Too Good to Be True (21 page)

“Which he does, Margs!”

She didn’t listen. “Besides, I’m such a bitch, Grace, who would want me for a mother?”

“You’re not a bitch. Not all the time,” I assured her. “Angus loves you. That’s a good sign, isn’t it?”

“Do you want me to move out? Stay at a hotel or something?”

“No, of course not. You know damn well you can stay with me as long as you want,” I said. “Come on. Give us a hug.”

She wrapped her arms around me and squeezed fiercely. “Sorry about the Wyatt crack,” she muttered.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, squeezing her back. Angus, jealous that there was love and it wasn’t directed at him, began leaping and whining.

Margaret stepped back, breaking our hug, grabbed a tissue and wiped her eyes. “Want some dinner?” she offered. “I made enough for us both.”

I looked at what she called dinner. “I try to avoid eating rope,” I said, getting a little grin in response. “I’m actually not hungry. Think I’ll just sit outside for a bit.” I poured myself a glass of wine, patted her shoulder to assure her I wasn’t mad, and went out with my dog into the sweet-scented night.

Sitting in an Adirondack chair, I looked around my yard. Angus was sniffing the back fence, patrolling the perimeter like the good guard dog he was. All the flowers I planted last year were coming up beautifully. The peonies along the back fence were heavy with blooms, the sugary smell of their blossoms heady in the night. Bee balm waved over near pine trees that shielded me from 32 Maple, and on Callahan’s side, the irises rose in graceful lines, white and indigo, vanilla and grape scented. The lilacs along the eastern side of the house had faded, but their scent was indescribably lovely, calming and invigorating at the same time. The only sound was of the Farmington River, full and fast at this time of year, gushing over the rocks. A train whistle sounded somewhere, its melancholy note underscoring the loneliness that shrouded my heart.

Why couldn’t people be happy alone? Love took your heart hostage. I’d sell my soul for Margaret and Natalie, my parents, Julian, even sweet little Angus, my faithful friend. As proven by my recent actions, I’d do anything to find someone who’d love me with the same wholeheartedness I wanted to love him. Those distant days with Andrew seemed like they’d happened to someone else. And even if I did find someone, what guarantee was there that it would last? Look at my parents, so pissed off with each other all the time. Margaret and Stuart…seven years crumbling away. Kiki, Julian and me, all floundering.

I seemed to be crying a little bit. I wiped my eyes on my sleeve and took a healthy slug of wine. Stupid love. Margaret was right. Love sucked.

“Grace?”

My head jerked up. Callahan O’ Shea was out on his roof, looking down at me like a blue-collar
deus ex machina.

“Hi,” I said.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Oh…sure,” I said. Feeble, even for me.

“Want to come up?”

My answer surprised me. “Okay.”

I left Angus examining a clump of ferns, went through the little gate that separated my backyard from the front, and headed for Callahan’s back deck. The fresh boards, sharp and clean-smelling, glowed dimly in the night, and the metal rungs of the ladder were cool under my hand. Up I went, peeking over the roof to where my neighbor stood.

“Hi,” he said, taking my hand to help me.

“Hi,” I said back. His hand was warm and sure, and I was glad, never being a huge fan of ladders. That hand made me feel safe. Just one hand, that was all it took. It was with great reluctance that I let it go.

A dark-colored blanket was spread on the rough shingles. “Welcome to the roof,” Callahan said. “Have a seat.”

“Thanks.” Self-consciously, I sat down. Cal sat next to me. “So what do you do out here?” I asked, my voice sounding a bit loud in the quiet, cool air.

“I just like to look at the sky,” he answered. But he wasn’t looking at the sky. He was looking at me. “I didn’t get to do that a lot in prison.”

“The sky’s pretty,” I said.
Clever, Grace. Very witty.
I could feel the warmth of his shoulder next to mine. “So.”

“So.” He was smiling a little, and my stomach did a slow, giddy roll. Then he stretched out so that he was lying on the blanket, clasping his hands behind his head. After a second’s hesitation, I did the same thing.

It
was
pretty. The stars were winking, the sky velvety and rich. The river’s lush song was pierced by a night bird of some kind, trilling softly every few minutes. And there was Callahan O’ Shea, the solid warmth of him just inches from me.

“Were you crying before?” His voice was gentle.

“A little,” I admitted.

“Everything all right?”

I paused. “Well, Margaret and Stuart are having a tough time of it these days. And my other sister, Nat—remember her?” He nodded. “She’s getting married in a few weeks. I guess I was just feeling sentimental.”

“You and that family of yours,” he commented mildly. “They sure have a choke hold on you.”

“They sure do,” I agreed glumly.

The far-off bird trilled again. Angus barked once in reply. “Were you ever married?” Callahan asked.

“Nope,” I said, staring at the hypnotic stars. “I was engaged a couple of years ago, though.” God. A couple of years ago. It sounded like such a long time.

“Why’d you call it off?”

I shifted to look at him. Nice, that he assumed it had been my decision. Nice, but untrue. “I didn’t, actually. He did. He fell for someone else.” Funny…saying it like that didn’t sound all that bad.
He fell for someone else.
It happened.

Callahan O’ Shea turned his head. “Sounds like he was an idiot,” he said softly.

Oh.
Oh.
There it was again, that warm, rolling squeeze of my insides. I swallowed. “He wasn’t that bad,” I said, looking back at the sky. “What about you, Callahan? Ever get close to the altar?”

“I was seeing someone before prison. I guess it was serious.” His voice was level, unperturbed.

“Why’d you guys break up?” I asked.

“Well, we were struggling a bit as it was,” he answered. “But me being arrested was the final nail in my coffin.”

“Do you miss her?” I couldn’t help asking.

“A little,” he said. “Sometimes. It’s like our happy times were in another life, though. I can barely remember them.”

His statement so echoed my own earlier thoughts about Andrew that my mouth opened in amazement. He must’ve noticed my shocked expression, because he smiled. “What?” he asked.

“Nothing. I just…I know how that feels.” We were quiet for another minute, then I asked him another question, one I’d wondered about more than once. “Hey, Cal, I read that you pled guilty. Didn’t you want to go to trial?”

He kept his eyes on the sky and didn’t answer for a second. “There was a lot of evidence against me,” he finally said.

As I had once before, I got the impression that Callahan wasn’t telling me all there was to tell. But it was
his
crime,
his
past, and the night and being here were just too comfortable to press on. I was out on the roof with Callahan O’ Shea, and it was enough. It was, in fact, lovely.

“Grace?” God, I loved the way he said my name, his voice deep and soft and with just a hint of roughness in it, like distant thunder on a hot summer night.

I turned my head to look at him, but he was just staring at the stars. “Yes?”

He still didn’t turn my way. “Are you finished with the cat wrangler?”

My heart jolted, my breath froze. For a flash of a second, I imagined telling Callahan the truth about Wyatt Dunn. Imagined him turning to look at me, his expression incredulous, then disgusted, rolling his eyes and muttering something less than flattering about my emotional state. I sure as hell didn’t want that. Callahan O’ Shea was asking if I was done with Wyatt because he…yes, there was no denying it…he was interested. In me.

I bit my lip. “Um…Wyatt’s…he was better on paper than in real life,” I said, swallowing hard. Not exactly a lie. “So yeah. So we called it quits.”

“Good.” Then he did turn to look at me. His face was serious, his eyes unreadable in the dim light from the stars. My heart slowed, and suddenly the smell of lilacs was dizzying. Cal’s lashes were so long, his eyes so lovely. And it was scary, too, looking at him like that, so close and available, so warm and solid.

Very slowly, he reached out to touch my cheek with the back of his fingers. Just a little caress, but I sucked in a sharp breath at the contact. He was going to kiss me. Oh, God. My heart clattered so hard it practically bruised my ribs. Cal smiled.

Then Margaret’s voice split the quiet air. “Grace? Grace, where are you? Nat’s on the phone!”

“Coming!” I called, abruptly lurching to my feet. At the realization that his mistress was on the roof, Angus exploded into yarps, breaking the quiet into shards of noise. “Sorry, Cal. I—I have to go.”

“Coward,” he said, but he was smiling.

I took another step closer to the ladder, then stopped. “Maybe I could come back up here again sometime,” I said.

“Maybe you could,” he agreed, sitting up in one quick, graceful move. “I hope you do.”

“Gotta run,” I breathed, then scuttled down the ladder as fast as I could. Cal’s low, ashy laugh followed me as I trotted into my own yard where Angus finally quieted. My heart thundered as if I’d run a mile.

“What were you doing out there?” Margaret hissed as I burst onto the patio. “Were you up there with Callahan?”

“Hi, Margaret,” Cal called from his roof.

“What were you guys doing up there?” she called back.

“Monkey sex,” he answered. “Wanna give it a try?”

“Don’t tempt me, Bird Man of Alcatraz,” she said, shoving the phone into my hand.

“Hello?” I panted.

“Hi, Grace. I’m sorry. Was I interrupting?” Nat’s voice was small.

“Oh, no. I was just…” I cleared my throat. “Just talking to Callahan next door. What’s up?”

“Well, I was wondering if you were free this Saturday,” she said. “Do you have anything at school? Or any battles?”

I went through the slider into the kitchen and glanced at my calendar. “Nope. All clear.”

“Think you’d like to go dress shopping with me?”

My head jerked back slightly. “Sure!” I said heartily. “What time?”

“Um, maybe around three?” Nat sounded so hesitant that I could tell something was wrong.

“Three would be great,” I answered.

“You sure?”

“Yes! Of course, Bumppo. Why do you sound so weird?”

“Margaret said maybe I should cut you a break and go without you.”

Good old Margs. My older sister was right—it would be awfully nice to skip out on this particular wedding event, but I had to go. “I want to come, Nat,” I said. Part of me did, at any rate. “I’ll see you at three.”

“Why do you baby her so much?” Margaret demanded the minute I hung up. Angus raced in, almost tripping her, but she ignored him. “Tell her to open her eyes and think of someone else for a change. She’s not lying in a hospital bed anymore, Grace.”

“I know that, Margaret dear. But for crying out loud, it’s her wedding dress. And I’m over Andrew. I don’t care if she’s marrying him, she’s our little sister and we should both be there.”

Margaret dropped into a kitchen chair and picked up Angus, who licked her chin with great affection. “Princess Natalie. God forbid she think of someone else for a change.”

“She’s not like that! God, Margs, why do you give her such a hard time?”

Margaret shrugged. “Maybe I think she needs a little hard time once in a while. She’s lived a charmed life, Grace. Adored, beautiful, smart. She gets everything.”

“Unlike your poor, orphaned, troll-like self?” I asked.

“Yes, I’m all soft edges and peachy glow.” She sighed. “You know what I’m talking about, Grace. Admit it. Nat has glided through life on a fluffy white cloud with a fucking rainbow over her head while bluebirds sang all around her. Me, I’ve stomped through life, and you…you’ve…” Her voice broke off.

“I’ve what?” I asked, bristling.

She didn’t answer for a second. “You’ve hit a few walls.”

“Andrew, you mean?”

“Well, sure. But remember when we first moved to Connecticut, and you were kind of lost?” Sure I remembered. Back when I was dating Jack of Le Cirque. Margaret continued. “And that year you lived with Mom and Dad after college, when you waitressed for a year?”

“I was taking time off to figure out what I wanted to do,” I bit out. “Plus, waitressing is a life skill I’ll always have.”

“Sure. Nothing wrong with that. It’s just that Nat’s never had to wonder, never been lost, never doubted herself, never imagined that life would be anything less than perfect for her. Until she met Andrew and finally found something she couldn’t have, which you ended up giving her. So if I think she’s a little self-centered, that’s why.”

“I think you’re jealous of her,” I said, smarting.

“Of course I’m jealous of her, dummy,” Margaret said fondly. Honestly, I would never figure Margaret out. “Hey,” she added, “what were you doing up on that roof with Hottie the Hunk Next Door?”

I took a deep breath. “We were just looking at the sky. Talking.”

Margaret squinted at me. “Are you interested in him, Grace?”

I could feel myself blushing. “Sort of. Yes. Definitely. I am.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Margs gave me her pirate smile.

“So?”

“So nothing. He’s a huge improvement on Andrew the Pale. God, imagine screwing Callahan O’ Shea. Just his name practically gives me an orgasm.” She laughed, and I smiled reluctantly. Margaret stood up and patted my shoulder. “Just make sure you’re not doing it to show Andrew that there’s a man who wants what’s in your pants, okay?”

“Wow. That’s so romantic, I think I might cry.”

She grinned again like the pirate she should’ve been. “Well, I’m beat. I have to write a brief and then I’m hitting the hay. ’Night, Gracie.” She handed me my wee doggie, who rested his head on my shoulder and sighed with devotion. “And, Grace, one more thing as long as I’m doing the big sister shtick.” She sighed. “Look. I know you’re trying to move on and all that crap, and I don’t blame you. But no matter how great Cal looks without a shirt, he’s always going to have a prison record, and these things have a habit of following a person around.”