It took much, much longer than necessary.

He made a gigantic mess in the kitchen.

He put in too many red pepper flakes.

He didn’t cook the pasta long enough.

He burned the garlic bread.

He made me close my eyes, then he surprised me with a bowl of cherry ice cream topped with amaretto sauce for dessert.

“How did you get this?” I asked after one taste. “It’s from Cloverleigh Farms, isn’t it?”

“Well, I had to buy the ice cream from the grocery store,” he confessed. “But the sauce I picked up from the restaurant. I know it’s your favorite, and I wanted to watch you lick the spoon again.”

I licked more than the spoon that night.

Apparently, taking it slow with Tyler Shaw was not a thing I could do.

He just did something to me.

Always had, always would.

Twenty-Six

Tyler

On Friday, I crossed several things off my seemingly endless to-do list. Met with a realtor and looked at several properties for sale in the area, broke the news to Anna that I was moving back to Michigan (I may have shed a tear), and contacted my real estate agent in San Diego about putting my house up for sale.

I also hit a car dealership to test drive some new SUVs, opened up a bank account, and stopped at my sister Sadie’s house to let her know what April and I had decided to do.

We were sitting out on her front porch when I told her.

“Are you serious?” she said, sitting up and clasping her hands under her chin.

“I’m serious. She loved your idea about contacting a reporter on our own and breaking the story ourselves.”

“It’s the only way to own the narrative. I really think it’s the best plan.”

I nudged her foot with mine. “Of course you do. Because it was yours.”

She raised her chin in smug satisfaction. “You’re welcome.” Then she leaned back on her hands again. “So when will it happen?”

“Well, we’re going over to their house tomorrow. If they go for the idea, I guess I’ll need that reporter’s contact information right away. What’s her name?”

“Victoria Nelson. I’ll give it to you before you go,” she promised. We were silent then, watching the two girls across the street turn cartwheels on their front lawn. “You nervous?”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “But this isn’t about me. It’s about being there for April and Chip. And it’s about . . . what Dad would have done.”

She looked at me. “You’re right,” she said softly. “It is what Dad would have done.”

I didn’t trust my voice not to crack, so I said nothing.

Later, as I was leaving, she said, “Give me a minute. I’ll get Victoria’s number for you. I just have to go upstairs and find it on the computer.”

“Okay, but hurry up. I’m supposed to meet April over at Cloverleigh to talk to her parents.”

Her brows shot up. “Oooh, facing the parents. Are you scared?”

“Fuck yes, I am. But she asked me to be there, so I’ll be there.”

She smiled. “I’ll be right back.”

I waited by the back door, checking my watch impatiently every thirty seconds. She was taking much longer than necessary to go find one phone number. Couldn’t I just look the woman up online?

Five minutes later, she came rushing into the kitchen again, her hands behind her back. “Sorry,” she said. “My helpers got a little carried away.”

“Helpers?”

“Yes.” She handed me a slip of paper. “This is Victoria’s email and cell phone. And these…” Bringing the other hand from behind her back, she held out a handful of clovers. “These are for luck.”

I stared at them in her palm, little shamrocks plucked from the lawn just like she used to give me before a game.

“Come on, take them.” She wiggled her hand. “Put them in your pocket.”

I did as she said, my heart swelling in my chest. Then I grabbed her in a huge bear hug. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Although the twins did most of the work. I get dizzy bending down now. And their lawn had more of them anyway.”

I laughed. “I’ll thank them.”

“Let me know how everything goes,” she said as I went out the door. “I love you. And I’m so proud of you.”

“I love you too,” I said. “Thanks for everything.”

As I walked to my car, which was parked on the street, I saw the little girls watching me. I gave them a wave, and they waved back.

“Did you get the lucky clovers?” one of them called.

“I did,” I called back. “Thank you!”

“We picked the luckiest ones we could find!” hollered the other one.

“I appreciate it,” I told them, thinking a little girl might not be so bad one day. “I need all the luck I can get.”

Twenty-Seven

April

On Saturday afternoon, Tyler and I stood side by side at the Carswells’ front door.

He looked at me, his hand poised to knock. “Ready?”

“I don’t know.” I looked up at him and grabbed his fist in both my hands. “I’m scared.”

“Don’t be scared. It’s going to be okay.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I just do. Listen—close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Come on, do it.”

I closed my eyes and he took me by the shoulders, turning me to face him.

“Now hold out your hands.”

I peeked with one eye. “Why?”

“Hey. No cheating.”

Sighing, I closed them both again and held out my hands. A moment later I felt him place something light and feathery on my palms. “Okay, you can look.”

I opened my eyes and looked down—my hands were full of bright green clovers. I gasped. “Oh my gosh! Where did you get these?”

“From Sadie,” he said. “They’ll be right in my pocket. Feel better?”

Laughing, I nodded. “Yes. But let me keep one.”

He took one from the little pile and tucked it into my purse. Then he took the rest of the pile and stuck them back in the pocket of his jeans. “Should I knock?”

I took one more deep breath. “Yes.”

He knocked three times then took my hand.

A moment later, the door opened, and my pulse skittered.

“Hello.” Robin Carswell smiled, looking back and forth between Tyler and me. “Well, this is a surprise.”

“Hi, Robin.” My stomach was flipping wildly. “I brought a friend. I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course. I understand,” she said, although there was no way she could. “Come on in. It’s nice to see you both again. I didn’t realize you two knew each other.”

We stepped into the front hall, my heart pounding so loud I was sure she could hear it. “Thank you. Yes, we’ve—we’ve been friends a long time.” My voice sounded weird to me. High-pitched and quivery.