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I recognized the loneliness in her answer. I’d sounded just like Mrs. Loretti for the past six years.

“I see,” Josh simply said.

I started towards the door, because I missed my boy already. “See you around. Thanks for being so lovely to Lucas.”

She nodded at me, then at Josh and made her way across the lawn straight back to her front yard. Josh didn’t move. He watched the woman walk into her house, his head tilted forward, jaw locked.

“Come on, Champ. We promised Mrs. Sorenson we’d be gone by five. We only have twenty minutes left with Lucas.”

I didn’t intend to waste one second of it.

Josh joined me on the doorstep without saying a word.

“What’s up?” I asked. I didn’t want his change of mood to affect Lucas’ state-of-mind. It was already shaky enough. “Do you know that woman from somewhere else?”

Josh frowned as if I’d just asked the weirdest question. “What? No. I just met her, like you.”

“Then what’s up?” I repeated.

He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me to his side. I felt his warmth. He kissed my temple. “Nothing, Cass. Don’t worry.”

We stepped inside the Sorensons’ house.

I wasn’t worried.

CHAPTER 4

Josh

“It’s so lovely to have you around. At least I have an excuse to savor some of this Grappa.”

Mr. Guidi sat on one of the chairs on the deck in his back garden. I’d grilled some burgers for dinner and the three of us enjoyed the cooler temperature of the evening.

I’d drained my Grappa—a lemony aperitif from Italy—in one go and could still taste its syrupy flavor. “Mr. Guidi, we’re the ones who should be grateful. I hope us staying here hasn’t been too much trouble. We must’ve interrupted your routine.”

The man waved off my comment. “Routines are meant to be shaken up from time to time. And this is a very good reason, which is nice.” His voice trailed off.

The last time his routine had been messed with was back in May when his only daughter died in a car crash. Jenna was Lucas’ adoptive mother. A cloud settled around us and the old man stared blindly at the light yellow liquid in his glass.

“Jenna brought this bottle from Italy. The three of them went last year.” He took a slow sip from it and the air around us became heavier. “I told them the boy was too young to remember, but Jenna didn’t want to hear anything about it. She kept saying Lucas had to get to know where the Guidis came from.” He gave a faint chuckle and I noticed the light shaking of his hand. “I’m glad now that they went. It was their first, and last, real vacation as a family.”

Six years ago I’d have known what to say, but I’d become so closed-up over the years that my mouth stayed stupidly—frustratingly—shut. Cassie made her way over to Mr. Guidi. She knelt at his feet and slid her hand in his.

“Alfredo,” she murmured, “Alfredo.” He shook his head as if he were lost in another world. “I want to promise you something. When Lucas comes and lives with us, we’ll make sure he knows everything about his Italian heritage. Do you remember what Jenna cooked when I came over for Lucas’ fourth birthday?”

A broad smile broke across Mr. Guidi’s wrinkled face. “Penne Arrabiata. She got the recipe from her mom. And it had been passed down to my wife Anna from her mother.”

“I’d never tasted anything like that. Spicy and smoky at the same time—delicious. Would you do something for me?”

“Of course, my dear.”

“Would you share that secret recipe with me? I could practice a bit and then I could make it for our adoption celebration dinner.” Cassie struggled with boiling an egg. So a full recipe with ingredients, skill and tradition? I had my doubts.

But she didn’t seem to doubt herself. “It’ll be Penne Arrabiata
alla Cassandra
!”

“Bene!” Mr. Guidi raised his glass.

“And hopefully we’ll all survive lunch without food poisoning.” Cassie stood and kissed him on the cheek. Life gleamed again in Lucas’ grandfather’s eyes. He was already sitting up straighter in his chair.

I was so grateful to have this girl back in my life.

Minutes passed as the three of us eased into light small talk until Mr. Guidi slowly rose. I stood to help him. I’d come to like this old man very much.

“Thank you, Josh. I think it’s time for me to go to bed. Do you have everything you need?”

“We do,” Cassie answered. “Please, promise me you won’t wake up to say goodbye tomorrow morning. It’s far too early.”

“Someone needs to make you some real coffee. This husband of yours can only make dishwater. I want to see the two of you off anyway, so don’t even try to stop me.”

Cassie hugged him and I shook his hand. “I’ll keep working on my barista skills, Mr. Guidi.”

“Don’t worry, my boy. You can’t expect much more from a MacBride. Scots can’t make coffee or I’d have heard about it by now.”

We made it to our room and I flicked on the light. It was a small room and painted a shade of blue that must have been fashionable when the late Mrs. Guidi decorated it. Thirty years ago, at least. Everything was the same coral blue, from the frilly cushions against the bedpost to the fluffy rug.

“Alfredo looked really exhausted tonight.” Cassie put her toiletry kit on her bedside table.

I tried not to stare at her bare golden legs peeking out from under one of my Oxford shirts. It hung loosely around her and the few buttons she left open had me imagining what the curve of her breast would feel like. She turned toward me and I noticed a smudge of white at the corner of her mouth. I stepped closer to stand over her and wiped it away.

Pink colored her cheeks. “Please tell me I haven’t had ketchup all over my face since dinner.”

“Nope. Toothpaste.”

“Phew.” She kept staring up at me and the blush didn’t recede. The palm of my hand cradled her cheek and she slowly rested her face against it. Her skin was warm and soft, and so kissable.

I leaned forward, my eyes holding her baby blues. My lips were on hers before I could even think about kissing her. I fought for breath and my heartbeat quickened. She snuggled against me and lust burst inside me like fireworks against the Fourth-of-July midnight sky.

I lifted her by the ass and pulled her up to me as she wrapped her legs around my waist. In one stride, I lay her on the bed and pressed down on top of her, my hips grinding her warm body.

We both searched for air at the same time but my hands had a will of their own. One slid underneath her cotton panties to hold the firm muscles of her ass, the other cupped the back of her head so her face was tilted towards mine.

“You taste minty,” I whispered in her ear.

She answered with a throaty chuckle that was sexy as hell. “Is that supposed to make me all hot and bothered?”

I grazed at her earlobe with my mouth and followed down the line of her jaw. She trembled underneath me and I knew her words were all bravado.

“My bad, Mrs. MacBride. I’m a bit out of practice.”

I was starving for Cassie, but I wasn’t a teenager anymore. My lips moved from the corner of her mouth, down her neck. I stopped at the base and brushed against the small hollow, then down the valley between her breasts. I gave tiny bites to her nipples through the material of the shirt. She whimpered and I lost control.

My fingers moved along her hipbone. I’d always loved its curve. I started kissing her again, this time my tongue hunted for hers. I sucked at it. Once. Twice. Each time triggering a thrust from her hips. There was nothing left of the fumbling. This wasn’t our clumsy first time at Sweet Angel Point. Or the spur-of-the-moment sex we had back in Oxford. It’d blown my mind, but it had also been wrong in so many ways.

The memory pierced my heart and punched at my libido. I tore myself from Cassie, my fingers, my lips. I rolled onto my side and lay on my back. I stared at the ceiling while the movements of my chest betrayed the turmoil inside.

“What the hell?” Cassie sounded pissed-off. “I’ve been trying to cool you down all week and now, when we’re about to commit the deed… you back off.”

“I’m sorry.”

Silence filled the tiny space between us until she turned sideways with her head resting on her crooked arm. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” I shot back. I moved so that I faced her, our mouths a few inches apart.

“So why’d you stop?” She sounded like a little girl whose favorite toy had been taken by the playground bully. I was out of my fucking mind to deny us what we’d been dancing around since we got back together less than a week ago.

“I don’t think we’re ready yet.”

Cassie crossed her hands over her chest and curled her legs underneath her. “How so? Because from where I stood—or laid—you felt
very
ready.”

“I’m totally up for going at it all night, Cass. But this isn’t about that.” I extended my hand and rested it on her stomach above her scar. The scar left by the C-section.

“What is it about then?”

“I want it to be our first time all over again.”

A wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows but there was a smile in her voice when she asked, “Then why didn’t you jump me when we got back together at Sweet Angel Point?”

“I’m serious, Cass. I’ve been drooling like a puppy dog all week waiting for you to give me the green light. But I don’t want what we had in Oxford. I want making love to be about our future. I want it to be about being married and committed to each other.”

Cassie bit on her lower lip and avoided my eyes. “I thought you were committed to me. Back under the cotton tree, you said it was the real deal this time, that this was our second chance. Have you changed your mind?”

My hand flew to her face, my thumb underneath her moist eyelids. “I’ll never go back on my word and I’ve never meant anything other than what I said to you that day. It meant even more to me than when I said ‘I do’ in front of God and Reverend Beasley.”

Her body relaxed against me. “Sometimes you talk like a chick, you know.”

“Baby, trust me when I say there’s nothing feminine in my boxer shorts right now.” I gave her an innocent kiss, one that lasted barely a second. I wasn’t that masochistic or self-controlled. “But when I make love to you for the first time again, it will be as a husband honoring his wife.”

“Yeah, but technically we’re already husband and wife.”

Damn,
the girl wasn’t making it easy for me to be good. “What I’m trying to say—and failing to apparently—is that we have to focus on the man and the woman we are today. Not the boy and the girl we used to be.”

She stared downwards for a long minute, processing my words. A misunderstanding was the last thing we needed before parting for weeks. Finally her gaze settled back on me, locking my attention.

“Josh MacBride, I think you’re ready to get into politics. You managed to convince me to do something I absolutely don’t want to do.” Her tone turned solemn. “I understand. But I need you to cuddle and spoon me all night.”

“Then assume the cuddle position, woman.”

We wriggled underneath the duvet cover, me still half-dressed, Cassie with her back turned to me in an almost fetal position. I aligned myself against her, my arm over the hollow curve of her waist.

“Good night, Cass,” I whispered.

“Good night, Champ,” she whispered back.

CHAPTER 5

Cassie

By seven a.m. I had caffeine buzzing through my veins.

It’d started with Mr. Guidi’s triple espresso. But we’d left so early that we made it to the bus departure point with an hour to kill. We’d gone into a nearby diner to wait and I’d ordered a large coffee. It’d tasted as thin as water so I ordered a second.

Big mistake.

I was wound as tight as a spring. And it was also almost time to get onto a freakin’ bus full of strangers who lived and breathed sex, drugs and rock’n’roll. Okay, maybe I was being a bit clichéd. Still, they were all guys and the only women who ever got onboard were groupies, and they weren’t there just to enjoy a glass of iced tea.

Not that I was a prude, or anything. I mean, I got knocked-up at seventeen.

“So you’ll email me the paperwork as soon as you get it. Promise me,” I asked.

“Cass, chill out. Curtis is launching the adoption process this week. These things take time.” He leaned across the table and his hand covered mine. “We’ve talked about this.”

I nodded. My foot kept tapping against the side of my chair. “I’m not like you, Mr. Ivy League. Paperwork makes me nervous and takes me ages to get through. I have to think about every single word I write. I don’t want to say anything that’ll mess up our application.”

“Think about it like writing a song.” When I tilted my head sideways, he added, “Seriously! Just don’t worry, please. I’ll review everything before I send it to Curtis. So in the end there’ll be several pairs of eyes to ensure we look like the most respectable, mature and stable adoptive parents ever.”

I chuckled. “Good luck with that. Erasing six years of screwing up is gonna take some clever spin.”