontrol.”

“How’sitgoing?”

Ishrug.“Nottoogreat.YoucanseethatIalmostpassedoutthere.”

“Alotofpeoplewouldhavedonethesame,Chas.”

“Yes,mychild,butnotanO’Neill,”Isay,heavyonthegrandiosity.

“Noteveryoneisgoodatthiskindofthing.Doesn’tmeanyou’renot…gifted…inotherways.”He
smiles.

“Thanks.Ithink.Listen,Trev,I’dappreciateitifyouandJakedidn’tsayanythingtotheboysormy
dad.”

“Sure,”hesays.“Well,youknowJake’snotthesharpestknifeinthedrawer,butI’llseewhatIcan

do.”

“Thanks,buddy.”Ipause,thenglanceouttothenurse’sstation.Gabrielleisbusilywritingsomething
onachart.“Trevor,areyouandHaydenbacktogether?”

Trev’sgazedropstothefloor.Witheverysecondthathedoesn’tanswer,myheartsinkslower.
“We’re…we’respendingtimetogether.”

“Cheesyanswer,”Icommentlightly.

Heshrugs.“Idon’tknow,Chas.Sometimes…”Heshakeshishead.“Igottarun.Goodluckhere.You
wantmetoputinagoodwordwithGabby?”

“No,that’sokay.I’llsinkorswimonmyown.”

Tomysurprise,heleansinandkissesmycheek.“You’llswim.Seeyouaround.”

Andthenhe’sgone.Anurseortechofsomekindleansouttocheckouthisass.

Therestofmydayisuneventful.Itakesixteenmorebloodpressures,eleventemperatures,applyice
toaswollenfingerandwatchasGabriellemustcutoffaweddingring.IwheelfourpeopleinforX-
raysandchatwithafewnot-too-sickpeople.Whenmyshiftisdone,IfindGabrielle.

“IguessI’mdone,Gabby,”Isay.

“Fine!So?What’skeepingyou?”

“Wouldyoumindsigningmyform?”

“Fine,fine,fine.LikeIdon’thaveamillionotherthingstodo.”Shesignsandhandsitbacktome.

“DoesthismeanIpass?”Iask.

“Yes!Youpassed.Okay?Youdidn’tscrewupthatbadly,socongratulations.Nowdoyoumind?I
haveworktodo.”

“Thankyou,”Isay,myheartlifting.Ipassed!

Istopinthelobbyanduseanin-housephonetocallthesurgicalfloor,wantingtosharemynewswith
someone.“I’msorry,Dr.Darlingisinsurgery,”saysthepersonwhoanswers.

“Noproblem,”Isay.

“Areyouapatientorafamilymember?”sheasks.

“Nope,”Ianswer.“I’mhisgirlfriend.”

“Really?”shesays.“Iwasn’tawarethathehadone.Well,goodlucktoyou,hon.”Andshehangsup.

CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX

“W

HERE’S

L

UCIA

?”A

NGELAASKS

.“Ididn’tthinkcyborgsmissedwork.”

“Idonotknow,MissDavies,butIdidgetyouapresent.”I’vebecomesofondofAngela…she’s
quietlyfunny,consistentlygoodatherjob,andalwaysseemsopentodoingsomethingafterwork.
Justlastweekend,whenRyanhadtocancelduetoanemergencysurgery(branchversusbowel),she
cameoverandwewatchedReturnoftheKing,bothofuscommentingonthesexistslantofthemovie
asweogledthemen.Now,Ireachinmydeskandhandherabumpersticker.

“‘WhatWouldAragornDo?’Iloveit!”shecries.“Wheredoyoufindthese?”

“ShespendswaytoomuchtimeongeeksitesontheInternet,rightChas?”Petefromadvertisingsays,
takingabiteofabagel.

“That’sright,Pete.Hey,doyouknowwhereLuciais?Arewehavingthestaffmeetingwithouther?”

“Thatwouldbeafirst,”Petecomments,turningonhiscomputer.

“Chastity?Ineedtoseeyou,please,”Penelopecalls,stickingherheadoutofheroffice.

Oh,crap.Thiscan’tbegood.Alanisalreadyseated,andboththeirfacesaregrave.Myheartbucks—
hassomeonebrokenthroughmyfirewalls?MorepornontheWebsite?AmIabouttobefired?

“Hi,”Isaytentatively.

“Haveaseat,Chastity,”Penelopesays.IglanceatAlan,whostaresatthefloor.

“What’sgoingon?”Iask,myheartthuddingwithdread.

“Lookatthis,”Pensays,shovingapieceofpaperatme.

It’sthepoliceblotter,thereportofcrimescommittedoverthepastweek.TheEatonFallsGazette
runsitregularly;it’spublicinformation,afterall,andaguiltypleasureforpeopletocheckoutthe
misadventuresoftheirfellowcitizens.Iscanit,butnothingleapsout.I’mrelieved.Ithoughtmaybe
therewassomethingaboutanO’Neillinthere.

“Fourthonedown,”Alanmutters.

Ilook.TheodoreEverly,42,solicitationofaprostitute.“Who’sTheodore—oh.Oh,crap.”

“TeddyBear,”Alanconfirms.

“Oh,crap,”Irepeat.

“Amaleprostitute,”Penelopewhispers.

Myheartsinks.“PoorLucia.Nowondershe’snotin.”

“Thequestionis,shouldwerunit?”PenelopeasksbothAlanandme.“Itispublicrecord.We’ve
nevereditedthepoliceblotterbefore,but…”

“It’sreallyyourcall,Alan,”Isay,gratefullypassingthebuck.“Crap.Idon’tknow.”

“Great,”Alansays.Hemakesafaceatme,flashingthetooth,butI’vegrownusedtoitanditbarely
freaksmeoutanymore.

Atthatmoment,thedooropens,andLuciasticksherheadin,herfaceitsusualfuneralmaskof
makeup.Hereyesarered.“Staffmeetinginten,”sheannounces.

“Lucia!Hi!Howareyou?”Penelopestandsup.“Comein!Sitdown!Um,uh,wouldyoulikecoffee?”

Luciaenters,andwithfourofusinPen’scrampedoffice,I’mcloseenoughtogetacontacthighoff
Lucia’shairsprayandperfume.Igetoutofmychairandofferittoher.“Haveaseat,Lucia,”Isay.
Shenarrowshereyesatmeandremainsstanding.PenelopeandAlanexchangeanuneasyglance.
Alanbegins.

“Um,Lucia,areyouawarethat…see,thismorning’spoliceblot—”

“AmIawarethatmyfiancéwasarrestedforbuyingsexfromaman?Yes,Alan,I’maware.”

Okay,well,thatsettlesthequestionofifsheknew.“Wewerejustdiscussingwhetherornotto—”Pen
starts.

“Runit.Idon’tcare.It’snotmyproblem,isit?”

“Lucia,”Penelopesaysgently,“we’reallreallysorryaboutthis.”

“Saveit,okay?”Luciasnaps.“Arewehavingastaffmeetingornot?”

“Um,yes,sure,wewill.Sure.Okay.”Penelopetipsherheadtooneside.“Lu,areyousureyoudon’t
wanttotakethedayofforanything?”

“Why?SoIcansellmyweddingdressoneBay?”

Pentakesadeepbreath.“Okay.Staffmeetinginten.”

Luciaturnsahatefulglareonme.“Chastity,canIseeyouprivately?”

“Um,sure,”Isay.

“Usemyoffice,”Pensays,leapingforthedoor.“Alan,let’sdiscussthestoryonthegarbagestrike,
okay?”

Theyabandonmewithbreathtakingspeed.“I’msorryforyour…situation,Lucia,”Isaytentatively.

“Youknew,didn’tyou?”shehisses.“YouknewTeddyBearwasgay.”

Myfacegrowshot.“Well,youknow,I—Idon’treallyknowTeddyBear,so—”

“Hesaidyousawhim!Whenhewaswithamanonenight.Yourodeyourbikerightpastthem!”

Irunahandthroughmyhair.“Yeah.Idid.”

“Couldyoutell?Thathewas,youknow…gay?”

Iwince.“Well…I…itlookedkindof…romantic.”

“Andyoudidn’tsayanything?Ican’tbelievethat,Chastity!”

“Look,Lucia,”IsayinwhatIhopeisacalmingvoice.“Isuspected.Thatwasall.Idon’treallyknow
youthatwell.”

“Soyoujustletmegoonbeingengagedtoafag.”Shejamsherfistsintoherhips,shakingwithrage.

“It’salwaysbeenmyfeelingthatitwasn’tmyplaceto—”Iattempt.

“No,Chastity!You’vealwayshatedme!BecauseIwasengaged!Andyouneverwere,okay?AndI
knoweverythingaboutthispaper!Andyou’re,like,somehulkingAmazonfromColumbiawho
thoughtyoukneweverything,andyoumademelooklikeafuckingidiot!”

“Okay,shutup,Lucia!”Isnapback.“I’msorrythishappenedtoyou,butifyoudidn’tknowTeddy
Bearwasgay,that’sbecauseyoudidn’twantto.Everysinglepersonatthispaperknew.Youwantedto
beblindandyouwere.Thishasnothingtodowithme.”

Herfacegoeswhite.“Whatdoyoumean,everyoneknew?”shewhispers,horrified.Then,without
waitingforananswer,sheyanksopenPenelope’sdoor.“DideveryonehereknowthatTeddyBear
wasgay?”sheshrieks.

There’sadreadfulsilence.Angela,Penelope,Carl,Alan,Pete,Danielleinlayout,Sukithereporter…
Theyallstandthere,guiltandknowledgeandsympathywrittenclearlyontheirfaces.

BlotchesofredappearonLucia’spastyface.“Iquit.”

Andwiththat,Luciastormsoutoftheoffice,slammingthedoorbehindher.

Weslinkbacktoourdesks.“Staffmeetingisrescheduled,”Penelopecallsbeforeclosingherselfin
heroffice.AsIclicknumblythroughmye-mails,Angelaslipsovertome.“Howareyoudoing,
Chastity?”

“Yick,”Ireply.

“Iknow.”Shesmilessympathetically.“Sowhywasshemadatyou,inparticular?”

“IsawTeddyBearwithaman,andIdidn’ttellher,”Iconfess.

“Iwouldn’thave,either.”Shesmileskindly.

“Hey,Angela,”Isayabruptly.“Trevortoldmeyouguysbrokeup.”

Sheflushes.“Yeah.Well,weneverexactlygottogether.He’ssosweetandallthat,butIdon’tthinkhe
waseverinterestedinme,tobehonest.Nothingreallythere,ifyouknowwhatImean.”

Therestofthedaypassesslowly.EveryoneisthinkingaboutLucia,yetnoonewantstotalkaboutit.
Justbeforeit’stimetogo,Penelopecallsmeintoherofficeagain.

“Whatdoyouknowaboutperipheralvasculardisease?”sheasks,stretchingoutherhandsinfrontof
her.

“Verylittle,”Isay.

“Domyhandslookweirdtoyou?”

“Maybealittlemoisturizer,Pen.Otherwise,theylookfine.”

“Okay,okay,I’mahypochondriac.Listen,alittlegoodnews.RememberthatpieceyoudidonJames
FennimoreCooper?”

OfcourseIremember.ItwastheoneIslappedtogetherthenightIkneedRyanatself-defenseclass.I
pullaface.“Yes,Ido.Sorryagain.”

Penlaughs.“Listentothis.”Shepullsoutapieceofpaper.“DearMs.Constanopolous,wearepleased
toinformyouthatChastityO’Neill’sarticle‘TheCooperEffect—TheInfluenceofAmerica’sFirst
NovelistonToday’sFiction’haswonfirstprize,blahblahblah,yaddayadda.”Penelopegrins.
“Ceremony.Dinner.Fivethousanddollars.Foryou,Chastity.”

Mymouthdropsopen.“Fivegrand?”

“Yes.Congratulations!”

“Fivegrand?Holycrap!Thismeansanewfurnace!”Itaketheprofferedletterandreaditmyself,
feelingawarmflushofpleasuretravelupmyneck.“Didyouenterthis,Penelope?”Iask.

“Nope.Apparently,thisfoundationscansforarticleswrittenongreatAmericans,andtheylovedwhat
youwrote.Ihadnoidea.”Shebeamslikeaproudparent.“Nowdon’tgetanyideasaboutgoingto
workfortheTimes,younglady,”shewarns.

“Iwon’t,”Isay,smiling.

“Seriously,Chastity.Areyouhappyhere?”

Ilookupfromtheletter.“Yes!Absolutely.”

“Ifyouneedroomtostretch,we’llgiveyouacolumn,shiftresponsibilitiesaround,whateveryou
want.Justsaytheword,okay?”

“Thankyou,Penelope,”Isay.“Wow.I’llkeepthatinmind.”

“CanIbuyyouacelebratorydrink?”

Mysmiledrops.“Maybeanothertime.WithLuciaandall,Ijustdon’tfeelrightaboutit.”

Shenods.“Sure.Goodform.Okay,I’mleaving.Seeyoutomorrow.Congratulationsagain.”

I’mtemptedtocallmybrothersandparentsandtellthemmynews,butthatdoesn’tfeelright,either.I
callRyan’scell,butitclicksimmediatelyovertovoicemail.Ihangupwithoutleavingamessage.
Feelingalittledeflated,Ileavethepaperandheadforhome.

“Guesswhat,Buttercup?”Itellmydogasshepinsmeagainstthewall.“Mommywonanaward.”She
slobbersinadmiration,andIkissherhead.“Thankyou.”

IheatupaStouffer ’spizza,readingthenutritionpanelontheside.Yikes.Angelarecentlyofferedto
teachmetocook—she’sdoinganadult-edclassoneasyFrenchclassics.Ryanmentionedlastweek
thathewantedtohavesomepeopleoverfordinner,anddidIthinkIcouldcookforeightorten?
WhenIwasdonelaughing,hegrudginglysaidhe’dcallacaterer.I’msurehe’dapproveofme
learningtowhipupalittlecoqauvinandcrèmebrûlée.

IchecktheEatonFallsGazetteWebsitefornaughtypicturesand,findingnone,heaveasighofrelief.
ThenIGoogleanaddress,cliptheleashonButtercupandheadforthesouthendoftown.

Lucia’shouseisevensmallerthanmine,asnuglittleplaceonatree-linedstreet.There’sonlyLucia’s
carinthedriveway,andIdon’thearanynoisecomingfromtheopenwindows.Climbingthefront
steps,Iknockandwait,thenknockagain.Buttercupflopsdown,exhausted.Finally,Ihearthesound
offootsteps.There’sapause.

“Goaway,Chastity,”comesLucia’svoice.

“Nah,”Ireply.“Comeon.Openup.”

“No.Justgoaway.”

“I’mperfectlycapableofkickinginthisdoor,youknow,”Isay.“OrImightjustleanonthebuzzer
anddriveyouinsane.”

“I’llcallthepolice,”shesays.

“Really?”Iask.

Thedooropens.“Probablynot,”sheadmits.Herfaceisdull,herhairflat.Withoutmakeup,shelooks
different…softeranddefinitelyyounger.Irememberthatwe’reaboutthesameage,thoughshe
alwaysstrikesmeasolder.She’swearingpinksilkypajamas,andtheTVisonMuteinthe
background.Whereareherfriends,parents,sisters,brothers,dog,whatever?Whereisthatbitchy
sisterofhersfromtheE.R.?Whyissheherealoneontheworstnightofherlife?

“I’msosorry,”Isay,andwithoutthinking,Iputmyarmsaroundherandkisshercheek.“Whata
shitty,shittythingtohavetodealwith.”

Luciaburstsintotears.

“It’sokay,hon,”Isay.“It’llbeokay.”

“ThatdogistheugliestthingI’veeverseen.”Shesobs.

“Shh,”Imurmur.“You’llhurtherfeelings.Canshecomein?”

“Sure.”

Fifteenminuteslater,Buttercupisbelly-upinfrontofLucia’sfireplace,jowlssaggingtothefloor,
earsspreadout,pawsfrozenintheair.Shelookslikeroadkill.Luherselfdoesn’tlookmuchbetter,
butIpouredheraglassofwineandfoundatissuebox(inoneofthoselittlecrochetedtissue-box-
holderthingies).

“Haveyoutalkedtohim?”Iask.

“Oh,ofcourse.”Shesniffles.“Hesayshelovesmebuthecan’thelpthewayheis.”Herchesthitches
asshestiflesthetears.

“Haveyoutoldyourfamily?”

Shenods.“Theyallsuspected.Justlikeyou.”

Ibitemyknuckle.Iwonderifhersisterormotherorwhomeverhadevertakenherasideandasked
aboutTeddyBear.IknowIwouldhave,hadshebeeninmyfamily.“IwishI’dsaidsomething,Lu.I
justfigureditwasn’tmyplace.”

Sheblowshernose,thendrainsherwine.“Iprobablywouldhavetakenyourheadoff,”sheadmits.
Shestaressightlesslyinfrontofher.“Ican’tbelieveIwassodumb.”Hervoicecracks.

“Oh,Lu,”Isay,leaningovertopatherhand.“We’reallblindwhenitcomestothepeoplewelove.”

“Really?”shesnaps.“Doesyourdoctorhaveaboyfriendontheside?”

“NotthatIknowof,”Ianswer.“Butyouknowhowitis.Weallshapepeopleinourminds,onewayor
another.”Lucianods.“I’msureI’mshapingRyantobe…well.Let’snottalkaboutme.Thisisyour
specialnight.”

Shesnorts,smilingreluctantly.“Chastity—”Shebreaksoff,bitingheracrylictalonofafingernail.

“Yeah?”

Shelooksatherlap.“TeddyBearwastheonewhoputthosepicturesontheWebsite,”shemumbles.

Mymouthfallsopen.

“AndhebrokeyourAragorndoll,too.”

“Why?”

“Ididn’tknowaboutit!”Luciasnapsdefensively.“Hejusttoldmetoday.Hesaiditwasbecausehe
knewIhatedyou—”

“Gosh,thanks.”

“—andhewantedtomakeyoulookbadandmaybegetfiredsoIcouldgetyourjob.Becausehe
thoughtIdeservedit.”Sheswallowsrepeatedly,hereyesfullonceagain.

Isigh.“Wow.”

“Areyougoingtotell?”sheasks,chewinghernailyetagain.

“Doyouwantmeto?”Isay.

“Ithinkhe’sprobablysufferingenough,”shewhispers,thetearsspillingdownhercheeks.

“Okay,then.Iwon’tsayanything.It’sgoodtoknowIdon’thaveastalker.”

“I’msorry,”shewhispers.

“It’snotyourfault,”Isay,handingheranothertissue.

“Youknowwhat,Chastity?”Luciasays,blowinghernoseloudly.“Ithoughtyouweresuchabitch,
butyou’rereallynotthatbad.”

Ican’thelplaughing.“Thanks,Lu.Rightbackatyou.”

CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN

I

LEANMYHEADAGAINST

thecoolwindowofRyan’sMercedestoeaseitsthrobbing.We’reheaded

backtohisplace.It’srainingthatsoothingJunerainthatthrumsonthecarroofandagainstthe
windows.Iwishwecoulddriveallnight.

“Ithoughtthatwentwell,”Ryansays,turningintohisreservedparkingplace.

“Didyou?”Iask,gettingoutofthecarbeforehecanopenthedoorforme.“Ithoughtitwastorture.”

We’vejusthaddinnerwithmymotherandHarry.I’mstartingtoworryaboutthat.

Ormaybenot.MaybeMomjustwantsmetoruntoDad.Hey,Dad.Momseemsreallyfondofthat
Harry…bettergetoffyourassanddosomething.MaybeIshould.IwonderhowfarMomisgoingto
takethisMexicanstandoff.Surelynotmuchlonger,becauseIcan’timagineherlettingHarrythink
there’sactualpotentialthere.Plus—

“Whatareyoudoingthisweekend?”Ryanasks,takingouthiskeysandunlockingthedoor.

“Hm?Oh,sorry.It’smypracticalexam.IfIpassit,I’mfreeandclearandanEMT.”

“Isee.Andit’sanall-daytest?”heasks.

“Yes.Saturday.”Iforceasmile.It’snothisfaultI’mfeelingglum.It’snotjustmymomandHarry…
it’sthestupidEMTthing.

Iacedmywrittentest…multiplechoice,comeon.Butthepracticalisthehardpart,consistingofeight
orsostations,eachonepresentingadifferentaspectofemergencycare—cardiacarrest,poisoning,
immobilization,bleedingcontrol,shock.Volunteerswillbefakingavarietyofinjuries,frombroken
legstochildbirth.Chancesare,I’llpass.Fakebloodhasnotyetfreakedmeout,andI’magood
student.Butwhatthen?Iwonder.WillIactuallybeabletotakethisknowledgeandtranslateitto
somehowbeinghelpful?

Lastweek,theEatonFallsGazettedidastoryaboutakidwhowasstungbyabeeatschool.Thekid
hadneverhadanallergicreactionbefore,andwhenhefeltodd,hewenttothebathroom,wherehe
collapsed,allalone.Bysomemiracle,anotherkidcameuponhim.Thissecondboyhadapeanut
allergy.Hesawthefirstboy’sbluishface,andwithoutwaitingfordirection,heyankedouthisEpi-
Penandstuckitintheotherkid’sthigh,callingforhelpwhilehedidit.Fiveminuteslater,thebee-
stungboywassittingup,dazedandalive.Theheroiclittleboywasmodest.“It’sluckyIhaveapeanut
allergy,”hetoldthecops.“Goodthing,huh?”

ThenCNNcarriedthestoryoftheladywholiftedthetreebranchoffherhusband.Thatbranch
weighedalmosteighthundredpounds.“Icouldn’tjustlethimliethere,”she’dsaid.“Thoughitwas
tempting.”

Ryantakesmyraincoat—themannersofaprince,thisguy—andgoesintothekitchen.Ihearthe
squeakofthecorkandthegluggingofwineashepours.

“So,honestly,Chastity,”hesays,cominginandsittingnexttomeonthecouch.Hehandsmeaglass
ofwine.“Whyareyoutakingthisclass?Youdon’twanttobeanEMT,doyou?”

Itakeasipofmywine.“Idon’tknow.IguessI’mhopingto…Idon’tknow.Jointheranksofmy
heroicbrothers.LiveuptotheO’Neilllegacy.”

“AndwhatistheO’Neilllegacy?”

Iturndisbelievingeyesonhim.Hegazesbackinnocently,waiting.“Well,Ryan,you’vebeentomy
house.You’vebeentomymother ’shouse.Didn’tyouseeallthosenewspaperarticlesinthehall?All
thosepicturesofmyvariousbrotherswithvariousmayorsandvictimsandallthat?Jackhasa
CongressionalMedalofHonor!Marksavedakitty-cat!Trevorpulledalittlegirlfromtheriver!My
fatheralonehas—”

“Okay,okay,sorry.Calmdown.There’snoneedtoyell.”

IchugRyan’sexpensivepinotwhatever.“I’mcalm,Ryan.I’mjustsurprisedyouhadn’tnoticed.”

“ObviouslyIknewtheyworkinemergencyservices,”hesays,hisvoicetakingonthatIvyLeague
drawl.“Iwasn’tawarethattheyhadalegacy.”Hepauses.“JackhastheMedalofHonor?”

“Yes!WhichItoldyouonourseconddate.HowcanyouforgettheMedalofHonor?There’sonly,
like,thirty-fivehundredofthemevergiven!”Ryancontinuestolookblank.“Thestrandedunit?
Jack’shelicopter?Theguywiththeshatteredleg?Enemyfire?Afghanistan?CarryingaMarinefora
mileandahalf?Soundfamiliar?”

“Yes,nowthatyoumentionit.”Hetakesawine-snobbysipofhisdrink,theneyeballsmeagain.“So
youfeelthatbecominganEMTwillsomehowelevateyoutoherostatus?”

Mymouthdropsopen.“Harsh,Ryan!”

“Ihatetobetheonetopointitouttoyou,butanEMTisbarelyabliponthescreeninthemedical
world.”Hisvoicedripscontempt.

JustbeforeI’mabouttoslughim,itclicks.“Areyoutryingtostartafight?”Iask.

Heblinks.“Um…well,yes,”hemurmurs.

“Thatwasreallymean,Ryan.”

“Sorry.It’sjust…youknow.Fighting’skindof…stimulating.”Hegrins.

Isigh.“Ryan,maybewe…well,maybeitwouldbeniceifthingscouldbejustas…passionate?…
withoutusfighting.”

Hedoesn’tanswerforaminute.“Right.”

HesoundssodejectedthatIclosemyeyes.“But,sure,itisfun.”

“Oh,it’sgreat,”heagreesinstantly.“Anditdoescleartheair.”Hereachesoutandstrokesmy
earlobe.“I’msorry,Chastity.Didn’tmeantooffendyou.”

ThoughIwonderhowthatcommentcouldbeinterpretedasanythingbutoffensive,Ipathislegand
forgivehim.Ahalfanhourlater,we’reinbed,cuddledtogetheraftertwentyminutesofprettygood
sex.Backtomeatloaf.Toobad.

“Iloveyou,”Ryanmutters,hisvoiceslowwithsleep.

Ipause.“Sleeptight,”Iwhisper.

WhenI’msurethatRyanisfullyasleep,Islipoutofbed,grabhisrobeandgointothelivingroom.
Inmypurse,Ihaveanemergencysixpack…ofOreos,thatis,thekindthatmomsputintheirkids’
lunchboxes.Sittingontheleathercouch,therainstreamingdowntheslidingglassdoors,Iripopen
thepackageandinhaleappreciatively—isthereanythingthatsmellsbetterthanfreshOreos?Ipop
oneinmymouthandchewandstareandthink.

Ryanhasalotofgoodqualities.Truthfully,I’veneverhadarelationshipquitelikeours—whenthe
guycallswhenhesayshewill,wherewehavedinnersandmeeteachother ’sfamilies,talkalmost
everynight.FellowshipoftheRingisoneofhisfavoritemovies.Webothliketorun.Honestly,I
enjoymyselfwithRyan.Imightevenlovehim.

JustnotthewayIwantto.He’snottheloveofmylife.

OnlyoncedidIfeelthecertaintythatIwaswithTheOne.Ihaven’tletmyselfthinkaboutthatina
longtime,notfully,becauseafterall,it’spointlesstorehashaseventy-two-hourloveaffair.Buthere
inthedark,therainbeatingagainsttheroof,Ican’tdodgethefactthatI’veneverlovedanyonethe
wayIlovedTrevor.

WhenTrevorandIkissed,Ifelthotandshakyandweakandstrongatthesametime.Whenhetouched
me,therewasnotjustatingle,therewasajolt.Therewasnomeatloaf,nosir.Gourmetalltheway.

Forthatshorttime,itfeltlikemyhearthadlockedintotheplacewhereitwasmeanttobe.Therewas
thatpulseofperfection,twopiecesfusedtogethersoitseemedthattherewasonlyone.Myhearthad
fitwithTrevor ’slikethat.

Ithinkbacktoourbreakupunderthechestnuttree.IthinkofthesummerhebroughtPerfectHayden
home.Theyearsthathavepassedwithouthimeverindicatinganythingbutfraternalaffectionforme.
Somuchforheartsfitting.

CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT

T

WODAYSLATER

,I

PASS

mypracticalandbecomealicensedemergencymedicaltechnician.Tomy

surprise,Jackwasoneoftheinstructorsatthetest,andwordquicklyspreadthroughouttherealmthat
Chastityhadacedhertest.Nowthereisgreatrejoicingintheland,oratleastinEmo’s.

“ToLouGehrig,prideoftheYankees,”Dadsays,honoringthetraditionoftoastingSt.Loubefore
anyoneelse.“Andtomydaughter,Chastity.Goodjob,Porkchop.”

“TothePorkchop,”mybrothersecho.

“Thanks,Daddy.Thanks,everyone.”Igrin.Thislittleimpromptupartyisquiteathrill.Wetakeup
twotablesandourusualbooth.Dad’splatoonandallmybrothersarehere,aswellasElainaandthe
Starahs.AndTrevor,whoactuallywassupposedtoworkbutarrangedaswapsohecouldbehere.He
catchesmelookingathimandsmiles.Ismileback,then,feelingguilty,glancetowardthedoortosee
ifRyanhasappeared.Unfortunately,oneofhispatientshadsomepostoperativecomplications,and
he’srunninglate.

Dad,Mark,LuckyandMattwanderofftoshootsomepool.Elainaisonhercellphone,talkingtothe
babysitter.JakeandSantogotowatchtheMetsgame.Soon,justJack,Sarah,TrevorandIaresitting
intheGehrigbooth.

“So,Chas,what’snext?Paramedicschool?”Jackasks,gazingathiswife.Hereachesoutandstrokes
hercheek.Sarahcloseshereyeslikeacat,practicallypurring.ThetwoyearsJackspentin
Afghanistanmadethemevenmoreinlove,andIsmile,touchedthatJackisstillsosmittenbyhis
wife.

“Noparamedicschool,Jack,”Ianswer.“Idon’treallyknowwhatI’mgoingtodowiththis.I’mstill
notreallyanatural.Passingthetestwaskindofeasy,butintherealworld…”Myvoicetrailsoff.

“You’dbegreat,”Trevorreassuresme.

“You’realoyalman,TrevorMeade,”Itellhim.Hegrins.“So,Sarah,”Icontinue,“howareyouthese
days?”

“Notbad,considering,”sheanswers.“Jack,doyouwanttotellher?”

Jackstraightensupandsmiles.“We’reexpectinganotherbaby.”

“Aw!Ithoughtso!”Iexclaim,leaningovertokissSarahandpunchingJackontheshoulder.
“Congratulations,guys!That’sfantastic.Wow!Fivekids!Holycrap!”

Somewhereinmygenuinehappinessformyoldestbrotherandhislovelywifeis,I’lladmit,ahealthy
doseofenvy.Theymetincollege,married,producedatribeofgorgeouschildrenandJackstill
looksatherwithbedroomeyes.

“Ifanyonecanhandleit,youguyscan,”Trevorsays,raisinghisbeerglasstothehappycouple.

“Thanks,bud,”Jacksays.“Hey,how’sHayden?Youguysbacktogether?”

“Jack!Noneofyourbusiness,”Sarahsays.“Excuseme,guys,Ihavetopee.Everytenminutes,it
seems.”

IwaitforTrevortoanswer.Hedoesn’t.

“Whataboutyou,Chas?”Jackasks.“Youseriouswithwhat’s-his-name?”

“Ryan,”Trevorsupplies.

Iglanceathim.“Yeah.Sure.Imethisfamily,didItellyou?”

“Andhowwasthat?”Jackasks.

“Freakishandbizarre,”Ianswer.

Mybrotherlaughs.“Well,family’simportant.Ifyouhatethein-laws,beware,kiddo.”Hestandsup.
“They’replayingoursong,”hesays.“Gottagodancewiththewife.”Herufflesmyhairandgoesto
interceptSarahonherwaybackfromtheloo.Thestrainsof“Brown-EyedGirl”floatfromthe
jukebox.Sobleepingsweet.

WhichleavesTrevorandme,sittingacrossfromeachotherunderthesmilingeyesanddimplesofSt.
Lou.

“So,”Isay.“Hayden.”

Henods.

“Spill,Trevor,”Iorder.

Hegrins.“Yes,sir.”Thenhestalls,takingasipofGuinness.“We’re…we’retryingtoseeifthings
mightworkoutthistime.”

Whichcouldmeananything.“Ineverreallyheardwhyyoubrokeupinthefirstplace,Trev,”Inudge.

Helooksatme,hiseyessodarkandseriousthatIfeelthatjoltrightthroughmymiddle.Ihaveto
physicallystopmyselffromreachingouttotouchhim.There’saflickerofsomethinginhiseyes,but
hetakesanothersipofhisbeerandlooksup.“Speakingofrelationships,here’syourguy.”

“Hello,”Ryansays,slidinginnexttome.HeshakesTrevor ’shand.“Goodtoseeyou,Trevor.”He
turnstome,slidinghisarmaroundmyshoulders.“Well?”

“Ipassed,”Ismile.

Hesmilesback.“Ofcourseyoudid.Congratulations,hon.”Hekissesmycheekandtakessomething
outofhispocketandputsitonthetableinfrontofme.It’saslim,rectangularblackvelvetbox.Istare
atit,vaguelyuneasy,andglanceatTrevor,whosmilesandgivesaquicknod.

“Wow!Thisis,um,very…unexpected,”Ibabble.

“Openit,”Ryansays.

Ido.Insidetheboxisanabsolutelylovely(thatistosay,expensive)pearl-and-rubybracelet.“Holy
crap,”Ibreathe.“Imean,wow.Thisis…oh,wow.”Filigreegoldtwinesthegemstogetherina
delicatepattern.It’stheprettiestpieceofjewelryimaginable,butforsomereason,there’salumpin
mythroat,asadlump.

“Thankyou,”Imanageinastrangledwhisper.“It’sbeautiful.”

“Notasbeautifulasyou,”Ryansays.Hetakesitoutoftheboxandfastensitaroundmywrist,andas
he’sdoingso,ItellmyselfnottolookupatTrevor.ButIdo.Ryanfiddleswiththeclasp,andIlookat
Trevorandseethathissmileisgoneandthere’saodd,blanklookonhisface.Butthenhisleft
eyebrowbouncesupandhelooksimpishandadorableagain.

“Hi,all,”comesavoice.Abodyfollows.PerfectHaydenslidesintotheboothnexttoTrevorandslips
herarmunderhis.“Hello.I’mHaydenSimms.”ShesmilesatRyan.

“RyanDarling,”hemurmurs,reachingouttoshakeherhand.

“Hi,Hayden,”Imutter.

“Whataprettybracelet!”Shecocksherhead,thenleanshercheekonTrevor ’sshoulder.Trevor
doesn’texactlyencourageher,buthesureasheckdoesn’tinchaway,either.

“Yeah,verypretty,”hesays.“Nicelydone,Ryan.”HelooksatHayden.“Well.Wanttogetadrink,
Hayden?We’llseeyouguyslater.”Withthat,theyslipoutoftheboothandheadforthebar.Good.I
stilldon’tlikeher,nomatterhowsunshinycutesheis.

“Nicetomeetyou,Hayden,”Ryansaysbeforeturningtome.“Youreallylikeit,Chastity?”

“It’ssobeautiful.Ryan.Thankyou.Thatwasreallysweetofyou.”

Hesmiles.“Isyourfatherhere?I’dliketomeethim.”

“Sure!Yes!He’soverthere,withtheboys.Comeon,I’llintroduceyou.”Wegooverthepooltable.
“Dad,thisisRyanDarling.Ryan,myfather,CaptainMikeO’NeilloftheEatonFallsFire
Department.”

“Verynicetomeetyou,sir,”Ryansays,shakinghands.“Yourdaughter ’stoldmealotaboutyou.”

Dadslingshisarmaroundmyshoulders.“AbouttimeImetyou,youngman.”Ielbowhimsharplyin
theribs.“Nicetomeetyou,too.So.Areyourintentionshonorable?”

Mybrothersroarwithlaughter.Ryansmilestoo,butsays,“Yes,sir,theyare.”

“Let’ssitdown,then,andhavealittletalk.”DadputshishandonRyan’sshoulderandsteershimback
totheGehrigboothwejustvacated.

“Theyneedtoworkoutyourdowry,Chas,”Markcomments.“Comeon,takeDad’splace.”

Ioblige,sinkingthesixballwithanicebitofbackspin.“Howarethingswithyou,Mark?”Iask
quietly.

“Better,”hesays.“HasElainasaidanythingtoyou?”Heglancesovertohiswife,whoislaughing
withTaraatthebar,justafewfeetdownfromTrevorandPerfectHayden.

“Alittle,”Iadmit.“Fourballinthecorner,brotherso’mine.”

“I’mmovingbackin,”Markmurmurs.

“Oh,Mark!That’sgreat,buddy!”Igivehimahug.

“AreweplayingpoolorrelivingDr.Phil?”Luckyasks.

“Shutup,Lucky,”Isay.“Twoball,sidepocket,moveyourhand,Matt.”Click,clack,thunk.Theball
sinksasIpredicted.

“Well,youknow,it’llbeniceforDylan.”Marksmilesandgivesasheepishnod.“Thanks.”

“You’rewelcome,”Isay.

“Canyouguyshurryupandwin?”Luckyasks.“Mywifeisgivingmethelook.”

Isinkthefourteen,butmissontheten.“Yourturn,”Isay.Apealoflaughtercomesfromthegeneral
directionofPerfectHayden,butIdon’tlookover.

Luckylinesuphisshotandmisses,andMattbemoansthefactthathegottheworstpoolplayerofour
clanashispartner.DadandRyanaretalking,laughingalittle.Nice.Myboyfriendandmydadare
gettingalonggreat.Good.Great,infact.

Marksinkstheeightball.“Payup,suckers,”heordersMattandLucky,whohandovertheirmoney.

ThenLuckylooksupandgrimaces.“Uh-oh,guys.”

DadissittinglikeaLabradorretrieverwho’sscentedapheasant.Ryanglancesinthedirectionof
Dad’sgaze,asdoweall.

Uh-ohisright.ThroughtheFrenchdoorsthatdivideEmo’sbarfromtherestaurant,wecanseeMom
andHarryjusttakingtheirseats.Andmyfather ’sfaceislikethunder.Myheartstartstothudsicklyin
mythroat.

JackgoesovertoDadandputsahandonhisarm.“Thisisgettingoutofhand,”myfatherbarks.
Morethanafewpeoplequietdown.MarkandLuckywalkcautiouslyovertojoinJack.Iknowthey
won’tletDadstartafight,buttheydon’twanttoembarrasshim,either.

“Backoff,boys,”myfathermutters.HestridesovertotheFrenchdoorsandstandsthere,staringat
hiswifeandherboyfriend.

“What’sthisabout?”Ryanasks,comingtomyside.Heputshisarmaroundmeandkissesmyneck.

“Notnow,Ryan,”Isay,steppingaway.“Myparents—”

MomisstaringbackatDad,notdefiantly,notwithangerorarrogance.Shejustlooksathimthrough
thedoors.Harryisstudyingthewinelist,looksupandseesDad,aswell.Hehesitates,sayssomething
tomymom,andshelooksaway.

Atthatmoment,myfatherseemstoswellinrage.Hestartsforward,butJackjerkshimback.Dad
wheelsonhisoldestson,hisfacefurious.

“Getyourhandsoffme,John,”hesnarls,actuallyshovingJack.

Alightningsheetofpanicflashesthroughme.Oh,God,ifDadmakesascene,it’llbeawful.

ThenTrevoristhere,TrevwhohasalwayslookeduptoDad,andinrecentmonthshaslookedafter
him,aswell.HestepsbetweenJackandmyfather,sayssomethinginalowvoice.Dad’sjawis
clenchedandhiseyescutbackandforthbetweenJackandTrev.Thenhelooksdown,andthemoment
isover.Trevornods,squeezesDad’sshoulder,andDadwalksbacktowardourbooth.

“Dad?”Isay,myvoicealittleshaky.

“Notnow,Chastity,”heanswers,notlookingatme.

“Chastity,wouldyoulikeadrink?”Ryanasks.Ashisbackwastotheaction,hemissedthewhole
scene.Iignorehim.

“Dad?”Isayasmyfatheropensthedoor.

Hefinallyturnsandlooksatme,andsuddenly,myeternallyyouthfulfatherlooksold,andthere’sa
lookinhiseyes,anempty,blanklook.“Daddy,areyouokay?”Iask,myeyesfilling.

“I’mfine,”heanswers.“Ineedtobealone,that’sall.”Andthenhe’sgone,arushofsummerhumidity
fillingthespacewherehejustwas.

CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE

M

YGLUMMOODCONTINUES

onSundaymorning.Ican’tshakethefeelingIgotwhenIsawthat

emptinessinmyfather ’seyes.Icallmymom,andshe’ssubdued,aswell.

“I’mnotdoingthistomakeapoint,”Momsaysquietly.“Harry’sgoodtome,Chastity.Icareabout
him,we’recompatible.AndI’mjust…”Shesighs,andIhearyearsoffatigueinthatsigh.“I’mjust
wornoutwithyourfather.Ifeellikeaneraserattheendofapencil.Justworndowntonothingfrom
yearsofthesamething.”

“Helookedsosad,Mom,”Iwhisper.“Hestilllovesyou.”

“That’snotthepoint,sweetheart.”She’squietforamoment.“HowarethingswithRyan?DidIsee
himatEmo’slastnight?”

“Don’tchangethesubject,Mom.WhataboutDad?”

“Whatdoyouwantmetosay,Chastity?”shesnaps.“Youdon’twanttohearit,letmeassureyou.”

“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”Iask.

“You.Youcloseyoureyestocertainthings,Chastity.”Hervoiceishard.

“Okay,fine.Youdon’twanttotellme,fine.Ihavesomeworktodo,anyway.”IclickEnd,wishingfor
thegoodolddayswhenapersoncouldslamdownthephone.

Idon’twork.Igoforalong,punishingrowinstead.It’shumid,thebugsareout,sweatstingsmy
eyes.Perfect.Itmatchesmymood.WhenIreturntomydock,I’msurprisedtoseeErnestothere.Shit.
IforgotI’dpromisedhimanotherlesson.

“Hey,Chastity!”hesays.“Congratulationsagainonpassingthetest.”

“Sametoyou,pal,”Isay,climbingoutoftheboat.“Sorry.Ikindofforgotaboutyou.”

“Wecanskipit,”heoffers.

“Nah.You’rehere.Let’sdoit.”

Forthenexthalfhour,IcoachErnesto,who’sactuallysomethingofanatural.Wetalkaboutthecost
ofsinglescullsandwherehecouldkeepsuchavessel.He’saniceguy,Ernesto.I’llmissseeinghim
everyweek.

“So,Chas,IgotajobwithAmesAmbulanceService,”hesays.“Theyhiredmetwoweeksago,so
longasIpassedyesterday.”

“Really?That’sgreat.”

“Whataboutyou?Areyougoingtoapply?They’rehiring,youknow.”

Igrimace.“No,Iwon’tapply.EventhoughIpassed,Ernie,I’mnotreallygoodaroundbloodand
gore.”

“Fooledme,”hesays.

“Fooledistherightword,”Ianswer.

I

GOTO

A

NGELA’SFORDINNER

thatnight.Herhouseishalfofatwo-familyunit,verycozyandwarm.

She’smadespinach-and-fetaphyllotrianglesandmarmalade-glazedshrimpandhandsmeahuge,
fruitydrinkwithanumbrellaandastrawinit.There’smangoinit,andgrapefruitjuiceand
somethingelse,andit’sabsolutelyfabulous.

“Willyoumarryme?”Iask.

“AreyoutalkingtoLegolasortome?”shequips.Indeed,Iamstandingrightinfrontofherlife-size
cutoutofthewittyelffromLordoftheRings.

“Both,Iguess,”Ianswer.Shecheckstheovenandthenasksmetohaveaseatinthelivingroom.
“Listen,Iwantedtotalktoyouaboutsomething,”shesays.

“Sure,”Isay,suckingdownsomemoreofthedeliciousdrink.

“Becareful,there’salcoholinthat,”shewarns.“Okay,well,rememberwhenTrevorandIwerekind
ofseeingeachother?”

“Yeah,”Ianswer.She’srightaboutthealcohol.I’malreadyalittlebuzzed.“Youknowwhat?Tellme
aboutthat.BecauseIthoughtyouguyswouldbecutetogether,andnowhe’swiththis…thisperson.
Andshe’snotverynice.”

Angelapauses.“Well,Trevorwas—is—verynice.Andverygood-looking,ofcourse.”

“Tellmeaboutit,”Imutter,suckingdownsomemoretropicalyumminess.

“Iguesstherewasjustnorealchemistry,”shesays.

“What?”Ibark.“Howcanyousaythat?He’s—”Iclampmymouthshut.“MostwomenfindTrevor
verychemistryish.Crap,listentome.What’sinthisdrink,Ange?Youtryingtoslipmeamickey?”

Shelaughs.“Vodkaandtriplesec,that’sall.Butgeneroushelpingsofboth,Iadmit.”Shetakesa
phyllotriangleandbitesintoit.“AboutTrevor…See,there’ssomeoneelse.”Hercheeksgonuclear,
andshetoyswithherring.“Imetsomeone,anditwasjust…it’syourbrother,Matt.”

Myeyespop.“Matt?What?WhataboutMatt?”Shenods.“You’reinterestedinMatt?”

“Yes,”sheadmits.“Actually,we’vebeenseeingeachotherforacoupleofweeks,Chastity.”

HowdoImissthesethings?“That’sgreat,Ange.Matt’sgreat.Andsecretive,apparently.Whydidn’t

youtellme?Whendidthisstart?”

“Itwasthatdayatthefirehouse,whenhewasshowingmesomerecipes,wejust…clicked.Andthen
heaskedforsomehelpaboutcollegecourses,hewantedmyadvice,andweendeduptalkingfor
hours.ButIwasstillkindofseeingTrevor,eventhoughwehadn’tsomuchaskissed.”

“Really?”Iblurt.

Angelasmiles.“Yes,Chastity.Honestly,thewholetimeweweretogether,IfeltlikeTrevorwas,I
don’tknow.Notreallyinterested.He’ssoniceanddecentandverycuteandall,andwehadareally
nicetimetogether,butwhenImetMatt,wejust…webothfeltit.Thatfeelingwhenyoujustknow.”

“Wow.”Isigh.Myglassis,alas,empty.“Soeveryone’sfineandhappy?”

“Ithinkso,”shesays.“IknowyouthinktheworldofTrevor,andIwasafraidyou’dbemad.”

“No,no,”Isay.“Trevoris…he’sgreat.”Iglanceattheceiling.“AndIguesshe’shappywithPerfect
Hayden.”

“Who’sPerfectHayden?”Angelaasks.

“Hisonceandfuturefiancée,apparently.”Isitupandsmilebrightly.“So.What’sfordinner?I’m
starving.”

Onmywayhomelaterthatnight,Ifeelinexplicablylonely.Soon,Iimagine,Mattwillmoveout.Get
married.Haveafewkids.Angelawillgofrombeingmyfriendtobeingyetanothersister-in-law,the
motherofmoreniecesornephews.NotthatIdon’tloveandadmireandenjoymysisters-in-law…
Crap.Idon’tknowwhat’swrongwithme.EvenwatchingReturnoftheKingdoesn’tcheermeup.I
putontheYankeesgame.We’relosing,tentotwo,andit’stheeighthinning.

MaybeI’llcallRyan,eventhoughit’slate.TheuncomfortablethoughtdawnsthatI’veturnedfirstto
Aragorn,thentoDerekJeter,beforecallingRyanevenoccurredtome.Stupid,isn’tit?HereIhavea
veryreal,veryconsiderateboyfriend,andI’mcheckingoutfictionalcharactersandsportsgodsfirst.

Withavengeance,Istabinhisnumber.“Hi,”Iblurt.

“Hi,hon,”heanswers.“Iwasjustthinkingofyou.”

Andmyheartfeelsalittlebitbetter.

CHAPTERTHIRTY

“W

HEREAREYOUGOING

,Chastity?”

Luciaisbackatwork,backtobeingbossyandapainintheass.Inconceivably,it’sgoodtohaveher
around.

“I’mcoveringtheriversidecleanup—veryexcitingstuff—andthenI’mgoingtomymother ’sfor
dinner,andthenI’llprobablygohomeandgotobed.DoIhaveyourpermission?”

Shefrowns.“You’reclosewithyourfamily,aren’tyou?”Itsoundslikeanaccusation.

“Yes.”Aflashofenvypassesthroughhereyes.“Whataboutyou,Lu?Areyouclosewithyours?”

Herlipstighten.“Notreally.Ihavetwosisters,botholder,andtheythinkthey’rebetterthanme.”
There’salotofhurtinthatadolescentsentence.“Likemyjobisn’tthatimportantandI’mwastingmy
timehere.”

“Well,forwhatit’sworth,Ithoughtyoursisterwasarealbitch,”Ioffer.

Herfacebreaksintoagrin.“Thanks,Chastity.”Welaugh.That’sright.LuciaandIarelaughing.
Togetherandsimultaneously.

“Lu—”Ibegintentatively.

“What?”sheasks.

“Ifyouwantedtowriteafeaturesarticleonceinawhile,I’dbewillingtoseehowitgoes.”Herface
lightsupundertheKabukimakeup.“Strictparameters,though,”Icontinue.“Withfullrighttorefuse
toprintanything.Andyou’dhavetoadheretothewordcount,becauseIdon’twanttoreadten
thousandwordsonapie-eatingcontest.”

Luciaisblinkingrapidlyagainsttears.“It’sabouttime.”

“You’rewelcome,”Isay,rollingmyeyes.“NowIhavetorun.Seeyoulater.”

T

HERIVERSIDECLEANUPTURNS

outtobemorefunthanIhadanticipated,andIspendtoomuchtime

chattingasIinterviewthedirectorofparksandrecreationandhermanyvolunteers.BythetimeIget
home,I’mrunninglate,soIheaveButtercupintothecaranddrivetoMom’shouse,fifteenminutes
aftertheinstructedtime.

Momisinthekitchen,fetchingbeers,whenIcomein.“Ireallywishyou’dbeenontimetoday,
Chastity.Theboysaregettingimpatient.”

“So?Whocaresabouttheboys?”Isay,automaticallyrevertingtomyadolescentself.

“Gointothelivingroom,”shesayssoberly,andasmalltwingeoffearsingsthroughmyjoints.

“Comeon,Buttercup,”Isay,andmydogfollowsmereluctantly,leavingthemicrobeshewas
sniffing.Sheflopsonthecarpetwithagroan.Mybrothersandtheirwivesarealreadyseated,Jack
andSarahinthebigchair,LuckyandTaraonthecouch.MattisreadingSportsIllustrated,andMark,
I’mhappytosee,isholdingElaina’shand.Elainasmilesatme.IsitnexttoLucky,shovinghis
shoulderuntilhegivesmemoreroom.

“Wherearethekids?”Iask.

“ThekidsarewatchingTheLionKing,”Momsays.“Nowbequiet,Ihavetotellyousomething.Matt,
stopreading.QuestionscomeafterI’mdone.Allright?”

IthrowElainaaglanceofconfusion.Evenshe,whoadoresmymother,looksworried.

Momlooksatthefloorandfoldsherarmsacrossherchest.“HarryandIaregettingmarried.”

Therefrainfrom“HakunaMatata”driftsupfromunderourfeet.Buttercupmoansinhersleep.It’s
theonlysoundforagoodfifteenseconds.

“Holycrap,”Jackbreathes.

“Julytwenty-third,”Momcontinues.“Ofcourse,I’dlikeyoutobethere,butifyouhaveaproblem
withthat,Iunderstand.”

IfeellikeI’vebeenpunchedinthesolarplexus.Shecan’tmarryHarry.Shecan’t.“Mom?”Iwhisper.
Mythroatistight.

“Youjustmethim,”Marksays.

“Threemonthsago,honey.”

“DoesDadknow?”Mattasks.

“Notyet.”Mom’sjawistight.

“Mamí,”Elainasayshesitantly,“whytherush?”

“Lifeistooshort,”Momanswersbriskly.

“Mom?”Iwhisperagain,butLuckyinterruptsthistime.

“Areyousureaboutthis,Mom?Iknowyou’vebeenmadatDad,butthisseemsalittle…dramatic.”

“Thisisn’taboutyourfather,Luke.It’saboutHarryandmeandmyfuture.”

“Arewesupposedtobehappyforyou,Ma?”Jackasks,anedgeinhisvoice.

“Youcanbehappyornot,”shesays.“Itwon’tchangeanything.”

“WhataboutDad?”Markasks.“What’shesupposedtodo,Mom?”

Sheshakesherhead.“Idon’tknow.”Shesighs.“Listen,Iknowhe’sgoingtobeangry.He’llneedyou
kids.”

“Whenareyougoingtotellhim?”Sarahasks.

“Tonight.”Momlooksgrim.“He’sataunionmeetingrightnow,buthe’scomingoverlater.”

Myvoiceisn’tworking.AndIthinkthere’ssomethingwrongwithmyheart,becauseit’sbeating
sicklyinmychest,slowandtoohard.

“Isthatall?”Jackaskstightly.

“That’sall.”Momsighs.“Iknowthisisabombshell,kids,butIthinkyoushouldallgohome.Call
metomorrowifyouhaveanythingelsetosay.Okay?”Theboysriseobediently.“Chastity,honey,
willyoustayalittlewhile?”

Inodwordlessly.

Likeghosts,mybrothersandtheirspousesgathertheirkidsandtrickleoutthedoor.It’seerilyquiet.I
justsitonthecouchinthefadinglightandstareattherug.Mymindisblank.

Momcomesinfromwavingtothelastofhergrandchildrenandsitsinherchairacrossfromme.“I
knowthisasurprise,Chastity,”shesays.

Arazorseemswedgedinmyvocalcords.“Mom,”Isayinaroughwhisper,“howcanyoudothis?
YouloveDaddy.”

Shestaresatme,thencomesoverandsitsdownnexttome.“Honey,Idid.Foralongtime,hewas…”
Shesighs.“Hewastheloveofmylife.”

“Soyoucan’tmarryHarry,Mom!NotifyoustillloveDaddy!”Isoundlikeaten-year-old,butIcan’t
helpit.Buttercupcomesovertomeandputsherheadonmylap.

“Lovegetsusedup,Chastity,”Momsaysgently,reachinguptosmoothmyhair.“Ifit’snotreturned,
itgetsusedup.”

“Helovesyou,Mom!”AteardropsonButtercup’snose,andshelicksitaway.“OfcourseDadloves
you.”

“Notinthesameway,honey.”Sheleansbackagainstthecouchandfiddleswithherbracelet.
“Chastity,youcan’tspendyourlifelovingsomeonemorethanyou’reloved.Youknowthat,don’t
you?Itmakesyoufeelsmall,nomatterhowtallyoumightbe.”Shegivesasmall,sadsmile.

“What…whatareyoutalkingabout?”

“Trevor.”

Isuckinabreath.“I—I—Idon’t—”

“Yes,youdo,honey.YouloveTrevor.You’velovedhimsinceyouwereakid.”

Myfacecrumples,thetearscomingfasternow.“Okay,well,yes.Butlet’stalkaboutyouandDaddy,”
Iwhisper.

“Okay.ButIthinkyou’rebeingsmarttofindsomeoneelse,someonewhothinksyoulightupthe
room.”Shepauses,staringatthefloor.“Notsomeonewhodoesn’tevenreallyseeyouanymore.”

Idon’tknowifshe’stalkingaboutmeorherorTrevororRyanorDad.Iwipemyeyesandtryto
swallow.

“I’mtiredoffightingtogetyourfathertonoticeme,”shesays,lookingsowearyandwisethatIhave
toclenchmyjawshutsoIdon’tsob.“Hespenttoomanyyearsjustexpectingmetobetherewhenhe
feltlikenoticing.ThereIwas,motheroffive,keepingthehouse,cooking,runningyoukidsallover,
takingcareofyouwhenyouweresick,andIwasstilljustasinlovewithhimaswhenwefirstmet.
Meanwhile,hejustkeptdoingwhateverhefeltlikedoing.Thejob,theguys,youkidswhenthemood
struckhim.ItseemedlikeeverythingwasmoreimportantthanIwas.”

ButtercupmovesherheadtoMom’slapnow,andMomstrokesthedog’sbigears.

“DoyoureallyloveHarry?”Iaskaroundthethorninmythroat.

“Yes,”shesayssimply,andmyheartcracks.“Ilikefeelingnewandinterestingand…well,adored.”

Inod,miseryrisingoffmelikeafog.

“Iwashopingyou’dbemymaidofhonor,Chastity,”shesays.“Thoughyoudon’thavetoanswer
now,ofcourse.”

Idon’twanttobreakdowninfrontofmymother,soIstandup.“Ihavetogo,”Isqueak.

“Okay,”shesays,standingtooandhuggingme.“Iloveyou,honey.”

“Iloveyou,too,Mom.”Ichoke.“Ijusthavetoruntomyroomforasec.”WithButtercuponmy
heels,Iescapedownthehall.

AsIwasthelastkidtoleaveforcollege,myroomwassparedfrombeingmadeoverintothedenor
sewingroom,aswerethetworoomsthatheldtheboys.Sittingonmyoldbedhereinthegloom,
Buttercupbesideme,Ilookaround.Mybasketballtrophiesstillsitonthetopshelfofthebookcase.
TheGooGooDollsstareatmefromaposter.Myfuzzylavenderrug,whichIthoughtsoutterly
feminineatthetime,looksconsiderablymoreRastafarianthanitoncedid.Otherwise,notmuchhas
changed.

Tearsaredrippingdownmycheeks.Itrytotakeadeepbreathandgetagrip.Ifail.

Ioncebelievedineverlastinglove.Ithoughtthat,attherootofeverything,beneaththeirritationand
impatienceandbickering,myparentswouldalwaysloveeachother.Wouldalwaysbetogether,even

whentheywereapart.Ididn’tknowthatsomeonecouldbetheloveofyourlifeandthenfadefrom
yourheart.Ididn’tknowyourheartcouldfeellikeaused-uperaser,rubbeddown,grimyfrom
neglectandoveruse.It’sanunbearablethought.Unbearable.

Thebackdoorslams.“Betty?”Myfather ’svoiceislacedwithpanic.Ididn’thearhiscar.

“Betty,Jackjustcalledme.Betty!”Myfather,whothinksnothingoftrampingthroughburning
buildingsonfloorsweakenedbyflame,soundslikeafrightenedchild.“Youcan’tbeserious,honey.
Youcan’tdothis!”

Theirvoicescometomewithhorribleclarity,andthoughIhatehearingthemtalk,I’mweldedtothe
bed.Buttercuprestsherheadonthepurplerugandwatchesme.

“Mike,I’msorry,butIam.I’mmarryingHarry.”There’snoangerinmymom’svoice,justsadness
andresignationandanunderlying,bleakhonesty.

“Oh,Betty.”Ihaveneverheardmyfathercrybefore.I’veseentearsinhiseyes,yes.Quietwithgrief
orsharpwithfear,yes,butthisrawsobbingpunchesmerightinthethroat.

“I’llretire.I’lldoittomorrow!I’llcallthechiefrightnow,Betty—”

“It’snotthat,Mike.It’stoolate.Ireallyamsorry.”

“Youcan’t!Youstillloveme.Please!Iloveyou,Betty.Ialwayshave.”

Mom’svoiceissoothingandkind,horriblygentle—nottheFatherDonnellyvoice,buttheloving-
mothervoice,theoneweheardwhenwewerefeverishorstomachsickorcryingbecauseweweren’t
popularenoughorhatedbeingtall.“Igaveyouyearstoretire,Mike.Ifyoudoitnow,it’sjust
becauseyoudon’twantmewithsomeoneelse.It’snotreallyforme.”

“Please,Betty.”

“No.I’msorry,Mike.Partofmewillalwaysloveyou,andwe’llalwayshavethekidsandgrandkids,
butit’sovernow.”

Myfather ’scryingbreaksmyheart.

Momtalkssomemore,butIdon’thearit.Afterafewminutes,thekitchendoorclosesandIhearan
enginestart,thenMom’sfootstepscomingdownthehall.Sheopensmydoor,leansagainstthedoor
frameandlooksatme.

“IsDaddyokay?”Iwhisper.

“IcalledMark,andheandLukearegoingover.”Shelooksatthefloor.“Ithinkyoushouldgonow,
honey.Iwanttobealone.”

I

DRIVEHOMELIKEAZOMBIE

andfeedButtercup.Standingthere,watchingherdevouringherkibbles,

herjowlsfloppingagainstthebowl,Ifeelthewallsclosingin.Ican’tthinkaboutmyparents—it’stoo
sad.Ihavetogetoutofhere.

WhereIwanttogoandwhereIshouldgoaredifferentplaces.Ishovemyfeetintomyhigh-topsand
rundowntheblock,towardtheplaceIshouldgo.

It’sfulldarknow,andthemusicofasummernightflowsaroundme,radiosplayinganddoors
slamming,kidsscreaming,abaseballgamedownatReillyPark.Restaurantcourtyardsarepacked;
fairylightstwinkle;peoplearelaughinganddrinkingandeatingandhavingawonderfulbleeping
time.Ikeeprunning,myflat-soledhigh-topsslappingonthepavement.

EatonFallsGeneralHospitalisartificiallybrightandwelcoming.Hi!Gladyou’rehere!Haveagreat
time!thefoyerseemstoshout;it’sdecoratedwithbrightmuralsandfichustrees.Greatchoice,Ithink
viciously.

“CanIhelpyou?”Thewomanatthefrontdeskbeams.

“Whichflooristhesurgicalfloor?”Iask.

“Thatwouldbesix,”sheanswers.“Areyouvisitingapatient?”

“No,”Ianswer.“IneedtoseeDr.Darling.”

“Icanhavehimpaged,”sheoffers,butI’malreadylopingtotheelevators.

MystepsarefastandhardasIstridedowntowardthesixth-floornurses’station.“IsRyanDarling
around?”Iask.

Anursestaresatmedisapprovingly.“He’swithapatient.”

“Isheinsurgery?”

“He’swithapatient,”sherepeatsloudly,asifI’mhardofhearing.Shelooksmeupanddown,
judgmentheavyinherface“Whydon’tyoucallhisofficeandmakeanappointment?”

“Whydon’tyoubackoff,okay?He’smyboyfriend.”Thereshouldreallybeabetterwordthan
boyfriend.Somethingwithdignityandsolemnity.BoyfriendmakesitsoundlikeI’mfifteen.

“Thefactremainsthathe’s—With.A.Patient.”

“Fine!IstheresomewhereIcanwait?”

Thenurse,whoisassweetandcompassionateas,say,NurseRatched,sighsdramatically.“There’sa
waitingroomreservedforfamiliesattheendofthehall.Pleasetrytobesensitivetothem,won’t
you?”

Stiflingtheurgetopunchherinthestomach,Ibarreldownthehall,notdaringtoglanceintherooms
thatlineeitherside.I’mmiserableenoughwithoutseeingsadfamiliesandsickpeople.

Thewaitingroomisempty,thoughafewDunkinDonutcupsannouncerecentoccupancy.CNNison
thetelevisionmountedonthewall,butIdon’tlookatthat,either.Myfather ’sbrokenvoiceechoesin
myhead.Heneverbelievedthiswouldhappen.Hejustdidn’tlisten.

SoonerthanImighthaveexpected,Ryanopensthedoor.He’swearingscrubsandawhitedoctor ’s
coat,andifhe’sbeendealingwithhumansuffering,itdoesn’tshow.He’sstillasicilyattractiveasthe
firsttimeIsawhim.Mr.NewYorkTimes.“Chastity!Whatanicesurprise,”hesays,givingmeakiss.
“Howareyou?Justheretopaymeavisit?”

“Ryan,Ihavesomebadnews.”Mythroatclampsshutagain.“Mymotherisgettingmarried.”My
voicecracksonthelastword.

“ToHarry?”heasks,ratherobtusely.

No,dumbass,Iwanttosay.ToBarackObama.“Yes,toHarry,”Isnap.

“Isn’tthatnice,”hemurmurs,thenseemstoseemyexpressionforthefirsttime.“Ornot.”

“Myfatherisdevastated,Ryan,”Iannounce,ahardedgeinmyvoice.

“Sure,sure,”heplacates.“Butstill…”Hethinksbetteroffinishingandglancesathiswatch.

“Butstillwhat,Ryan?”Idemand.

Hetipshisheadandshrugs.“Still,Chastity,youhavetolookatthebrightside.Iknowyou’re
probablysadthatyourmother ’smovingon,butyourparentsaredivorced,afterall.Yourmomis
marryingsomeonewhothinksveryhighlyofher,someonewho’sverycomfortablefinancially.It’sa
goodmatch.”

Agoodmatch.Wherearewe,MedievalEngland?Tearsarewellingbehindmyeyes.Iswallow
loudly,angerflickeringinmystomach.

“Don’tbesad,sweetheart,”hesays,hiseyesflickingtotheclock.

“Doyouhavetogo?”

“Ihaverounds,”headmits.

“Okay,”Isaystiffly.“Seeyoulater.”

“Hey,doyouthinkwe’llstillgotothecitythisweekend?”Ryanasks,anoteofconcernfinally
tingeinghisvoice.

IfIstayanothersecond,Iwillpunchhimintheeye.“Igottago,”Iblurt.“Seeyou.”

“Chastity,”hecalls,butI’malreadystridingbackpastthebitchynursetotheelevator.Istabthelobby
buttonwithunnecessaryforce,grindingmyteethasIwaitforthestupidboxtodescend.Iburstoutof
thedoor,rushpastafamilyandbackoutintothesultrysummernight.Runningoncemore,astitchin
mysidenow,Iheadfordowntown.TowhereIwantedtogointhefirstplace.Myeyesarestreaming,

mynoseisrunning.Soattractive.

BeforeI’mcompletelyawareofit,IfindmyselfstandinginfrontofTrevor ’sbuilding.Someone
nearbyplaysaguitar,thegentlestrummingfloatingeasilytomyears.Ababycries.Gazingupatthe
windowsinthenortheasterncornerofthebuilding’stopfloor,Iseelights.He’shome.

Someone’sjustcomingoutofthebuilding,soIdon’thavetobuzzmyselfup,justgrabthedoor
beforeitswingsclosed.Irunthroughthelobbyandupthestairs,takingthemtwoatatime,whipping
aroundeachlandingandchargingupthenextflightlikeaMarine.WhenIreachthefourthfloor,I
burstintothehallwayandskidtoahaltinfrontofapartment4D.

Iknocksharply,mybreathragged,andwhenTrevoranswersthedoor,lookingmorethanalittle
surprised,Idon’twait.Ijustthrowmyselfintohisarms.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE

“C

HASTITY,WHATISIT

?”heasks,tryingtopullbacktoseemyface.Idon’tlethim,justclenchhim

againstme,feelingthewarmthofhisneckagainstmycheek,thecomfortingstrengthofhisarms
aroundme,thesmellofsoapandshampoo.Oh,God,Irecognizethesesmells,thisfeeling.I
remembereverythingabouthim.

“Mymom…”Myvoiceisunrecognizableeventome.

“Isshehurt?”Hisvoiceiscalmandquiet,evenaskingsuchaquestion.

“No!”Isob.“She’sfine.”

“Comeonin,sweetheart.”Trevordisentangleshimselffromme,takesmyhandandleadsmeintohis
apartment.I’veneverbeenhere.Hislivingroomispaintedawarmyellow,there’safireplaceanda
lotofplants,andIcan’tseeanymorebecauseofthetearsinmyeyes.Hepushesmegentlyontothe
couchandleavestheroom,returninginasecondwithaboxoftissues,whichhehandsme.

“What’sthematter,Chastity?”heasksasIblowmynoseloudly.Ineedseveraltissuestomopupmy
tears.Myhandsareshaking,andsoaremylegs.Ican’tanswerrightaway.“Chas,honey,what’s
wrong?”Trevorkneelsinfrontofmeandtakesmyhands.

“She’sgettingmarried,Trevor,”Iwhisper,thenstartbawlingagain.“She’sgettingmarriedtoHarry
andmyfatherisso…hesoundedso…andIjust—Ineverthought—theylovedeachother—but
now…”

Trevorslidesontothesoftbrowncouchandholdsme,lettingmecryintohisneck.Hestrokesmy
hairandmurmursthingsIcan’tquitehearovertheraw,seal-likebarkingofmysobs.HeshiftssoI’m
closer,kissesthetopofmyhead,and,crap,Igivein.

Ican’thidefrommyselfanymore.IloveTrevor.Alwayshave,alwayswill.Ineverstopped,andright
now,Ilovehimmorethanever.Fortwelveyears,I’vebeentryingtomakehimjustoneoftheguys.

He’snot.

Ilovehim.AndlikeMom’sloveforDad,thatlovemightbeworndownbytimeanddejection.
SomedayImightlookatTrevor,myTrevor,thewaymymomnowseesmyfather…themanwho
usedupherheart.

“Trevor,I—”Myvoicebreaksoff.Ipullbacktolookathim.

Heknows.Icanseeitinhiseyes,hefeelshowmuchIlovehimstill,andmaybehe’salwaysknown.
Hecupsmyfaceinonehand,histhumbslidingawaymytears,strokingmycheek.

Ikisshim.

It’sakissfilledwithlongingandheartbreakandsorrowandhurt…andlove,ofcourse,becauseit’s
burnedinmysoul,somehow,thatIwasmeanttoloveTrevor,thatnomatterwhathefeelstowardme,

Ilovehimwithmywholeheartandeverymoleculeandmuscleandfiberofme,everyounceof
blood.AndIdon’twantthattobewornaway.

Forasecond,hedoesn’tmove,doesn’trespond,andtheechoofrejectionstartstosoundinmyheart
onceagain.

Andthenhekissesmeback,hardandsoftatthesametime,hismouthdesperateandhungryonmine.
Oh,thankGod,Ithink.ThankGod.

Hishandsareonmyskin,undermyshirt,burninghot.Islidemyhandsthroughhisthick,still-damp
hair,openingmylipsunderneathhis,andwrapmylegsaroundhim.Myfootconnectswiththecoffee
table,whichfallsoverwithathunk,butwedon’tstop.There’snothingthatmattersbutus.Thetwoof
us,comingtogetheragain,atlast.It’sbeensolong,butit’slikewewereneverapart.Hefeelsso
warmandsmoothandhotandso,sogood.Soperfect.Absolutelyright.

Iyankhisshirtopen,tearingoffafewbuttons,butwhocares?I’velovedhimforsolong.

We’renotgentle,andwe’renotgraceful.We’reaforceofnatureaswepulloffclothesandkickoff
shoes.Somethingelsebreaks,butit’sjustbackgroundnoise.Thecouchcushionslidesandweroll
ontotheflooranddon’tevencomeupforair.Icanbarelyhear,myheartispoundingsohard.My
skinisburning,andwhenIfeelTrevoragainstme,hisskinjustashotasmine,Isuckinaragged
breath.“Chastity,”hesays,hisvoicetightandrough.

“Please.Please,Trevor.”Pleasedon’tstop.Pleasedon’tsendmeaway.Pleaselovemeagain.

Hesaysnothingmore,hiseyesdarkandmolten,andwhenwecometogether,Iknowthatthisishow
it’smeanttobe.That’sall.It’sjustthewaythingsshouldbe.He’smyhome,andIbelongexactly
whereIam.Thenmybrainstopsformulatingthought,andonlyfeelingisleft.Ilovehimsomuchmy
heartpracticallycracksintwo.

Ittakessometimeformybreathingtoreturntonormal,formyvisiontoclear.Trevorisstill,his
heartthuddingagainstmine,hisfaceagainstmyneck.Hisownbreathisragged,hisarmsstilltight
aroundme.

Thecouchcushionsareindisarray,oneofthemlyingpartlyonus,theothersaskew.Thecoffeetable
isonitsside,andIcanseeafewbrokenshardsofglass.I’mgoingtohaveabruiseonmyhip,and
I’mfairlysureI’veleftsomegougemarksonTrevor ’sback.

Iwanttostayinthatmomentofrightness,butrealityisknocking.Aprickleofguiltpiercesthefogof
perfection,butIcan’tbeartoletitincompletely.

“Trev?”Ibreathe.

“Yeah.”Heliftshisheadandlooksatme,hisfaceserious,cheeksflushed.Thenhetakesadeepbreath
andgetsup.“Doyouneedadrink?”heasks,pullingonhisjeans.Withoutwaitingforananswer,he
goesintothekitchen.

It’snotagoodsign.Iputmyhandtomylips,whichstillfeelswollenandhot.Ilaythereforanother
minute,thenscrambleup,reachingformyshirt,myunderwear,myshorts.Mysocksarestillon.I

dresshastily,glancingintothekitchenwhereTrevorstandsinfrontofthesink,hishandsbracedon
eitherside,thewaterrunning.Themusclesinhisbroadshouldersarebunchedandtense,andhishead
ishanging.Hedoesn’tfillaglass,doesn’tturnoffthewater.Hejuststandsthere,motionless,andI
canfeeltheregretpouringoffhiminwaves.

Saysomething,Trevor,Ipleadsilently.Makethisbeokay.Iwanthimtocometome,wrapmeinhis
arms,tellmethatthiswasn’tamistake.Hedoesnothing,juststandstherewatchingthewaterrun.

ThoughIwanttogotohim,reassurehim,touchhim,Idon’tdare.Notwhenhecan’tevenlookatme.

ThenI’mdistractedbyasuddenbuzzingatmyfeet.Ilookdown.Trevor ’scellphone,which
apparentlyfellduringouracrobatics,isvibratingontherug.IglanceagainatTrevor ’stense
shoulders,thenreachdownandlookatthescreen.

IncomingcallfromHayden.

Idropitbackonthecarpetandkickitunderthecouch.Trevorwillhavetofinditlater,won’the?
He’llhavetosearchalloverandwonder,WhattheheckdidIdowithmyphone?Wherecoulditbe?

He’sstillstaringatthewater.

Ihavetwochoiceshere.LeavewithdignityorgiveitallIhave.Andyouknowwhat?Screwdignity.

“Hey,Trev?”Isaygently.“Maybeyoucouldcomeinhere?”

Heturnshisheadandnodsonce.Thenhereachesfortwoglassesandfillsthem,finallydeigningto
returntothelivingroom.Hesetstheglassesonthetable,picksupthepiecesoftheglassthatbroke,
thenreachesforhisshirt.Hecan’tbuttonit,though,sinceI’drippedthethingoff.Thenhestraightens
thecouchcushionsandsitsdown.

“Chastity,”hebegins,finallymeetingmyeyes.MystomachplummetsatwhatIseethere.

“Ifthisisthe‘weshouldn’thavedonethis’speech,canIjustsaysomethingfirst?”Iask.Myvoiceis
rough,evenalittlescared.

“You’reseeingsomeone,”hesaysquietly.

Ilookdown.Ofcoursehe’sright.I,whopracticallybeatmybrotherMarktoapulpwhenhecheated
onElaina,havejustcheatedonmyownboyfriend.Shameburnsmyface.Isitinthechairadjacentto
Trevorandswallow.“Iknow,”Iwhisper.

“AndsoamI,”hesays.

Crap.Itakeadeepbreath.“Trevor,youmustknowthatI’vealwayslov—”

“Don’t,Chas,”Trevorsays,staringathisknees.

“Don’twhat?”

“Don’tsayit,anddon’tbreakupwithRyan.”

Idon’tthinkthere’sanythingelsehecouldsaythatwouldhurtworsethanthat.Mymouthopens,but
nosoundcomesout.Helooksupatme.

“Idon’twanttobethereasonthingsdon’twork.”Hiseyesareintenselydarknow,deadserious.“He’s
agoodguy,Chas.HecangiveyoualotthatInevercould.Andhelovesyou.”Hereachesoverand
takesmylimphand.

I’mnotstupid.Helovesyou…andIdon’t.Notranslationneeded.Myheadhurts.Myhearthurts,too.It
actuallyhurtslikethere’sableepingicepickstuckthroughit.Iyankmyhandbacksohardthatmy
elbowhitsthearmofthechairwithathud.“So,okay,Trev,”Isay,tryingnottocry.“Sowe’rejust
goingto,what,sleeptogethereverydecadeorso,andI’llbeallmessedupforanothertenyearsand
you’llpretendtobemybigbrother?”Myvoicegrowslouder.“Huh?Isthathowit’sgoingtogo?”

“No,Chastity,”hesays.“Thiswon’thappenagain.I’msorry,I’mreallysorry.Itshouldn’thave
happenedatall.YouknowitaswellasIdo.”

Ilurchoutofmychair.“ItseemsthatIdon’tknowanything,Trevor,orelseIwouldn’thavejust
shaggedyousenseless,nowwouldI?”

“Chastity—”Hestands,aswell,holdinghishandsuptoplacateme,andIfeelthestrongurgetosock
himagoodone.“Chas,you—”Heletshishandsdropandshakeshishead.

“No,goahead,Trevor.Sayit.”Ipointashakingfingerathim.“Ifweweretogetheranddidn’twork,
you’dbeoutyourprecioussurrogatefamily.You’reafraidoflosingthem.Atleastadmitthat,Trevor.
MyfamilymeansmoretoyouthanIdo.”

Trevor ’sfacechanges.Hetakesastepclosertome.Forthefirsttimeinmylife,Iseethathe’sangry.
Furious,maybe.“Wrong,”hegrowlsinavoiceI’veneverheard.“Very,verywrong,Chastity.Ifwe
weretogetheranddidn’twork,I’dbeoutyou.You’retheoneIcan’tlose.”

Mymouthopensandclosesacoupleoftimes.“What?”

“You’retheonewhosaidwehadtoomuchtolose,remember?”

“Butthingsaredifferentnow,Trevor.Youcan’t—”

Hisvoiceissharpandhardandwrong.“Youwereright,that’sthething.We’llneverdisappointeach
otherthisway,Chastity.We’llneverbreakup.Nevergetdivorced.”Hetakesastepback,theanger
drainingoutofhim.“Youcandobetterthanme,Chas.”

“Thereisnobetterthanyou.”Isayitwithmywholeheart,buthejustshakeshishead.

“Youknowhowitwouldbe.Firefightersmakenexttonothing.I’dbeworkingtwojobs,takingallthe
overtimeIcouldget,andyou’dstarthatingmeafterawhile.Likeyourmomanddad.”

Myeyesfloodwithtears.Again.Hehasapoint.

“Ifwestayapart,wewon’tenduplikethat,”hesays,hisvoicegentlenow.“IlostMichelle,Ilostmy
parents,Idon’twanttoloseyou,Chastity.Ican’t.”

“Trevor,”Iwhisper.“Icouldneverhateyou.Iloveyou.I’vealwayslovedyou.”

Andthat’swhenthebleepingphonerings.Notthecellphoneunderthecouch,buthislandline.We
stareateachotherasitringsonce,twice,threetimes.Icanfeelthebloodbeingforcedthroughmy
heart,thepulsethuddinginmythroat.Trevor ’smachineclickson.

“Hi,babe,it’sme.Justwantedtomakesurewewerestillonfortomorrow.Callme.Loveyou.”

Trevorcloseshiseyes,andhisshoulderssag.Ihavemyanswer.

“Youknowwhat,Trev?”Iask,myvoicejustaboveawhisper.“I’mgonnagonow.”

“That’snotwhatyouthink,”hesays.

Oh,forChrist’ssake.Ofallthestupidthingstosay!Suddenly,mytempercomescrashingthrough,
andI’mbuzzingwithfury.“Really,Trev?BecausewhatIthinkisthatPerfectHaydenwantsyouback.
Andallthat‘don’twanttoloseyou’isutterbullshit.Butjustincaseit’strue,guesswhat?Youdidlose
me.Justnow.”

“Don’tsaythat,Chastity,”hewarns.

“Biteme,Trevor,”Isnarl.“I’mnotyoursister,I’mnotyourbestbuddy,I’mnotyourgirlfriend.
You’reright.Someoneouttherelovesme,wantsme,thinksI’mgreat.Sogetthefuckoutofmyway
andletmegotohim.”

Hedoesjustthat.

I

WALKALONGTHEFEEDERCANAL

.Correction.Istompalongthefeedercanal,furious.I’msoangryI’m

practicallylevitating.WishIhadapunchingbagIcouldlayintorightaboutnow.God!DidIlearn
nothingtwelveyearsago?DidInotrememberhowrelievedTrevorwastobreakupwithme?Fool
meonce,Elainalikestosay,shameonyou.Foolmetwice,I’mableepingidiot.

Isitdownontheedgeofthebank,thedewseepingintomyjeans.Myhandsareshaking,andmy
cheeksarewetwithangrytears.Thetreebranchesrustlewithapassingbreeze,andapolicesiren
soundsontheothersideoftown.Isniff,thenfishafrayedtissueoutofmypocketandblowmynose.

AtleastIknow.Iputitallontheline,allmyloveandwanting.AtleastIsaidwhatI’vewantedtosay
forever.ItoldTrevorIlovedhim.There’sno“whatif”anymore.

Thingshesaidfilterbackintomyconsciousness.Thathecouldn’tloseme.Twelveyearsago,whenI
waseighteen,I’dsaidthattohim.There’stoomuchtolose.AndIdounderstandwhathemeans…that
ifwe’reonlyfriends,wecanstayfriendsforever.

Butwe’renotonlyfriends.Ilovehim,andIofferedhimthatlove,anditwasn’tenoughtoovercome

thatfearofhis.Thefearofbeingalone.Oflosinganotherpersoninhislife.Keepingthingssafeis
whatTrevorprizesmost.

It’sjustthatIthoughtmaybeIwasworthalittlerisk.

Mybreathisstillhitchingoutofmeinshockedlittlesobs.IcanstillfeelTrevor ’sskinagainstmine,
stilltastehim,buttohim,it’samistake.Thathangingoutatmyhouseonceinawhile,watchingthe
Yanksandshootingpool,meansmorethanwhatjusthappened.ThatI’mmoreprecioustohimifI
juststayoneoftheguys.

Andthenthere’sbleepingPerfectHayden.HeoncelovedHaydenenoughtoaskhertomarryhim.He
lovesherenoughnowtobe,attheveryleast,consideringthatagain.Haydenisworthtwotries.I’m
worthnone.

Mycellphonerings,startlingme.Maybeit’sTrevor.Maybehe’ssorry.Maybe…

Nope.“Hi,Ryan,”Isay.

“Hello,sweetheart.”Hepauses.“Areyoucrying?”

Freshtearsspurtoutofmyeyes.“Alittle,”Iadmit,guiltandshamewashingoverme.

“Isityourmom?”Idon’tdeservetheconcerninhisvoice.

“I—yeah.”

“Wantmetocomeover?I’mdoneatthehospital.”

Iwipemyeyesonmysleeveandlookatthestars.“No,thanks,Ryan.Ijustneedtobealone,Ithink.”

“Iunderstand,”hesays.“ButI’llseeyoutomorrow,okay?”

“Ryan?”

“Yes?”

“I’mreallylookingforwardtogoingawaythisweekend,”Isaytruthfully.

“Me,too.”Icanhearthesmileinhisvoice.“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.Iloveyou,Ryan.”IwinceasIsayit.Eventhoughit’snotuntrue,thosewordsmean
somethingverydifferentfromwhenIsaidthemtoTrevorahalfhourago.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO

S

OMETHING’SDEADINME

.Nowthat’sapleasantthoughttohaveonaromanticweekendwithone’s

gorgeousboyfriend,isn’tit?

RyanandIcheckintotheSoHoGrandHotel,aplacesostylishandswankythatthemaidsarebetter
dressedthanIam.ButapparentlyRyanisaregular,becausetheconciergegreetshimwith,
“Wonderfultoseeyouagain,Dr.Darling.”

Weareshowntoourpainfullychichotelroom,acornersuitewithminimalistfurnitureandstunning
viewsofthecity.“Thisisbeautiful,Ryan,”Isayafterhe’stippedthebellboy/aspiringactorwhois
nearlyashandsomeasRyanhimself.

“Well,Iwantedittobespecial,”heacknowledgesalittlesheepishly.Thenhekissesmeandglancesat
thebed.“Careto…?”

“Youknowwhat,Ryan?I’malittletired,”Isay.It’snotalie.Thetruthis,I’mtiredofcomparingthe
twomeninmylife.Correction.Therearen’ttwomeninmylife,arethere?There’sjustthisone.

Welieonthebeautiful,sleekbed,holdinghands.ItellhimalittlebitaboutwhereIhungoutwhenI
wasagraduatestudent,placesIventuredwhenIworkedinNewarkandcametothecityforfun.He
talkslovinglyabouthisendlessresidencyatColumbiaPresbyterian,hishorriblehours,thelittleThai
placethathefrequented,thepartsofCentralParkwhereherelaxed.

LookingatRyan,Idon’tfeelthesoul-wrenchingacheIfeel—felt—forTrevor.There’salottobe
saidforthat.IfI’mnotmistaken,Ryanisgoingtopopthequestionthisweekend,andI’mgoingto
accept.Enoughbeatingofthepoorproverbialalreadydeceasedhorse.Thedeadthinginmewill
hardenandcrumbleawayintotinybits.JustlikeitdidforMom.

Wehavedrinksinthelounge,stylish,deliciouslyexpensivedrinks(whoknewamartinicouldcost
$25?)andheadupBroadwaytoseeWicked.It’swonderful.Ilovetheshow.Ryanagreesthatitwas
excellent.Thenwehavealatedinneratyes,theRainbowRoom.Becausemyboyfriendisawealthy
surgeon,Ifeelnocompunctionaboutorderingfiletmignonandanothergold-standardmartini.Later,
wedancetotheorchestraand,ofcourse,Ryanisasmoothdancer.

“You’regoodatthis,”Isay,smilingupathim,sinceIhadthesensetowearflats.

“Ballroomdancinglessonswerepartofmyeducation.Seventhgrade,”heconfesses.

“I’veneverdancedwithaguywhoreallyknewwhathewasdoing.”

“You’reprettygoodyourself,”hesays,givingmeaquickkiss.

“Iloveyou,”Itellhim,moreformysakethanhis.

“Iloveyou,too,”hesays.“Infact—”hereleasesmyhandtoreachintohisbreastpocket“—I’m
hopingyou’lldomethehonorofbeingmywife.”

Whatsongisplaying?Idon’trecognizeit.Ryansmilesbeautifullyandslidesachunkydiamondring
ontothefourthfingerofmylefthand.

“It’sgorgeous,”Isay,anditis,platinumwithanemerald-cutstoneflankedbytwosmallerdiamonds.
Stunning,likesomethingoutoftheNewYorkTimesmagazine.

“Willyoumarryme?”hesays,moreforprotocolthananythingelse.

“Yes,”Isay,andIwrapmyarmsaroundhisneckandkisshim,andthepeoplearoundusapplaudand
smile.

Thiswillbemylife,Ithinkaswestrollafewblocks.Theairisdryandclear,alightbreezeswirls
throughmyhair,thesmellofbreadperfumestheair.Allaroundus,Manhattansparklesandhums.I
holdupmyhandtoinspectmyring,andRyangrins.“Myparentswillbeverypleased,”hesays.

“Really?”Isay,andhelaughsandsqueezesmyhand.VisionsofThanksgivingandChristmaswithDr.
andMrs.Darling(andBubbles)floatthroughmyhead,assurrealasaSalvadorDalipainting.“Mine
willbe,too.”

“Ofcourse,”Ryansays.Itrynottorollmyeyes.Instead,IpictureRyanholdinghisownatour
Thanksgivingtouch-footballgamewhich,thoughitsoundsKennedy-esqueandgood-spirited,
rewardscreative,dirty,after-the-whistletypehits.Ofcourse,wewouldn’twanttoinjureRyan’sgifted
hands,sohemighthavetoexcusehimself.Still.Itcouldbefun.

Wesleepinthenextmorning,gooutforbrunchandspendtheafternoonshoppingatSaks,mostlyfor
Ryan,tobehonest,whoneededafewnewsuits,thoughheverykindlybuysmesomefabulous
underwearandapairofpeachsilkpajamas(perhapsacommentontheancientYankeesT-shirtI
usuallyweartobed).Wereturntoourhotel,whereIcallmymomandtellherthenews.

“Oh,Chastity!”shecries.“Honey,that’swonderful!Wonderful!”Sheofferstoinvitetheboysand
theirfamiliesoverfordinnerthenextdaysoRyanandIcancomeandannounceourengagementlive
andinperson.

“Sure,”Isay.“Soundsgreat.”

Ryancallshisparents,too,andItalktoMrs.overthephone.“PleasecallmeLibby,”shesays.“AndI
canrecommendsomeverygooddesignersforyourdress,darling.”

Dr.getsonthephone,too.“Welcometothefamily,”hesaysheartily,andItrytoforgetthathe’sseen
menaked.

ThenRyantakesthephoneandfieldsquestionsaboutdatesandlocationsandthatkindofthing.Idrift
overtothewindowofourswankyroomandgazeoutattheEmpireStateBuilding.

Isthisreallyme,Iwonder?Itdoesn’tquitefeelreal.Idon’tbelonginahotellikethisone.Thering,
thoughitsitswellonmyfinger,lookslikeapropfromamovie.Thoughwe’vebeengonelessthan
twenty-fourhours,Imisshome.ImissButtercup.

“Ibettercallmydad,”IsaywhenRyanhangsupfromhisparents.Iglanceatmywatch.It’safterfive,

andDad’sonnightsthisweek,soheshouldbeatthefirehouse.WithTrevor,asusual.Idon’tthink
aboutthat.

“Well,actually,yourfatherknows,”Ryansmiles.“Iaskedforhispermission.”

“Oh,”Isay.“Well,thatwas…old-fashionedofyou.Butnice,Iguess.”

Idialmyfather ’scell.“Areyouhappy,Porkchop?”Dadasks.Inthebackground,Icanhearthe
cracklingoftheradio,afewvoices.

“Oh,yes,”Isay.“Definitely.”

“Trevor,guesswhat?Chastity’smarryingherdoctor,”Dadcalls.Iwaitforthestomachpain.None
comes.

“Bestwishes,Chas,”IhearTrevorsayafterthebriefestpause.

“Trevorsays‘bestwishes,’”Dadrelays.

“Thankyou,”Isaysteadily.

“Shesaysthanks,”Dadcallsagain.“So.Putmyfutureson-in-lawonthephone,willyou?”

DadandRyantalkaminute,Ryaneverrespectful,callingDad“sir”andthankinghimforhisblessing.
Finally,ourfamiliesalertedtoourimpendingnuptials,RyanandI—myfiancéandI—lookateach
other.

“So.Thatwentwell,”hesays.“Anyideasonwhereyou’dliketoeat?”

IrememberthelittleItalianrestaurantonThompsonStreet,whereTrevortoldmehewasmarrying
Hayden.Maybewecouldgothere,replacethatawfulmemorywiththishappyone.ButIsayno,no
ideas.Anywherehepickswillbefinewithme.

T

HEBOYSHUGME

,theStarahsexclaimoverthering,mylittleniecesaskiftheycanbeflowergirls.

“Ofcourse!”Isay.“Absolutely!Andboys,youcanbeinit,too,howeveryouwant.Aslongasyou
don’thitorbite,okay?”

“Thattakesallthefunoutofit,”Jackcomments.“Congratulations,Sis.”Heenvelopsmeinahug,
andmythroatgrowstight.

Elainaiswaitingforherchance.WhenIexcusemyselftogototheloo,shepounces,followingme
rightin.

“Lainey,Ireallydohavetopee,so—”

“Honey,areyousureaboutthis?”sheasks,sittingontheedgeofthetub,nibblingherfingernail.

Mybreathcatches.“Areyoukiddingme?Howcanyouaskmethat?”Myvoiceisbouncingoffthe
avocado-coloredtiles.“You’retheonewho’sbeentellingmewhatagreatthingthisis,”Igrowlina
quietervoice.“‘Don’tmessthisup,querida.GetoverTrevor,querida.’”

“Okay!Yes,soIsaidthat!”shesnaps.“Bigdeal,youknow?Chas,areyouhappy?”

“Yes!”Iinsist.“I—definitely!”Myjawclenches.“Elaina,”Isay,andmyvoiceisnowaharshwhisper.
“ThisisthebestI’mgoingtodo.He’sagoodguy.We’llbeverycontenttogether.Helovesme.Ilove
him.Okay?Pleasedon’tsayanythingelse.”

“Okay,”shesays.Shestartstosaysomething,thenpauses.

“What,Lainey?”Iask.Myheadiskillingme,andwehaven’thaddinner,andI’mstarvingandjust
wanttogohomeandcurlupwithButtercup.

“HaveyoutoldTrevor?”shewhispers.

“Heknows,”Isay,turningaway.Ipretendtofixmyhairinthemirror,butIcanseeElaina’sworried
eyesreflectedbackatme.

“Whatdidhesay?”sheasks.

“He’sallforit.”Iturnbacktolookdirectlyinherface.“ItoldhimIlovedhimandhesaidtostay
withRyan.”Myfacecontorts.

“Shit,”shesays.“Okay,okay,I’msorry,honey.It’sokay.”

“Willyoubemymaidofhonor?”Iweep.

“Ofcourse,”shesays,herbigdarkeyesfilling,aswell.

Aneternitylater,filledwiththegoodwillofmyfamilyandmymother ’sfreakishlygoodchicken
piccata,RyanandIdrivebackhome.Buttercupcomeslopingsloppilytowardme,andIgatherher
tightagainstme,buryingmyfaceagainsthercheek.“Imissedyou,MissUglyHead,”Isay.

“Aaaaroooroorooo!”shebayshappily.Rightbackatyou,iswhatshe’sreallysaying.

“Mycondodoesn’tallowdogs,”Ryansays,steppingbacktoavoidastringofdrool.“She’llhaveto
staywithyourbrother.”

Iglareathim.“Shestayswithme.Andwhosayswe’removingintoyourcondo?Huh?Ilovethis
house.Maybewe’restayinghere.”

AlittlesmilepullsatRyan’smouth.“Whywouldwestayherewhenwecouldliveatmycondo?This
placeiscute,Chastity,butit’snotwhereIplanonliving,”hesaysinadeliberatelycontemptuoustone,
andbeforetoomuchtimehaspassed,we’rehavingpost-argumentsexupstairsinmyroom.

WhenRyanissleeping,Igrabmyrobeandpulliton,intendingtogodownstairsforsomeOreosora
Pop-Tartortwo,maybethree.Butatthetopofthestairs,somethingcatchesmyeye.Turningin

disbelief,Ipushthebathroomdoorallthewayopen.

It’sdone.Mybathroomisfinished.Gleamingpedestalsink,thesmoothgraytilesofthefloor…the
tub!TheJacuzzitubisin,andnotonlythat,there’safernsittingononecorner.Andallmystuffis
unpacked.ThepalegreentowelshangfromtheracksthatIchosesolongago,thelittleantique
porcelainsoapdishsitsontheglassshelfabovethesink.Thepoundedsilverlightswitchcoverisin
place,theframedpictureofthetreeshroudedinmistishung.Thelightfixturesareup.

It’sdone.It’sbeautiful.

Icatchaglimpseofmyreflection.Mycheeksareflushed,andmymouthishangingopen.

Theboysdidn’tsayawordaboutthis.Theymust’vewantedtosurpriseme.Ican’tbelieveit.

IhearthedoorbeingopenedandarepetitiveclackingnoiseasButtercup’stailbeginswhippingsome
poorpieceoffurnituredownstairs.“Hey,gorgeous,”Matt’svoicesaystoher.

IglanceinatRyan,whoisstillasleep,picturesquelysprawledonhisback.Ipauseasecond,looking
athisAdonisperfection,thenclosethedoorandgodownstairs.“Matt,”Isay,myvoicethickwith
emotion,“thankyouforfinishingthebathroom.It’sbeautiful!”

“Oh,yeah?Youlikeit?Cool.”Heopensthefridge,takesoutabeer,offersittome.Ishakemyhead.
“Actually,Iwasn’ttheonewhodidit,soIcan’ttakeanycredit.”

“Oh.Luckythen?”

“Trevor,actually.JustcameinhereFridaymorningandgottowork.Didn’ttakethatlong,oncehe
gotgoing.Itlooksgreatdoesn’tit?”

“Yup,”Ibreathe,sittinginakitchenchair.“It’sgreat.”

“So.Isthedochere?”Mattasks.

“Yes.He’sstayingover,ifthat’sokay.”

Mattpullsaface.“Sure.”Hegrins.“Justdon’tmakeanyunnecessarynoise,okay?You’restillmy
littlesister,evenifyouareoldenoughtobeengaged.”

“Ha,”Iattempt.“Right.”

“Nicechunkofjewelryhegotyou,”Mattsays,swiggingsomeofhisAdirondackpaleale.

“Thanks.Youknowwhat?IthinkI’llhaveabeerafterall,”Isay.WeendupplayingScrabbleuntil
midnight,Buttercup’sheadinmylap,Ryansleepingundisturbedupstairs.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-THREE

R

YANWAKESATFIVETHENEXT

morning.“Whatisonme?”hemutters,squintingatthebottomofthe

bed.

“Thatwouldbeourlittlegirl,”Isay,pullingmyownlegfree.Buttercupsighsandmoans.

“Chastity,thisbedisnotbigenoughforthethreeofus,”Ryansays.“She’savery,um,pleasantdog,
butshecan’tsleepherewhenI’mstayingover.”

“Thisisherbed,Ryan.YousleephereonlybythegraceofButtercup,”Ismile.Hedoesn’tsmileback.
“Notamorningperson,Isee.”

Hefinallygrinsandsitsup,kissesmeontheshoulder.“Ishouldrunbacktomyplace.Ineedto
showerandcheckmymessages.”

Fiveminuteslater,theMercedes—ourMercedes,dareIcallit?—haspulledawayfrommylittle
house.BecauseI’mwideawake,Igointomynewbathroomandtakeashower.It’sglorious.Thefan
works,theshowerheadgusheswaterbeautifully,mysoap,chosensolongago,smellslikeheaven.
Thankyou,Trevor.

Butno.Ican’tbethinkingabouthim,andhey,whyshouldI?I’mengaged.Hetoldmetostaywith
Ryan,andIam.Ifhefeelsguiltyaboutshaggingme,heshould.Ifitgotmybathroomfinished,well,
bullyforme.

Idrymyhair,dressanddecidetogotoDad’s.Sincehewasworkinglastnight,heshouldjustbe
gettinghome.Istopatthebakeryandgetussomepastries,thenheadtohishouse.Idon’teventurn
myheadwhenIwalkbyTrevor ’s.

“Here’smybabygirl,”Dadsays,huggingmehard.Whenheletsmego,hetakesmyhandand
inspectsthering.“Veryexpensive,”hesays,wipinghiseyes.

“Oh,Daddy.”

“Ican’tbelieveyou’regettingmarried,”hesaysthickly.“Atleastyoubroughtpastries.Comeon,I’ll
putonsomecoffee.”

Dad’sapartmentlooksalittlebetterthanthelasttimeIwashere.Theboxesaregoneandhe’sgot
somecurtainsup.Afewminuteslater,we’reeatingamiably,drinkingfrommatchingcoffeemugs.
“Youhappy,Porkchop?”Dadasks.

I’mgettingalittletiredofeveryoneaskingmethat.Isn’titobvious?“Yes,Dad.Veryhappy.”

“Heseemslikeagoodguy.”Inod.“Andit’sgoodtohaveadoctorinthefamily,Iguess.”

“Jackwouldsayit’sbettertohaveaparamedic,”Ismile.

Dadlaughsautomatically.“Yes.Well.”Heswallows.“Didyourmothertellyoushe’ssetadate?”he

asks,notmeetingmyeyes.

“Yes.”Iputdownmychocolatecroissant.Mom’sweddingisloominglarge,thoughRyanhad
providedanicedistraction.Threeweeks,forGod’ssake.“Whatareyougoingtodo,Dad?”

Myfathertakesalongsipofcoffee.“Nothing,Chastity.”

“You’renotgoingtoeventry?Whataboutretiring?Maybeifshesawthatyouwerereallyout,she’d
takeyouback.”

Dadsighs.“She’sgoingthroughwiththis,honey.It’snot…I’mtoolate.”

“Shetoldmeyouweretheloveofherlife.”Mythroatistight.Theparallelsbetweenmymotherand
mearecertainlynotlost.Bothofusmarryingsomeonewhoisnottheloveofourlives.Crap.Iseem
tobecrying.

“BeingafiremaniswhoIam,”Dadsaysquietly.“Iwon’tgivethatup,notuntilIcan’tdothejob
anymore.I’llalwaysloveyourmother,honey.Andwehaveyoufivewonderfulkids,andGodknows
howmanygrandkids,right?We’veagreedtobeverycivilaboutthis.I’mhappyforher.”

“Liar,”Isaywetly.

Hesmilessadly.“Yeah,wellit’smyownfault.”Heclearshisthroat.“Butthat’syesterday’snews.Tell
meabouthowyourmanpoppedthequestion.”

Itell,Dadapproves,wemanageafewlaughs.Finally,Iglanceatmywatch.“Ihavetogotowork,
Dad,”Isay.“Willyoubeokay?”

“Sure,”hesays.“Ofcourse.Offyougo.Outwithyou.Shoo.”

Iheadintowork,wheremuchfussismadeovermyTiffanyengagementring.“‘Embracethepower
oftheRing,orembraceyourowndestruction,’”IsaytoAngela,wholaughsmerrily.“Hey,Ange,”I
saytoherwhentheothershavedriftedaway.“Mattwastalkingaboutyoulastnight.”

Herfacelightsup.“He’sfantastic,Chastity,”shesaysbreathlessly.“I’m…well,I’mheadoverheels.I
can’tstopthinkingabouthim.”

“Itseemsmutual,”Imurmur.

“Well,youknowwhatit’slikewhenyou’vemetthatperfectmatch,”shesighs.

“Yes.Yes,Ido.”AndIpictureRyan.NotJeter,notAragorn,andcertainlynotTrevor.

M

YMOTHERCALLS

thatafternoon,andIagreetobemaidofhonor,nomatterhowawfulitfeels.“Just

don’tmakemewearoneofthosehideousdresses,Mom,”Isay.

“Wearwhateveryouwant,sweetheart,”sheanswersblithely.“WearaYankeesuniform.Wearyour

brother ’sturnoutgear.Idon’tcare.I’mgettingmarried,we’regoingtoNorwayforourhoneymoon
—”

“Norway!”

“—andwe’regoingtohavealotoffun.AndsoareyouandRyan.Aren’tyou?Whereareyougoing
onyourhoneymoon?”

“Wehaven’teventalkedaboutit,Mom.We’renotattheplanningstagejustyet.”

“Don’tdawdle,”sheadvises.“Beingmarriediswonderful.”

“Notbyyouraccount,”Imutter.

“Iheardthat.”

“So?”

“Sosaywhatyoumean,younglady.”Hervoiceisthorny.

“Soareyousureyouwanttomarrysomeoneyoudon’tloveasmuchasyouloveDad?”Iask,justas
thornily.

“Areyousureyouwanttomarrysomeoneyoudon’tloveasmuchasyouloveTrevor?”

It’slikeapunchinthethroat.“Mom!”

“Sorry,sorry,”shebackpedals.“I’mtryingtomakeapoint.Thatthemanwho’sthemostsuitable
husbandmightnotbetheonewhomakesyourtoescurlinbed,allright?”

Myfaceblanches.“Let’schangethesubject,”Imutter.

“Butthereareotherqualitiesthatmakealifepartnershipwork.Ryanhasthem.SodoesHarry.Sowhy
don’tyoubackoff,okay,honey?”

“Wow.You’re…ouch.Ithinkyou’ve…yes,I’mactuallybleedinghere.”

“Loveyou!”shecalls.“Pleasedon’twearbluetothewedding.”

“Yousaidyoudidn’tcarewhatIwore.”

“Iwaslying.Thinkpink.Bye,honey.”

T

HENEXTWEEKPASSES

moreorlessnormally.Mrs.Darling—Libby—e-mailsmedailywithnewsof

bridalfairsinNewYorkCity—wouldchampagnebeallrightforherdresscolor?—asksmehow
manypeopleI’menvisioningformyhalfoftheguestlist,informsmethatherpreliminary
calculationshaveanumberaroundtwohundredandseventy-threefortheirside,ofcourseRyan’s

sister(thefamousWendyDarling)wouldliketobeabridesmaid,wouldthatbeallright?Ie-mail
back,tellingherthateverythingsoundsfinewithme,thatweddingplanningisnotmything,andI’d
behappytoturnitovertoher.

RyanandIgooutfordinnerwithtwoothercouplesonenight.Bothhusbandsaresurgeons,both
wivesareveryfit,verypolished,verypleasant.

“Arethereanywomensurgeonsatthehospital?”Iaskasthemendiscusswho’swho.

“Ofcourse,”Ryansays.“Dr.Thrift,Dr.EscobarandDr.Adams.”

Theothermennodsilently.Thewivessmile.Ortheydon’tstopsmiling,havingbeenBotoxedinto
perma-smile.

“I’dlovetomeetthem,too,”Isay.

“Ofcourse,”Ryananswers.“Allingoodtime.”

“Doyouwork,Susan?”Iaskoneofthewives.

“Oh,no,”shesaysaroundherteeth.“I’masahm.”

“Awhat?”Iask.

“Asahm.S-A-H-M.Stay-at-homemom.”

“Lovely,”Isay.“Twoofmysisters-in-lawarealso,uh,sahms.Andyou,Liza?”

“Thesame!Sahm!”shecroons.Theyregalemewithreportsoftheirchildren’sactivities:karate,
violin,piano,basketball,baseball,lacrosse,soccer,voicelessons,Frenchclub,chessclub,drama
club.Ivowtomakesuremykidshavetimetojustplay,thewayIdid.Iplayedandreadandwandered
theneighborhoodwithmybrothers.AndTrevor.

SpeakingofTrevor,hee-mailedmefourdaysago.DearChastity,Ihopeyou’redoingwell.Just
wantedtosaycongratulationsagain.HopetoseeyouaroundEmo’sonedaysoon.—Trevor

Ihaven’twrittenbackbecauseIjustdon’tknowwhattosay.AndIhaven’tseenhimaroundEmo’s
becauseIhaven’tgonetoEmo’s.I’mavoidinghim.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-FOUR

S

EVERALDAYSLATER

,I’mforcedtocoverabudgetmeetingofthecitycouncil.Ifthere’sacurefor

insomnia,I’vefoundit.

Inordernottofallasleepandpossiblydroolonmyshirt,Isitinthefrontrowonapunishingmetal
chairandtakenotes,silentlycursingSuki,whousuallycoversthesethings,whilemakingamental
notetobuysomechocolateforher,sincesheusuallyhastocoverthesethings.Theendless
constructionprojecthasgoneoverbudget.Again.Theschoolboardisaskingformoremoney.
Again.Theseniorcitizencouncilwants…shocker…moremoney.Again.Towncrew…moremoney.I
pinchmyselftokeepfromdozingoff.

Afterseveralmonthshavepassed—okay,okay,itwasjustseveralhours—Iamfinallyreleasedfrom
thehellofthebudgetmeetingandfindmyselfblinkinginthebrightlightofaglorioussummer
afternoon.TheleavesofthetreesthatlineMainStreetarelushandgreenandjustaboutedible.The
airissparklingcleananddry,theskyshimmerswithabluesopureitmakesyourheartachewithjoy.
Birdsongfightswiththenoiseofrush-hourtrafficascommuterstrytodisentanglethemselvesfrom
theclosed-offstreetsandcrossthebridgeovertoJurgenskill.TheHudsonrunsclearanddeepalong
RiverRoad.Ican’twaittogethomeandgoforarow.

Suddenly,there’sascreechofbrakesandhorriblebang.AcarhascrashedintooneoftheJersey
barriersalongtheedgeoftheconstructionsite.AsIwatchinhorror,anothercarsmashesintothe
first.Theblareofhornspiercestheair.

Racingdownthestreet,I’mnotquiteawarethatI’vecalled911untilIhearthedispatcher ’svoice.
“Two-carMVAatthecornerofRiverandLangdonstreets,”Isay,leapingoverabundleof
newspaperssomeoneleftonthesidewalk.“Carversusbarrier,thengotrear-ended.Mightbe
injuries.”

“I’mdispatchingthefiredepartmentrightnow,”theoperatorsays.

IshovemyphoneinmypocketasIreachtheintersection.Trafficisstoppednow,peoplearegetting
outoftheircarstolook.Thedriverofthesecondcar,whichrear-endedthefirst,getsout.Already,
hiscellphoneispressedtohisear.

Noonehasgottenoutofthefirstcar.

Shatteredbitsofglassareeverywhere.Thefirstcarlookslikeasodacanthat’sbeencrushed.The
driver,awoman,isunconscious.Iwalkuptothecardoor.

“Ma’am?”Isay,myvoiceshaking.There’sbloodonherface,comingfromherhead.“Ma’am?Can
youhearme?”Sheliftsherheadandblinks.

“Trynottomove,”Isay.“You’vebeeninanaccident.Um,um,I’manEMT.Myname’sChastity.”
Thebackdoorofthecarisdented,butIgiveitagoodtuganditopens.“I’mjustgoingtoholdyour
headstill,okay?”

“Whathappened?”sheasksgroggily.

“Youhitthebarrier,”Isay.“Canyoutellmeyourname?”

“Mary,”sheanswers.“MaryDillon.”

Blood,warmandsticky,isdrippingontomyhandsasIholdherheadsothatshe’sfacingforward.
Mymouthisasdryassandandmylegsaretrembling.“Doyouhaveanypain,Mary?”

“Alittle,”shesays.“Myheadstings.”

“Howaboutyourstomach?Anypainortenderness?”

“No.Myshoulderkindofhurts.Theleftone.”

“Okay,”Isay.“That’sprobablyfromtheseatbelt.Howaboutyourneck?”

“Um,alittle.”Shetriestolookaround,butIkeepherheadstill.

“Don’tmoveyourneck,okay,Mary?Juststaylookingstraightahead.”Myvoicesoundsmore
normal.Thebloodtrickleseemstohaveslowed,butIcan’trisktakingagoodlook.“Theambulance
isonitsway,okay?Helpiscoming.”Ithinkforasecond.“Doyouknowwhatdayitis?”

“Uh,Thursday.Julyeleventh?”

“Great.Howoldareyou?”

“Thirty-five,”shetellsme.“AmIinbadshape?”sheasks,fearthickinhervoice.“Issomething
wrongwithmyneck?”

“You’vebeeninanaccident,sowealwayschecktheneckandback.Butyouseemprettygoodtome,”
Itellher.“Thefiredepartmentisonitsway.They’lltakegoodcareofyou.”

Acrowdhasformedaroundus.Aman,thedriverofthesecondcar,peersinthewindow.“CanI
help?”heasks.

“Arethereanydoctorsorparamedicsaround?”Iaskhim.

“I’llcheck,”hesays,backingaway.Ihearhimaskingthecrowd.Noonestepsforward.

ItrytorememberwhatelseIshoulddo.God!Thereseemstobesomuch!“Mary,doyouremember
whathappened?Didyoublackout?”

“Oh,shit,”shesays.“Iwasreachingformycellphone.Stupid.”

“Gotcha.Um,howaboutanymedications?”

“Justvitamins.”

“Anymedicalhistory?Highbloodpressure,fainting,anythinglikethat?Diabetes?”

“No,”shesays.“Nothing.”

“Anychanceyoucouldbepregnant?”

“Notunlessit’simmaculateconception,”shesays.Icanseeasmileintherearviewmirror.

“Well,yournameisMary,”Isay,smilingback.

Icanseethefiretruckupahead,andtheEFFDambulance,lightsflashing.Unfortunately,thetraffic
snarlandtheconstructionaremakingithardforthemtogethere.Myarmsarestartingtoshakefrom
notmovingthem…andfromfear,too,heck.

“You’reanEMT?”Maryasks.

“Yup,”Ianswer.

“Luckyforme.”

Thesirensareloudernow.“How’sthepain?”Iask.

“Notthatbad.Mostlymyheadandshoulder.AmIokay?”

“Nothingelse?”

“No.”Shesighs.“Ijustboughtthiscar.”

Ismile.“Atleastyouseemtobeokay.”

Atlast,afiretruckandthedepartment’sambulancearriveonthescene.Theguysswarmoffthetruck
likeefficient,gear-cladbees.Oneleansdowntome.It’sTrevor.Forsomereason,Iknewitwouldbe.
Wehaven’tseeneachothersincethebignight,sincewefought.

“Hey,Chastity,”hesays,soundingmildlysurprised.“What’vewegot?”

“Hey,Trev.Um,well,thisisMary,agethirty-five.Shewasreachingforhercellphone,right,Mary?
Andthenshehitthebarrier,thenbam!Shegothitfrombehind.”Trevornods,andmyvoicepicksup
speedandconfidence.“Iwitnessedtheaccident.She’sgotalacerationonherhead,someshoulderand
neckpain,soI’vebeenholdingtheC-spine.Sherememberswhathappened,isalertandoriented.
PositiveLOCforlessthanaminute.”

Trevornods.“Hi,there,”hesaystoMary.“I’mTrevor.I’mafirefighterandaparamedic.We’re
goingtogetyououtofthereandtakeyoutothehospitaltogetcheckedout.Soundgood?”

“Okay,”Marysays.“Canshestaywithme?”

Trevorglancesatme,smiling.“Youbet.”Helencomesover,talkstoTrevforasecond,goesbackto
thetruck.Istayinthebackofthecar,holdingMary’shead,myheartstillthumping.

Santoapproacheswithacervicalcollarandgetsinthebackwithme.“Holdhersteady,Chas…good

girl.”Hesnapsthecollarintoplace.“We’reallset,Chas,”hesays.“Youcangetoutnow.”

“Goodluck,Mary,”Isay,pattinghershouldergingerly.

“Thankyousomuch,”shesays,reachinguptogripmyhand.

MylegsstillwobblewhenIgetout.ItakeafewstepsawayfromthecarandwatchEatonFalls’s
bravestdotheirwork.Trevseemstoberunningthescene—Iguessmyfatherisbackatthefirehouse,
notonthisdetail.Trevortalksintotheradio,thengoestotheambulanceandopensthebackdoors.He
andPaultakeoutthestretcher.SantochecksMary’sabdomenandshoulder,andtheyslipavestover
hertofurtherstabilizeherspine.JakehastheHursttoolandstartscuttingthroughherdoor,whichis
apparentlystuckshut.

WhenJakeisthrough,TrevormovesinandguidesMaryontothebackboard.Hesayssomethingto
herandtakesherhand,hisfacesowarmandreassuringthatIknowshe’llfeelbetterjustbecausehe’s
there.ThenheandPaullifthercarefullyandloadherontothestretcher,strappingherin.He’stalking
toherthewholetime,smilingather,doingwhathedoessowell.

Ilovehim.I’llalwayslovehimandIrealizeI’dratherbealonethanwithsomeonewho’snothim.No
matterwhatTrevorsays,nomatterwhohe’swith,nooneelsewilldo.Myheartissorawand
unguardedatthatmoment,thetruthissounbearablystark,thatmykneesbuckle,andIhavetosit
downonthecurb.

TrevorbendsdowntolistentoMary,thenlooksup.Hiseyesfindmine.HegesturestoMary,andher
handliftsupinawave.Thenshe’sloadedintotheambulance,andPaulclimbsinwithher.Jakegetsin
thedriver ’sseat,andasecondlater,thelightsareflashing,thesirenisblippingandofftheygo.

Trevorcomesoverandkneelsinfrontofme.“Areyouallright,Chastity?”hesays,hisvoice
scrapingmyswollenheart.Hetakesmyhandandputshisfingersonmywrist,checkingmypulse.

“I’mfine,”Isay,notlookingathim.I’mstillshaking.Trevorpeersintomyface,hisbeautifuleyes
worried.“I’mnotgoingtofaint,”Iassurehim,glancingatthosechocolatepoolsforjustasecond.I
manageasmile,andhesqueezesmyhand.

“Youdidit,Chas,”hesmiles.“YoulookedlikeatrueO’Neilloutthere.”

“Thanks,”Iwhisper,mychesttight.

“Areyousureyou’reokay?”heasks,lettinggoofmyhand.

“Yes,”Isayinamorenormalvoice.“Itwasjustalittle…overwhelming.”

Henods,thenglancesattheengine.Santoistalkingtoalittlekid,hereyesstarryinthatclassic“I
lovefirefighters”look.Helenclimbsintotheengine.Trevorlooksbackatme.“That’sabeautiful
ringyou’vegotthere,”hesaysquietly.

Despitemythuddingheart,Ikeepmyvoicelight.“Thanks.Ryanhasgreattaste.”

“Inmorethanjustrings.”Hisgazedropstothepavement.“Ishouldgo.”

“Okay,”Isaynumbly.“Thankyou,Trevor.”

Thelightcatchesthereflectivelettersonthebackofhisgearashewalksaway.Hishairrufflesinthe
breezeofftheriver,buttherestofhimlooksheavyandtired.Santoclimbsintothedriver ’sseat,
givesthehornalittleblastandwavesatme.Iwavebackandwatchthemleave.

Thepolicearestillmillingaround,talkingtothedriverofthesecondcar.Theyaskmeafew
questions.Atowtruckcomes.WhenI’mfinallyallowedtogo,IcalltheofficeandtellPenIwon’tbe
backtoday.ThenIgohome,changeintoshortsandatanktoptorowin.WhileI’matit,Islidemy
engagementringoffmyfingerandputitcarefullyinmyjewelrybox.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-FIVE

R

OWINGISAGREATWAY

toemptythemind.There’snothingbuttheswishofmyoarsandtherippling

fromthebowasIcutupriver.Featherandsquare,catchanddrive,featherandsquare.Thebreeze
driesthesweatonmyback,thesunbeatshotonmylegs.Icanhearthelaughterofkidsfromthepark.
AgoldenretrievercatchesaFrisbee.ThenI’mpasttheparkandtherearenopeopletolookat
anymore,justthetreesandtheAdirondacksrisingallaroundme,greenandmajestic,assolidasa
castlewall.

Trevor ’swordsechoinmyhead.Youdidit,Chas.YoulookedlikeatrueO’Neilloutthere.

He’sright.Ihelped.Ididn’tsavesomeone’slifeoranything,didn’tpushthemfromharm’sway,
didn’trunintoaburningbuilding,butIhelpedsomeoneinatimeofneed.Funny,afteralltheseyears
ofwantingsomuchtojointheclub,ofwonderingwhatitwouldbeliketobetheonewhohadthe
knowledgeortheskillortheguts,thefeelingisoddlyhollow.Sure,I’mgladIwasthereforMary,
butasfarasmyownegoandself-imagego,well,whoreallycares?

WhenIgethome,Buttercupislyingasifdeadonthelawn.

“Comehere,girl,”Icall.Sheraiseshermassiveheadandobeys,lumberingovertome,tail
whipping,thenflopsatmyfeet.Istrokeherearsandplantakissonherbonyhead.“Youlikeitbeing
justusgirls,don’tyou,honey?”Iask.Hertailwhipsbackandforth.“Me,too.”

Thatnight,aroundeighto’clock,MattandAngelaarecuddleduponthecouchwatchingThe
FellowshipoftheRing.Icomedownstairs,freshlyshowered,andwatchasArwensummonstheriver
spiritstosweepawaytheRingWraithsandsaveslittleFrodo’slife.

“Sherocks,”Imurmur.

“Yousaidit,sister,”Angelaagrees.

“Yougoingout,Chas?”Mattasks,glancingbackatme.

“Yup.I’mgoingovertoRyan’s.”Ipauseacasualbeatortwo.“Hey,doyouknowifTrevisworking
tonight?”

“Idon’tthinkso.Hewasontoday,”Mattsays,nottakinghiseyesoffthescreen.

“Yeah,right.Ijustdidn’tknowiftherewasovertimeorwhatever,sinceHoser ’sstill…”Toomuch,
Chastity.“Okay,guys.Seeyouaround.”

“Bye,Chastity,”Angelacalls,smiling.Mattlooksatherandtouchesherhairwithsmittenadoration.
Sheblushesandreturnshisgazewithequalsappiness.Igivethemfiveminutesbeforethey’re
unclothedandgoingatitlikeferrets.

“Younglove,”Isigh.Theydon’tevenhearme.

IdrivetoTrevor ’ssothatIwon’thavetimetochickenout.“It’sChastity,”Isay,whenheanswershis

buzzer.“Gotasec?”

“Sure.”Hebuzzesmein.

Ileapupthestairs.WhenIburstthroughthehallwaydoor,Trevor ’swaitinginthedoorwayforme,
unbearablyappealinginjeansandaplainwhiteT-shirt.Thesmellofgarlicwaftsoutofhisapartment.
“Hey,”hesays.

“Hi,”Isay,feelingmyfacegrowhot,andnotbecauseIjustranupfourflights.Helooksalittle
nervous,andhell,whocanblamehim?“I’mnotheretomaulyou,”Iblurt.

Hegivesalittlelaugh,thenstepsintothehallwayandclosesthedoorbehindhim.“What’sup,
Chastity?”

“Here,”Ianswer,thrustingapieceofpaperathim.“It’sjusteasierlikethis.”

It’sanote.IhadtowriteonebecauseIdidn’tthinkIcouldsayallIneededtowithoutcrying.Trevor
takesitcarefully.“Readit,”Iorder.

Hiseyebrowraisesquestioningly,butheunfoldsthepaperandreadssilently.Ialreadyhaveit
memorized.Thedangthingtookmefivedrafts.

DearTrevor,

Iwanttoapologizeforcomingoverthatnightacoupleofweeksago.Iwasupsetand
emotional,andthrowingmyselfatyouthewayIdidwasill-advisedatbestand
breathtakinglystupidatworst.IsaidthingsthatIdeeplyregretnow.Trev,youwill
always,alwaysbemyfriendandpartofmyfamily.Youhaveaspecialplaceinmyheart
andyoualwayswill.I’msorryIputyouonthespotthewayIdid.Ihopeyou’llforgive
me.

—Chastity

Hereadsitacoupleoftimesbeforelookingupatmeagain,hiseyesdarkandserious.“Chastity…”

Atthatmoment,Trevor ’sdooropensandablondheadsticksout.“Hey,Chastity!”

“Hi,Hayden,”Imurmur.I’mnotreallysurprised.

“Whatareyouguysdoinginthehall?Comeonin!”Herperfectsmiledoesn’treachhereyes.

“I’mactuallyonmywayout,”Isay,glancingatTrevor.“Ijusthadto,um,dropsomethingoff.”

“Oh,”shesays,herfakesmiledroppinganotch.“Well,takecare!Trev,honey,Ithinkthoseveggies
arejustabouttoburn,andyouknowhowIaminthekitchen.”Shedoesn’tmovefromthedoorway.

“Okay,well,Ishouldbeonmyway,”Isay,takingastepdownthehall.“Trev,you…Iguessthat’sit.
Takecare.Enjoyyourdinner.”

“I’lltalktoyousoon,Chastity,”hesays.Helooksbackatmynote,foldsitcarefullyandputsitinhis
jeanspocket.

“Hon?Thesquash?”PerfectHaydengivesTrevor ’sarmatug.

I’mdownthehallandintothestairwellinrecordtime.Abouthalfwaydownthestairs,Istopandsit.I
stillhavealottodotonight,andIneedaclearhead.

“Chastity?”

Myheadjerksup.“Hayden.”

Sheglidesdownthestairsandstandsaboveme.Well.Ican’thavethat,soIgetupandtoweroverher.
Sometimesbeingaquarterinchshyofsixfeethasitsbenefits,andthismomentisdefinitelyoneof
them.

Tohercredit,Haydenisnotcowed.Sheputshermanicuredhandsonherhipsandstaresatme.“It’s
timetolethimgo,Chastity.”

Ouch.“Trevor?”

“Ofcourse,Trevor.Stopguilt-trippinghimallthetime.”

“Excuseme?”

“YouknowexactlywhatI’mtalkingabout.Youdriftinginandoutofhislife,remindinghimofthe
onetimeyouweretogether,waybackincollege.”Iseehetoldheraboutthat.Crap.“You’restill
mooningafterhim,andit’sreallygettingpathetic.”

Twotimes,Hayden.Weweretogethertwotimes.Guesshedidn’ttellyouabouttimenumerodos.
Aloud,Idon’tsayanything,justlookdownuponHayden(literallyandfiguratively).

“Well?”sheasks,swishingherlongblondhairbackoverhershoulder.

“I’mnotguilt-trippinganyone,Hayden.TrevorandIareconnected,whetheryoulikeitornot.”I
raiseaneyebrow.

“Helovesme,youknow.”

“Sure.”

“We’reprobablygoingtogetmarried.”

“Sure.”

“Sojustbackoff.”

“Sure.”

It’sanoldO’Neillsiblingtrick—toincitethemostrage,simplyagreeendlessly.Itworksyetagain.

Hayden’sfacegrowsblotchy,butherchingoesup.“Ifhereallywantedyou,”shehisses,“don’tyou
thinkhewouldhavedonesomethingaboutitbynow?Doyouthinkhe’dbewithme?Where’syour
pride,Chastity?”

Withthat,shespinsonhertinylittleheelandflouncesbackupthestairs,backtoTrevor.

W

HEN

I

GETTO

R

YAN’SPLACE

,he’swatchingCNN.“Chastity!Wedidn’thaveplans,didwe?”heasks.

“No,”Isay.“Ryan…Ineedtotellyousomething.”

HeclicksoffhisplasmascreenTV,AndersonCooper ’sfacedisappearinginablink.Heleansinto
kissme,thenstops.“Whatisit,honey?”heasks,hisvoicegentle.

Ican’tanswer.Mythroathurtsandmymouthisdryandtearsspurtintomyeyes.

Ryanstudiesmyface.“Isee,”hemurmurs.

Mytearsspillover.“I’msorry,”Iwhisper.“I’msorry.”

Heleadsmetothecouchandpassesmeaboxoftissues.Thesceneissoreminiscentofthenightat
Trevor ’s,butI’minnomoodforirony.“You’rebreakingitoff?”heasks.

Myraggedinhaleanswersforme.

Ryansitsnexttome,sighing,thenscrubshishandthroughhisMcDreamyhair.“Well,whatthehell
happened?”

“Nothing,notanythinginparticular.Ryan,Ithinkyou’reawonderfulman,”Iblubber.“Youhaveso
manynicequalities.AndIdocareaboutyou.You’reverythoughtfuland—”

“Please,Chastity,”hesaysdryly.“Idon’tneedyoutobolstermyego.”

“Okay.Sorry,”Isay,myfacescrunchingwithtears.Idiginmypocketandhandhimbackthering.He
looksatit,frowning.

“Ithoughtthingsweregoingsowell,”hesays.Helooksirked,andconfused.

“Theywere.Nothingwentwrong,nothingreallyhappened,Ryan,it’sjust…”Myvoicetrailsoff.
WhatamIsupposedtosayhere?There’snogoodanswer.

“It’sTrevor,isn’tit?”Ryanasks.

Ibowmyhead.Harvard/Yaletaughtthemanmorethanhowtocutintopeople,Iguess.“Yes,”I
whisper.

Ryanswallows.“Ihopehe…Ihopehe’sgoodtoyou,”hesaysmagnanimously.Hegiveshisheada
littleshake.

“We’renottogether,”Isay,fiddlingwiththehemofmyshorts.

Ryan’sgazesnapsbacktome.“Thenwhyareyoubreakingupwithme?”

Iswallow.“Because,Ryan,Ithinkyoudeservesomeonewholovesyouwithherwholeheart.”

“Well,that’sanoblesentiment,ifabitsappy,”hereplies.“Areyousure,Chastity?Ithinkwe’rereally
well-suitedforeachother.”

Ishiftonthecouchtofacehimmoredirectly.“Ryan,”Isaysoftly,“I’minlovewithanotherman.I
careaboutyou,andIlikespendingtimewithyou…butnotlike…It’sjustnotenough.”

“It’senoughforme,”hesayssoftly,andIcanseethatit’strue.

“Notforme,”Iwhisper,thetearsdrippingoffmycheeks.“I’msorry.Ihopeyoufindwhatyou’re
lookingfor.”

Hepauses.“I’llmissyou,Chastity.You’realotoffun.”Foraminute,Ithinkhemightgetmushy,but
no.“Well.Goodluck.”

“Sametoyou,”Isay,andwiththat,myengagementisofficiallyoveranddonewith.

Whatnext,Ihavenoidea.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-SIX

W

ORKISINCREDIBLYBUSY

thenextday,mercifully,soIdon’thavetimetothinkaboutRyanor

TrevororPerfectHayden.Instead,I’mimmersedinediting,assigningstories,talkingtoAlanabout
variousandsundryissues,runningthingsbyPen.Luciagivesmeherpieceforthemonth—seventeen
columninchesonmakingawreathforyourfrontdoor.“Looksfantastic,Lu,”Isay,flyingpastherin
ordertoavoiddiscussingit.Suddenly,Ilurchtoastopandtakeacloserlookather.

“Lucia,”Iaskhesitantly,“howareyoudoingaboutTeddyBearandallthat?”

“Fine!”shesnaps.“I’mfine,okay?”

“Areyoureadytostartdatingagain,doyouthink?”

Shehesitates,herfrownevaporating.“Why?”

“Letmeputitthisway.Doyouwanttohavekids?”

“Two,”shewhispersback,catchingmydrift.“Aboyandagirl.Hopefullyinthatorder.”

Holycrap.Ismile.“MindifIfixyouupwithasurgeon?”

Becauselet’sfaceit.Ididn’texactlybreakRyanDarling’sheart.IhaveafeelingthatLuciaandRyan
meetingcouldbethebeginningofabeautifulfriendship.

IdecidenottotellanyoneinmyfamilyaboutbreakingitoffwithRyanuntilafterMom’swedding.In
truth,I’mlyinglow.IfMattsuspectssomething,he’skeepinghismouthshut.Orhejustdoesn’t
notice,toowrappedupinAngelaandplanninghiscollegecoursestonoticehissister ’slovelife(or
lackthereof).Icoverbygoingoutwiththegangfromworkacoupleoftimes,switchingErnesto’s
rowinglessonstotheevening,seeingacoupleofmoviesbymyself,withonlyasiloofpopcornfor
company.Itakemydadouttodinner,butwegouptoLakeChamplainsoIdon’thavetoruninto
anyonefromtown.

Oddlyenough,nowthatI’msingleonceagainwithnoprospectsforhusbandinsight,Ifeelmore
relaxed.Happier,even,forsomereason.IguessI’vefoundthatI’dratherbealonethanwiththe
wrongperson.Eveniftherightpersoniswithsomeoneelse.

IavoidEmo’s.Iavoidthefirehouse.Ireallydon’twanttoseeTrevorjustyet.

Iaskmymotherifshe’dlikemetostaywithherthelastfewdaysbeforethebigday.

“Oh,honey,thatwouldbegreat.”Shesmiles.“I’vehardlyseenyou!Yes,byallmeans.”

Andso,twonightsbeforeherwedding,sheandIaresittinginthelivingroomofmychildhood,
drinkingcheappinotgrigioandhavingaratherwonderfultime.Buttercupisasleeponmyoldbed;
evenfromdownthehall,wecanhearhersnoring.

“Youreallylovethatdog,don’tyou?”Momasks.

“Someonehasto,”Ianswer.Istudythelivingroomwalls…therearedozensofpicturesofus,the
O’Neillkidsandgrandkids,frontteethmissing,christenings,firstcommunions,graduations,
baseball,basketball,crew,hiking,skiing,camping,actionshotsorderedfromthepaper,Mattandthe
littleoldcouplehehelpedrescuefromahousefire.JackgettingtheMedalofHonor.Luckyandhis
fellowbombsquaddieswhentheydefusedahomemadeandverypowerfulbombfromahighschool.
Markandthekitty-catmontage.

AndDad.He’severywhere,smiling,blueeyesgleaming,abundantlyhappyineverysinglepicture.

“Where’syourweddingpicture?”Iask,notingablankspotonthewall.

Momsighs.“Inthecloset.”

Iswallow.“CanIhaveit?”Iaskquietly.

“Ofcourse.”Shesaysnomore,justtakesanothersipofherwine.

“Mom?”Iventure.

“Notanotherlecture,honey,”shesays,gazingoutthewindowatthedarkstreet.

“No,no.”Ipause.“RyanandIcalleditoff,Mom.”

Hereyesflickbacktome,unsurprised.“Ithoughtso.Youhaven’tmentionedhimfordays.Why,
honey?”

“Well,Ijust…wedidn’t…Trevor.That’swhy.”

Shesetsherwineglassonthetablenexttoherchair.“Whatdidhedo?”shesays,anominoushintof
HolyRomanInquisitorinhervoice.

“Notathing,”Ilie.Myeyesfill,however,andMomdoesn’tmissit.“Ijustlovehim,Mom.Evenifhe
doesn’tquitefeelthesameway.”

“Quite?”

“Well,Iknowhecaresaboutmeandallthatcrap,buthedoesn’twantarelationship.Withme,
anyway.Toomuchtolose.”

“Soyoutossedoveraperfectlygoodfiancéfornothing,honey?”

Isnort.“Yes.I’dratherbealonethanwithsomeonewhodidn’t…measureup.”Iwipemyeyes.“Don’t
sayanythingtoanyonejustyet,okay?”

Shenods,thengoesintothekitchenandreturnswiththewinebottle.“Well,whatever.Ithinkyou’re
brave,Chastity,forgingoutonyourown.Allornothing.Doordie.Bytheway,Iheardaboutthatcar
accidentwhenyouweresocalm.Goodforyou,honey!I’msoproudofyou.”

“Thanks,Mom.”Itakeaslugofwine,andmaybethealcoholgivesmethecouragetosaysomething

oncemore,justfortherecord.“Youdon’thavetomarryHarry,youknow.Dadwillloveyoutillthe
dayhedies.”

“Inhisownway,yes,”shesaysbitterly,thenshestartstocry,too.“Oh,isn’tthisfun?I’msogladyou
cameover,”shesobs,andIlaughwetlyandgoovertohugher.

“Let’srunofftoVegas,justusgirls,”Isuggest,andshegivesmeanaffectionateswat.

“I’mgoingtobeveryhappywithHarry,”sheproclaims.“GuesswhatI’mgivinghimforawedding
present?”

“Anewprostate?”Isuggest.

“No,youbadgirl.TheJoyofSex.”

Iblanch.“Nowwho’sthebadgirl,hm?Let’schangethesubject!Isn’tTheOfficeontonight?”

I

AWAKENTHENEXTMORNING

withmydogdrapedovermytorsoandnobloodatallinmyextremities.

“Off!”Imumble,shovingButtercupwithmylifelesslimbs.“Breakfasttime.”Sheignoresmeand
remainscorpse-like.Ipetherearsandstareattheceiling.

Mercifully,thereisnoofficialrehearsaldinnertonight.Instead,we’regoingtoHarry’stomeethis
daughtersandgrandchildrenandhavepizza.“Okay,dog.Upandat’em.”

MydogandIrolloutofbedandcareendownthehall,mylegsstillprickling.Water ’srunninginthe
kitchen,sothatmeansMom’smakingcoffee,thankGod.Imaybealittlehungover.

Thebackdooropensandcloses,andIhearfamiliarfootsteps.IgrabButtercup’scollarandlurchtoa
stopjustoutsidethekitchen.

“Whatareyoudoinghere,Mike?”mymotherasks.

Mybreathcatches.Atlast!

“Chastity,weknowyou’rethere,”Dadsays.“Comeoninhere,Porkchop.”

“Morning,”Imutter,obeying.Dadraisesaneyebrowanddoesn’tsmile,makingmefeellikeI’min
sixthgradeagain.Islinkovertothecoffeepotandpourmyselfacup.

“Whatisit,Mike?”Momasks,smoothingherhairdown.She’sdressedalready,lookingverycutein
hersweatersetandbeadednecklace.

“Betty—”hebegins.

“Don’tstart!”shebarks.“Youcan’tdothistomethedaybeforemywedding.Iwon’t—”

“Quiet,woman!”Dadsnaps.“Listen.It’snotwhatyouthink.”Heglancesatme.

“I’lljusttakemycoffeedowntotherecroom,whereIwon’teavesdropatall,”Ioffer.

“No.Stay,sweetheart.”HelooksatMomagain,thentakesherhand,verygently,andlooksdownat
herfromtheten-inchdifferenceintheirheight.“Betty,”hesayssoftly,“youwereawonderfulwife
andanextraordinarymother.Thankyou.”

Asobburstsoutofme,causingcoffeetosplatterdownmyfront.“Sorry,”Isay,coveringmyeyes.
Buttercuplicksupthespilledcoffee,thenliesatmyfeet.Tearsdripdownmycheeks.

Daddoesn’tevenglanceatme.“IhopeyouandHarrywillbeveryhappytogether,honey,andI’m
sorryforeverytimeIdisappointedyou,”hetellsmymother.

She’scrying,too.“I’llalwaysloveyou,Mike,”shewhispers.

“I’llalwaysloveyou,too.IwishIcould’vegivenyouwhatyouwanted.”

Ipressmyarmagainstmymouthtostiflemycrying.DadleansdownandkissesMomonthe
forehead,thenhugsher.Hiseyesglowwithtears,buthe’ssmiling,too.

“Mike?”mymomsays.“Willyoudosomethingforme?”

“Anything,”heanswers,andinthismoment,hemeansit.

“Willyougivemeawaytomorrow?”

Dadwipeshiseyes,thenpullsbacktolookintoMom’seyes.“Itwouldbeanhonor,”hesays.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-SEVEN

T

HENEXTDAYATONE-THIRTY

intheafternoon,IgivemydressIfinaltug.“DoIlookridiculous?”

Elainastepsbackandexaminesmecritically.“Youlookhot,bambino.Thisisyourcolor.”

“Pink?”Iaskincredulously.“Pink?”

Oliviaburststhroughthebedroomdoor.“Oh,Auntie,youlooksopretty!”shebreathes.“Like
CruellaDeVille!”

Ishootmynieceasharplook.“Thanks,Livvie.That’sdefinitelywhatIwasgoingfor.”

“It’syourhair,”Oliviaexplains.“It’sblack-and-white,likeCruella’s.”

“It’snotblack-and-white,”Itellmysix-year-oldniecewiththinlyveiledpatience.“Ihaveoneortwo
grayhairs.Myhairisblack.”

“Actually,youdohavekindofastreakgoingonhere,”Elainasays,examiningmyhead.

Islapherhandaway.“Wherearetherestofthegirls?”

Allofusbridesmaids—thatis,myniecesandme—arewearingpink.Adeeproseforme,palepink
forthegirls.Mom,tomysurprise,iswearingareddress.Shelooksfabulous.Hercheeksglow,her
blueeyessnapwithexcitement,andanybitternessorsorrowshe’sbeenhidingseemstohave
evaporatedwithmyfather ’sgrandgesture.

Nomalesareallowedatthehouse;it’sjustuswomenfolkaswedressandcurlandsprayandbrush.
TheStarahsareinchargeoftheirdaughters,andIhelpbucklelittleshoesandziplittlezippers.My
brothers,fatherandnephews—andofcourse,Harry—willmeetusatthechurch.

Afterthephotographertormentsuswithanhourandahalfofpicture-taking,wespendseveralyears
(orsoitseems)discussingwhowillridewithwhomtotheUnitarianchurch.“I’mjustgonnawalk,”I
threaten.“It’llbefasterthanthisconversation.”

Butit’srainingout,somythreatsareempty.

Finally,weclamberintotheminivansandcarsandheadoff.Mom,ElainaandIarealoneinMom’s
Chrysler,mechauffeuringwhilethetwoofthemsitintheback.

“Youlookbeautiful,Mamí,”Elainasays,fixingastraycurlbehindMom’sear.

“DidChastitytellyoushedumpedRyan?”Momsaysmildly.

Elainasighs.“Yes.Toobadaboutthatring.Could’vesentmybabythroughcollege.”

Igrinintherearviewmirror.“Well,youcouldalwaysfinishdivorcingMarkandmarryRyan
yourself,Lainey.”

“YouknowverywellI’mnotdivorcingMark,”shesays.“Infact,Imightaswelltellyou,I’m
pregnant.”

ThecarswervestotherightasMomandIshriek.“Lainey!That’swonderful!”

Sheblushes.“Yeah,well,he’sanewmanandallthat,youknow?Somaybeagirlthistime.”

Momisdabbingtears.“I’msohappy,Elaina,sweetheart,”shesays,huggingLaineytight.

Iam,too,andifaflameofenvyisdancinginmyheart,well,I’mprettyusedtoit.

“Oh,look,there’sthechurch!”Momexclaims.“Thisissoexciting!Ibarelyremembermarrying
Mike,IwassosickwithJack.”

“Jack’sabastard?Iknewit,”Icomment.Sure,wekidsdidthemath,butMomandDadneveradmitted
it.TheyinsistedthatJack(weighinginaninepounds,twelveounces)cametwomonthsearly.

Meninsuitswaitforus,facesobscuredinaseaofumbrellas.Some,nodoubt,aremybrothers.And
Trevor.AndDad.

Jackhelpsmeoutofthecar,asIamawkwardinmylongdress.“Lucky,whyareyouwearinga
dress?”heasks.Ifliphimoffcheerfully.“Sorry,Chas,”heamends,usheringmeinside.“Youclean
upnice.”

“Thanks,Jack.How’sDad?”Iglancearound.DadistalkingtoMatt.Angelawavestomefromapew.

“Dadiseerilyfine,”Jackanswers.

“Chas,canyouloadthisfilmforme?”Luckyasks.“I’mallthumbs.”

“Yetyoudefusebombsforaliving.Howreassuring.”ItaketheprofferedcameraanddoasI’mtold.

Luckylaughs.“Putadressonherandshe’sallhighandmighty.Ilikeyoubetterwhenyou’reoneof
theguys.”

“Jointheclub,”Imurmur,handinghiscamerabacktohim.“Here.”

“Hey,Chastity.”

Iturnaround.“Hi,Trevor.”Ibitemylip.“Youlookveryhandsome.”Andtired,andalittlesad.

Hesmiles,buthiseyesdon’tjoinin.“You…that’sanicedress.”Hecloseshiseyesbriefly,
acknowledgingthelamenessofhiscompliment.

“Thanks,”Isay,forgivinghim.

Heclearshisthroat.“Chastity,what’syourdaddoinghere?”

“Oh,youdidn’thear?He’sgivingawaythebride,”Isay,forcingasmile.

Hiseyebrowsbounceupinsurprise.“Areyoukiddingme?”heaskstooloudly.

“Trev!Overhere,bud,”Markcallsfromafrontpew.Trevorhesitates.

“Goahead,”Isay.“Ihavebridesmaidythingstodo.”

Stilllookingstunned,hewalkstowardthefrontofthechurch,glancingbackatme.Ishrug.

Mombustlesinbehindme.“Thereyouare!”shesays,asifIwerehiding.“Where’syourfather?”

“Righthere,Betty.CanIbethefirsttokissthebride?”Dadsmoocheshercheek.“Don’tyoulook
gorgeous,”hesays,andheseemstomeanit.He’sallCaryGranttoday,smilinganddebonair,good
graceandmanners.Momgrinsupathim.

Seeingthemsmilingmoonilyateachother,Iwait.WaitforMom’ssmiletofadeinabruptrealization.
Waitforhertomaketheannouncement.Tocallitoff.WaitforhertoglancedowntheaisleatHarry,
fivefootseven—toooldforher,toochubby—andthenstareatmytallandhandsome,strongand
heroicfatherandrealizethatnoonewilleverfillMikeO’Neill’sshoes.Todeclaretoeveryonethat
truelovehasconquered,andsheandDadwillstaytogether,happierthanever,tillthedaytheydie.

Butshedoesn’t.Instead,sheadjustsmydad’spin,aMaltesecross,thesymboloffirefighters.Then
shecheckstoseethatallhergranddaughtersareinplace,andtheyare,ashimmeringmobofcreamy
pinksatin.SarahnodsatthechoirloftandwalksdowntheaisletowhereJackandtheirboysare
sitting.Theorganstartsplaying,andthegirlsbegintheirmarch.FirstSophie,strewingpinkrose
petals,thenOlivia,hercopperycurlsbouncing.ThencomesAnnie,whoisscowlingatLukeashe
triestotakeherpicture.Claire,holdingbabyJenny,comeslast.Whenthey’reallseatedinthefront
pewswiththeirbrothersandparents,it’smyturn.

Itakeonemorelookatmyparents,togetherforthelasttime,arminarm,smiling.Doit,Mom,Iwill
her.Shesmilesatmeasifshe’sreadingmymind.BeingMom,sheprobablyis.

“Goon,honey,”shewhispers.

SoIdo.Heartaching,Ido.

TrevoriswatchingmeasImakemywaydowntheaisle.IhopeI’msmiling,butIbetI’mnot.Ican’t
seemtofeelmyface,actually.Trevlooks…odd.Bleak.ThewayIfeel.

ThenI’mpasthim,alreadyattheplainlittlealtar.

“Youlooklovely,Chastity,”Harrywhispers.

HowcanmymombemarryingamanI’veonlymetfourtimes?Howcanthisguybetheonewho
willsitinmyfather ’schair?

MomandDadarerightbehindme.DadkissesMom’scheek,shakesHarry’shand,andI
surreptitiouslywipeawayatear.Dadturnsaway,andmythroatslamsshut.No,Daddy!Fightforher!

ButMomisbeaming.Harryisbeaming.DadsitsinthesecondrowwithMarkandElaina,picksup

Dylanandkisseshischeek,possibly,Ithink,tohidethetearsinhiseyes.

Andthen,withoutalotofpomporcircumstance,mymotherturnstoHaroldH.Thomastonand
becomeshiswife.

T

HECHURCHHALLISDECORATED

withpinkstreamersandpinkflowers.Pinkballoonsaretiedin

bundlestotheconcreteposts,andtheDJissettingupinthecorner.Itlooksmorelikeaseven-year-
oldgirl’sbirthdaypartythantheweddingoftwoseniorcitizens.TheStarahscleverlyhiredacouple
ofhighschoolgirlstokeepaneyeontheirbroods,andthekidsarerunningaround,stuffingdeviled
eggsintheirmouthsandgettingsugareduponShirleyTemplesandrootbeer.

Myplanistohavealargeglassofwineaspromptlyaspossible,butMomforciblyintroducesmeto
eachandeveryoneofHarry’srelativesandfriends.BythetimeIsitdown,mycheeksachefromfake
smilingandmyfeetarekillingme,encasedintombsofsize-elevenkittenheelsinventedbyaman
whosemothermusthavebeatenhimdailytoinspiresuchmisogyny.

“Howareyoudoing?”Angelaasks,slidingnexttome.

“Notthatgreat,”Iadmit.“Howaboutyou?”

“Matt’stellingyourfatherhe’sleavingthefiredepartment,”shemurmurs,toyingwithanapkin.

“Kickinghimwhenhe’sdown?”Isuggest,lookingovertowhereMattandDadsit,headtohead,
facesserious.

“Well,tobehonest,Chastity,”Angelasaysgently,“yourfatherdoesn’tseemthatunhappy.”

She’sright.That’sprobablythemostdepressingthingofall.That,orTrevor ’sface.He’ssittinginthe
cornertablewithJackandLuckyandtheirmanychildren,staringatthesaltshaker,clearlylostin
thought.Unhappythought.AtleasthehadthegracenottobringPerfectbleepingHayden.

“Yourbrotherwantstobeateacher,”Dadannounces,thumpingintothechairnexttome.Mattsits
downmoregracefullynexttoAngela.

“Andhowdoyoufeelaboutthat,Dad?”Iask.

HeeyesMatt.“I’msurprised,that’sall,son,”hesays.“Ithoughtyoulovedthefiredepartment.”

“Ido,Dad.ButIwanttotrythis,too.”

“Fine,fine,”hemutters.“IfI’velearnedanything,it’sthatyoucan’tkeepamanawayfromthework
heloves.Right,Chas?”

Irollmyeyesandchugalittlewine.

“Well,Matthew,you’llbeagreatteacher.Andahusbandonedaysoon,ifI’mnotmistaken,”Dad
announcesheartily.Isputtersomewine—sograceful,really;Ishould’vebeenaprincess.

“Excuseme?”Iask.

Angela’sfaceisbrightred.Mattgrins.“Well,we’replanningtogetmarried.Nothingofficialyet,
sinceIdon’thavearingandallthat,but,well,I’mgivingnotice,Chas.AngieandIaremovingin
together.”

“Great!”Ibark.“That’sjustgreat.That’sjustbleepingwonderful.Sohappyandallthatcrap.”

Angela’sfacefalls,andI’mimmediatelyrepentant.“Shit.Sorry,Ange.Iamhappyandall…”Tomy
horror,Istarttocry.“It’sjustthat…I’llmissyou,Mattie.SowillButtercup.”

“We’llbetwoblocksaway,Chas,”Mattsays,puttinghisarmaroundAngela.“AndIcouldn’tdo
betterthanthisgirl,couldI?Justthink.Anothersister-in-law.”

Allfourofmybrothers,married.Everyoneexceptme.Boohoohoo.Igetup,hugthemboth,messup
Matt’shairandgivehimasmack,thengotothebathroomtocryalittle.There’snorespite,though,
becausemyfatherbangsonthedoor.“Chastity!Yourmother ’sgoingtodancewithmyreplacement,”
hecalls.“Shewantsyouthere.”

“Great,”Imutteratmyreflection.Reachingintothebodiceofmydress,Iyankupmystraplessbra
andstompoutofthebathroom.

Alltheguestsaregatheredroundthelittledance-floorarea.“Ladiesandgentlemen,”theDJsays,and
Iresistthestrongurgetostickafingerinmymouthandmakeagackingsound.“Appearingforthe
firsttimeasmanandwife,Mr.andMrs.HarryThomaston!”

Everyoneclaps—evensulkylittleoldme—astheytaketothefloor.ThesongisNorahJones’scover
ofthebeautifulHoagyCarmichaelsong,“TheNearnessofYou.”

Harryissmilingbesottedlyatmymother,andshegrinsback,andsuddenly,herhappinessbreaks
throughmythorny,sulkingheart.Shedeservesthis.Shereallydoes,andmyeyesfillwithtears—
again—atthesightofherface.

“Andnowthebrideandgroomwouldliketoinvitethemembersoftheirfamiliestojoinin,”theDJ
oozessmarmily.

Ofcourse,Idon’thaveamate,IthinkasJacknSarah,LuckynTara,MarknElainaandMattnAngeladrift
outontothefloor.JackleansdownandkissesSarah’stummy,LuckyismakingTaralaugh.Elaina
andMarkaredoingthathotstaringthingtheydowitheachother,lookinglikethey’reabouttoburst
intoapasadobléorsomething.MatthashischeekagainstAngela’sblondhair.Whatagorgeous
family,Iadmit.Harry’stwodaughtersaretheresomewhere,too,butIhavetosayourgeneticsare
quitesuperior.WhatagreatjobMomandDaddid!

“Comeon,Porkchop,”Dadsays,andleadsmeouttojointhem.

Thefamiliarsmellofmydadenvelopsme,Johnson’sbabyshampooandOldSpice,andIleanmy
cheekonhisshoulder.“Areyouokay,baby?”Dadasks.“YourmothertoldmeaboutRyan.”

“Somuchforhervowofsilence,”Imutter.

“Areyou?”

“I’mfine,”Isay.

“Whathappenedwithyoutwo,anyway?”

“Hejustwasn’ttheone,Dad.Blah,blah,bleepingblah.Youknowhowitis.”

Dadchucklesandkissesmyhair.Thenhestopsdancingandlooksup.

“CanIcutin,Mike?”

It’sanemotionalday,sure.ButthesightofTrevorstandingthere,askingmydadifhecandancewith
me…Itdoessomethingtome.Myheartsurgestowardhim—themanI’velovedsinceIwasten,the
manI’llalwayslove—andforonesecond,Ifeelasexposedasababymouseinaroomfullofferal
cats.DadlooksatTrevor,smilesandstepsback,winkingatme,andTrevortakesmeinhisarms.

Hishandiswarmandfirmonmine,andtheheatofhisbodyshimmersintome,eventhoughwe’re
keepingtheproperdistance.Mycheekgrazeshis,justenoughtofeelthathe’sclean-shaventoday,and
heatwigglesthroughme.I’mactuallydizzywiththenearnessofhim.

Thenthesongfades,Trevorpauses—theChickenDanceissuretofollow—butno,thefatesdecideto
bekind,andtheDJstickswithNora.“ComeAwaywithMe.”Oh,God.Icanhardlybreathe.Westart
dancingagain.

“Hi,”Iwhisper.

“Ididn’ttellyouhowbeautifulyoulook,”hesays,andit’shardtolookintohischocolateeyeswith
wordslikethat.

“Thankyou.”Myvoiceisn’tworkingproperly.Myhandisonthebackofhisneck,myfingersjust
brushingagainsthishair,wantingtoslideintotherichnessthere.Icanseethepulseinhisneck,and
maybeit’salittlefast.Wedon’tsayanythingforaminute.MyheartispoundingsofastIfeelalittle
faint.Itrytoabsorbeverysensation—hisheat,hishandsonme,thecleansoapysmellofhim.

“Where’syourfiancé?”Trevoraskscasually.

Istiffenslightly,andTrevorstepsbackalittle.“Well,”Ibreathe.“Um,wesortofbrokeup.”

Trevor ’seyeswidenafraction,aneyebrowraisinginsurprise.Hestopsdancing,butnoneofthe
othercouplesseemtonotice,toocaughtupinbeinginlove.“Why?”Trevorwhispers,stillholding
myhand,hisarmstillaroundme.

Myheartthumpsharder,slower,eachbeatwaitingformyanswerasIstareintoTrevor ’seyes.Iopen
mymouthtogivesomeanswer,somecasualit-didn’t-work-outkindofthing.Butinstead,Ihear
myselfsaysomethingelseentirely.

“Becausehewasn’tyou.”

Trevor ’slipsparteversoslightly.Heblinkstwice.Hedoesn’tsayanything.Thesongends.

“Howaboutthat,folks?”theDJbleats.“Andnowtochangethepacealittle.Anyonehereknowthe
Macarena?”Everyoneclapsandcheers,andIfeelmydressbeingtugged.

“Auntie!Auntie!IknowtheMacarena!”Claireshouts.“Comeon!It’sfun!‘Hey…Macarena!’”

Iputmyhandonherhead,andTrevortakesastepback.Withoutsayingaword,hewalksoffthe
dancefloorandoutofthechurchhall.

M

YMINDISBLANKFORTHEREST

ofthereception.Myheartisblank,too.Itcanonlytakesomuch,I

surmise.Maybeit’sgettingusedtobeinginthisstateofbrokenness,ofincompleteness.Whoknows?
Hey,youdidallyoucould,myheartwhispers.Thanksfortrying.

Idancewithmyniecesandnephews.IpickthemupandtwirlthemandpretendI’mgoingtodrop
them,andtheyshriekandjumpandwaitimpatientlyfortheirturnswiththeirbelovedAuntie.Iwave
tomymomandsmileatmybrothers.WhenMarkaskswhereTrevorwent,Ijustshakemyheadand
shrug.ThenIdancewithHarry,toweringfiveinchesabovehim.

“IwantyoutoknowhowluckyIfeel,”hesays.“Yourmotherisasplendidwoman.I’lltakegoodcare
ofher.”

“Youbetter,”Imutter,thencorrectmyself.“Iknowyouwill,Harry.Sorry.”Hesmileshis
forgiveness.

JustasI’mabouttositdownwithvariousandsundryfamilymembersforourrubberchicken,my
motherapproaches.“Willyoumakeatoast,honey?”sheasks.“Harry’sbrotherisveryshy.”

“Sure,”Isayautomatically.Dad,who’ssittingacrossfromme,givesanod.Momfluttersacrossto
theDJ,thenzipsbacktoHarry.

“Andnow,”saystheDJ,whoreallyshouldworkforBarnum&Bailey,“thedaughterofthebride,
ChastityO’Neill,willsayafewwordsforthehappycouple.”Imakemywayovertothedancefloor
andtakethemicrophone,thenturntotheguests.

Mymindgoescompletelyblank.

“So,”Isay.“Well.”Iswallow.“Hello.”

Lucky,alwaysthefirsttostartmisbehaving,covershisfacewithhishand.Tarashootshimalookbut
immediatelylooksdownasherownlaughterrises.ThenMark,thenElainaandMatt,thenafewofthe
kids.Igrin,andmyheartseemstoapprove.We’llbeokay,itsays.

“Shutup,boys.Sorry,Mom.”Igrin,thentakeadeepbreath.“Iguesstherearealotofkindsoflove,”
Ibegin.

“Chastity.”

Ifreeze.

Trevorisstandingatthebackofthehall.

“Chastity,”hesaysagain,andstartswalkingtowardme.

It’ssilentinherenow;theonlysound,thatofthecaterersclatteringintheadjoiningkitchen.
Something’swrongwithme,Ithinkdistantly,watchingTrevorcomecloserandcloser.Mylegsstart
shaking,myeyessting,myheartraces.Imaythrowup.

“Chastity,”hesaysquietly.“Ican’tlivewithoutyouanotherminute.”

ThemikefallstothedancefloorwithathunkasIcovermymouthwithbothhands.Tearsspilloutof
myeyes,andIcan’tseemtodrawabreath.Theroomisabsolutelysilent.

“I’velovedyoumywholelife,Chas,fromthatfirstdayyoutookmehomeafterMichelledied.And
I’mterrifiedyou’llleavemeoryou’llstoplovingmeorevenworse,somethingwillhappentoyou.
ButIcan’tbewithoutyouanymore.”Hetakesmyhands,whichareshakingwildly,andswallows.
“TodayIwatchedMikegiveawaythewomanheloves.Ican’tdothat,Chas.IthoughtIcould,I
thoughtitwouldbebetterifyouwerewithsomeoneelse,butIwaswrong.AndIsweartoyou,Iwill
loveyoutherestofmylifeandnothingwillevercomebeforeyou.Please,Chastity.Forgivemeand
marrymeandhaveabunchofbabieswithme,andI’ll—”

Therestofhiswordsarecutoff,becauseI’mkissinghim.Andcrying,bawling,really,andTrevor
hugsmehardandlong.Hisarmsareshaking,andhiseyesarewet.Thenhepriesmeoffhimand
slidesaringontomyfinger.“IhadtogotoJurgenskillforthis,”hesays,grinning.“Nothingintown
wasopen.”Ijustwrapmyarmsaroundhimagain,becausereally,Idon’tevencarewhatthering
lookslike;itcouldbeapieceofstringasfarasI’mconcerned.AllIcandoisclingtoTrevorand
weep,apparently.

“Well,holycrap!”myfatherblurtsinthesilence.“Wherethehelldidthiscomefrom?”

“Abouttime,”Markdeclares.

“Here,here,”Jackseconds.

“You’retellingme,”Mattsays.“Trylivingwithher.”

“Didyouguysknow?”Luckyasks.“I’veknownforyears.”

“CanIbeyourflowergirl?”Claireasks.

ButIhardlyhearanyone,becauseTrevoriskissingmeandwhispering,overandover,“Iloveyou,
Chas.Iloveyou,Iloveyou,Iloveyou.”

EPILOGUE

E

IGHTMONTHSLATER

,IhavetopeesobadlyImaydie.

“Iknow,it’suncomfortable,”Sallythetechsays,squeezingwarmgooontomystomach.“Butjust
youwait.It’sworthit.Howfaralongareyou?”

“Fourteenweeks,”Ianswer.

Trevortakesmyhandandsqueezesithard,grinning,thosebeautifulbrowneyesdancing.

Wegotmarriedamonthaftermymom’swedding.Wehadnoflowergirlsorlimos.Iworeacute
littlewhitedressandmyredhigh-tops.Buttercupwaitedoutside,bayingmournfully,andMatt
sneakedherinjustbeforetheceremonystarted,distractingtheclerkwithhismovie-stargoodlooks.

CityHallwaspackedwithO’Neills,CPlatoon,APlatoonandDPlatoon(BPlatoonhadtowork),Bev
Ludevoorsk,ErnestoandhiswifeandthewholestaffoftheEatonFallsGazette,minusLucia,who
quitthedayafterherfirstdatewithRyanDarling,M.D.

Nothingfancy,justElainaasmymatronofhonorandmyfatherasbestman.Iwasbawlingbythe
timeTrevortookmyhandandtoldmehe’dlovemeandcherishmeallthedaysofhislife.Infact,
therewasn’tadryeyeinthehouse.Dadwascrying,Momwascrying,Elainawashiccuppingaway,
theStarahs…evenHarry,stillmostlyastrangertome,wascrying!WewenttoEmo’sforthe
reception.Itwasthemostbeautifulweddingever.

Ifyou’rewonderingaboutPerfectHayden,well,guesswhat?TrevordumpedherthenightIwent
overwiththenote.WhenIaskedhimwhy,hejustsaid,“Whydoyouthink,dummy?”Andthenhe
kissedme,andweendedupdoingitonthestairlanding,notabletowaittillwegottoourbed
upstairs.

“Sodoyouguyswanttoknowthesex?”thetechasks,staringatthescreen.

“Sure,”Trevoranswers.Iconcentrateontheblurry,otherworldlyimagesonthescreen.

Suddenly,wecanseeaprofile…alittlenose,forehead,lips,atiny,ghostlyhand.Myheartbucks,and
Trevorsucksinabreath.

“There’syourbaby.”Sallysmiles.

Ourbaby.That’sourbaby.Ilookatmyhusband,unabletospeak.Hiseyesarefulloftears.Ismile
wobbily,andhekissesmyhand.

“Oh,hey,what’sthis?”Sallysays,frowningatthescreen.

Mystomachdrops,andanice-coldwaveoffearsucksthejoyoutofmyheart.

“Whatisit?”Trevorasks,hishandgrippingmine.

“Huh,”shemurmurs.“Didyouguysknowyouwerehavingtwins?”

Ittakesaminuteforthosewordstoregister.“Holycrap,”Ibreathe,ahugesmileburstingovermy
face.

Trevor ’sshouldersareshaking,hishandcoveringhisface.Laughing,crying,someofboth.“Oh,
Chastity,Iloveyou,”hewhispers.

“They’reidentical,”Sallysays.“Seethat?Oneplacenta,onesac.Howwonderful!”

“Canyoutellwhattheyare?”Iask,turningbacktolookatmybabies.Mybabies!

“Isurecan,”shesays.“Congratulations.You’rehavingboys.”

“Holycrap!”Trevorblurts,laughing.“Oh,myGod.You’reamazing,Chastity.Waittillyourfather
hears.”

Smiling,cryingfromthesheerjoyofit,Ireachdownandtouchmyslightlyroundedstomach.My
boys.Mysons.Fourbrothers,theEatonFallsFireDepartment,Trevorandnowtwinsons.

LookslikeI’llalwaysbeoneoftheguys.

Andyouknowwhat?That’sfinewithme.

ISBN:978-1-4268-2012-0

JUSTONEOFTHEGUYS

Copyright©2008byKristanHiggins.

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