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  Giff frowned. “Okay?”

  I hugged my knees to my chest as I swung up to lean against the bed again. “Don’t you see? His father assumed I’d still be with Liam at that point. I saw a look on Liam’s face—he was not happy.”

  Ava nodded. “The thrill of the chase was officially long over. Once his parents were thinking of you as a long-term girlfriend, he was scared shitless.”

  “I don’t know about scared, but definitely freaked.”

  “Yeah, that would be classic Liam.” Giff sighed.

  I rolled my eyes. “Maybe, but it’s also the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Seriously? So you’re a guy, you have a girl who’s hooking up with you on a regular basis, someone who as far as I can tell, you don’t hate, and just because your parents approve, suddenly you turn asshole? And not only that, you feel the pressing need not only to break up with said girl, but do it in the most hurtful, dick way possible?” I shook my head. “I call bullshit.”

  “You’re not wrong. But trust me, sweetheart, it’s the truth.” Giff lay down and reached an arm to the fridge, snagged the bottle of white and sat up again. He unscrewed the top and poured a healthy slug into the cup that had held the rummy bears.

  “I’ve known Liam since the first day of high school. I was cocky, with a huge chip on my shoulder about being the scholarship kid at the prep school. And believe it or not, he was geeky and quiet. He was all about the running. We were lab partners in chem, and somehow, we hit it off. I’ve seen him change, saw what the whole ‘I’m the Senator’s son, chicks dig me’ deal did to him.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure it was a horrible thing to go through, all that privilege and girls throwing themselves at him. However did he rise above it?” Ava didn’t use sarcasm often, but money and position were sensitive subjects for her.

  Giff cocked an eyebrow. “Hey, we all have crap to go through. I’m just saying that a lot of what you see with Liam came from all of the insecurity. Don’t you ever wonder why he still lives in that tiny little dorm with me instead of getting an apartment? Believe me, Mom and Dad would foot the bill.”

  “He always said it was for you.” I smiled and patted his hand, and he grinned.

  “Well, my charm is definitely a big factor, no doubt. But if you think about it, our boy doesn’t have friends, outside me. He didn’t want to room with anyone else, didn’t want the competition, maybe? You, Jules, were the most real connection I’ve seen him make. That’s why I was so pissed when he screwed it up. On purpose.”

  “And it’s why he’s going to help get you two wacky kids back together again.” Ava’s eyes flashed bright over Giff’s head.

  “You know it.” He chucked me under the chin, and his cheeks dimpled. “Trust me, kid. We’re gonna work it all out.”

  I didn’t sleep well that night. I was uneasy about Giff’s determination to get Liam and me back together, and more than a little guilty about my own plans to throw all that work away in the name of revenge. Liam’s feelings didn’t worry me; the sting of his very public rejection was still fresh enough that I wouldn’t mind tossing some hurt his way. But the idea of deceiving Giff made my stomach turn just a little.

  I’d met Giff as soon as I started dating Liam. And looking back, I realized how often he had smoothed things over between us, or taken heat for Liam, deflected blame so that I couldn’t be mad. If not for Gifford, Liam and I might not have dated as long as we did. Was that good or bad? I wasn’t certain.

  “Guess what?” I couldn’t contain my excitement, even over the phone, as I dodged other students on the sidewalk.

  “Julia, I’m really busy. This project is due tomorrow, and the whole group is dumping the work on me, as usual. Can this wait?”

  “No, it can’t.” I switched ears. “Remember that article I wrote on how the Civil Rights movement affected Birch? The Inquirer just called Dr. Rawlings. They’re picking it up, they’re going to publish it next week.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay? Liam, are you kidding me? This is huge. We’re all going out to Roddy’s in town to celebrate, the staff and Ava, too. Bring Giff. We’ll meet you there.”

  “Julia, are you listening to me? I can’t. I need to get back to work.”

  Tears of hurt clustered in the back of my throat, and I couldn’t say another word. I clicked off the phone and stuffed it deep into my bag, so that I wouldn’t be able to hear it if he called back. I shouldn’t have bothered; he didn’t.

  Late the next afternoon, I answered a knock at my dorm room door. Liam stood there with a huge bouquet of flowers.

  “So are you still pissed?”

  I didn’t answer. I leaned against the door jam and raised one eyebrow.

  “I’ll take that as a yes. Here.” He shoved the flowers toward me, so I had no choice but to take them. “I’m sorry you’re mad, Julia. I really didn’t have a choice.”

  “That’s bullshit, Liam. Everyone has a choice. I get you were swamped, and I would have understood that you couldn’t come out. But you couldn’t be the least little bit supportive? Just a little excited for me?”

  He rolled his eyes, and I wanted to hit him. Hard.

  “Okay, I get it. I’m a lousy boyfriend. A terrible person. What else do you want me to say?”

  I shook my head. If he didn’t understand, there wasn’t any way for me to explain.

  “Come on.” He put one hand on my shoulder. “I made reservations for us at Suzanne’s. Get changed, and we’ll go celebrate.”

  I turned and let him follow me into the room, and we went to dinner. And that night I let him make it up to me, as he put it, in bed.

  The next day, I ran into Giff coming out of the library as I was going in.

  “So did you like the flowers?” He grinned at me. “I know you love orchids. I thought they were perfect.”

  I closed my eyes. “Did you get the flowers, Giff?”

  His mouth drew down, and he blinked. “I—Liam asked me to pick them up, I was going out anyway—it was totally his idea.”

  “Giff.” I patted his arm. “You don’t have to cover for him. Liam is...” I looked away, over his shoulder. “Liam is who he is.”

  I sleep-walked through the first day of classes Monday morning as the professors droned on about syllabi and expectations and class schedules. I liked all of my teachers now; as a junior journalism student, I’d finished all the core requirements and could focus on my major. No more science for liberal arts (which translated to ‘science-we’re-making-you-take-so-we-look-good-but-you-will-never-use-it’) or math classes, and I wasn’t going to miss them.

  I trudged through the snow to the car Ava and I shared. Thanks to her shopping trip on Saturday, our trusty Corolla was cleared off and ready to go. I shivered until the heat kicked in and made my way off campus, careful to stick to the slower-than-snail speed limit.

  The off-campus roads were snow-free and moving fast. Old Camptown Pike curved over gentle hills and through vast farmland, now showing brown patches where the snow had blown away. The trees were bare skeletons against the bright blue sky.

  It was a beautiful day, in spite of the cold, and just being out, driving on country roads with the music blaring, made me feel a little better. I turned off the Pike onto a long driveway that led to a gray stone farmhouse.

  I parked the car a little to the side of the garage and made my way across the snow to the side door. I heard voices within as I knocked on the glass.

  “Doolia!” A small body slammed into me when the door flew open. “You’re back!”

  I dropped to my knees, grinning. “Desmond, my favorite boyfriend! I think you grew over Christmas!” His little arms clung tight to my neck, and I buried my nose in his brown curls.

  “Des, let Julia come in out of the cold.” Sarah’s heels clicked into the room. She smiled down at me. “I think he missed you.”

  “I sure missed him.” I rose, still holding his warm three-year old body. “Is it just me, or did he shoot up again?”
r />   She nodded. “I think so. All his pants are short again.”

  I nuzzled his neck. “You’re getting way too big!”

  Sarah patted his back. “Which reminds me. Would you be up for a little mall trip?” She dug into the huge red leather purse on the table and pulled out an envelope. “Here’s some cash. See if you can find him some jeans, maybe some khakis, if you don’t mind.”

  “Sure, no problem.” I hitched Des around to my hip and ruffled his hair. “What else can we do if we go to the mall? Hmm, let me think.” I tapped my lip, pretending to be deep in thought.

  “Train!” Des wriggled down and ran to his mother. “Mama, Doolia and me gonna go on the train!”

  Three-year old boys were so simple and easy. Desmond had two great loves: trains and kittens. The mall gave us a chance to indulge both of those, since we could stop in at the pet store and ride the tot-sized locomotive that snaked around the stores.

  Sarah leaned down to kiss his cheek. “Have fun, you two. I’m off. Julia, I’ll be home about five or so. Not sure if Danny will make it before me or after, but there’s a lasagna in the freezer-if you could stick that in the oven at three seventy-five, I’d appreciate it.”

  I pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down, pulling Des onto my lap. “Got it. We’ll get the shopping out of the way first, yes?” I winked at Sarah over her son’s head. “Not that anyone we know would need one, but maybe someone might nap on the way home.”

  “Not me!” Desmond declared.

  “Of course not.” Sarah buttoned up her coat. “But Julia looks a little tired, don’t you think? Maybe you could tuck her in for a little rest after the mall.”

  Des looked at me skeptically, and Sarah and I both laughed as she closed the door behind her.

  A post-snow, winter Monday spelled a dead mall. Des and I hit the sales racks, and I snagged some good deals on his cute little jeans. We cruised the pet store and shared an ice cream cone before I finally gave into his persistent pleas for a train ride.

  After months of weekly train rides, I was intimately acquainted with the elderly man who served as conductor, and he brightened when he saw us approach. I paid for our tickets and helped Des into his favorite caboose seat before folding myself into the tiny space next to him for the thrill-a-minute ride around the wide corridors.

  As I had hoped, he conked out on the ride home. I managed to keep him asleep once we got there, and when I was sure he was settled into his toddler bed, I snuggled on the sofa with a reading assignment.

  The Flemings home was cozy and comfortable. Dr. Fleming had joined the biology department at Birch last year, and Ava had been in his class when he announced that he and his wife were looking for a part-time nanny. The only caveat was that he couldn’t hire anyone whose major was in the sciences, so that he couldn’t be accused of favoritism.

  Ava, knowing I was looking for a part-time job, passed the info along to me. Sarah and I clicked from our first meeting, and I’d fallen in love with Desmond. And as much as I loved living in the dorm, being in a real home three times a week was definitely a perk of the job.

  My night of rotten sleep was catching up with me, and the less-than-scintillating reading for History of Journalism didn’t help. I pulled up a wooly red blanket and lay my head back on the pillowed sofa. My eyes drifted close.

  I don’t know how long I dozed before a slamming door jolted me awake. Disoriented, I bolted upright and grabbed for the baby monitor on the table in front of me. I could hear the steady in-and-out of Desmond’s sleeping breath.

  Before I had time to look out the window, loud footsteps came from the front of the house. My heart thumped: Danny and Sarah always came in through the kitchen, and I was sure I’d checked all the locks before Des and I left for the mall.

  Someone was in the house with me.

  I looked around for some kind of weapon, but the Flemings’ house was so completely baby-proofed that there wasn’t even a heavy knick-knack in reach.

  “Hey.”

  I wasn’t sure exactly what I expected an intruder to look like, but it wasn’t this. He was tall—or maybe it just seemed that way from my vantage point of cowering on the couch. His light brown hair was wavy, curled at his neck, and his blue eyes were wide with surprise. His worn and faded jeans, along with the flannel shirt just visible under a bulky jacket, didn’t quite match the bright red socks on his shoeless feet.

  If he hadn’t looked so perfectly comfortable standing there, I probably would have thought a homeless man had wandered into the Flemings’ family room. He dropped a fat green duffle bag onto the floor and stared at me a moment more.

  Instinct kicked in, and I scrambled to the far corner of the sofa, mentally mapping out a path to Desmond’s room and praying I could protect the baby.

  “Oh, God, I’m sorry.” The stranger took one step further into the room and lifted both hands. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I mean, I don’t know who you are. But obviously no one told you I was coming.”

  I shook my head, adrenaline still pulsing in my veins.

  He came a little closer and stuck out a hand. “I’m Jesse. I’m—Dr. Fleming is my dad.”

  I opened my mouth to answer when more pounding feet sounded above. Des burst into the room from the other direction, his face still flushed with sleep and his favorite light blue blanket clutched in one arm.

  “Doolia, I wake up--” He blinked in my direction and then caught sight of our visitor.

  “Big bro!” Desmond launched himself across the room. Jesse scooped him up.

  “Little bro!” He hugged the toddler, and all at once I could see the resemblance. Desmond’s curls were tighter than his brother’s waves, but the color was exactly the same, as was the shape of their faces.

  I stood, feeling a little like an intruder as I watched their reunion. Desmond chattered about the train and the snow, and Jesse smiled and nodded in response.

  “Hey, dude, so who’s this? Is this your girlfriend? How come no one told me you’re dating now?”

  Desmond giggled as he remembered me for the first time. “Not my girlfriend! Doolia! She’s my Doolia.” He wiggled, and Jesse set him down on the floor.

  Des grabbed my hand and dragged me away from the couch. I smiled, although I was sure my hair was sticking up in all directions and my makeup was probably smudged from sleep.

  “Hi, I’m Julia.” I would have felt funny extending my hand—and Des had a hold of it, anyway—so I hoped the smile would do. “I hang out with Des while his mom’s at work.”

  Jesse nodded. “I’m sorry for scaring you. I told Dad I’d get here some time today, but maybe they figured it would be later. No one told you I was coming?”

  I shook my head. “Sarah was kind of rushed getting out the door, and this was my first day back after Christmas break. She probably just forgot to let me know.”

  “Hmmm.” He frowned, and I wondered if he were upset that no one had thought his arrival important enough to mention to the babysitter. Now that the initial element of terror was wearing off, I remembered a few references to Danny’s children from his first marriage. I’d seen pictures of them, a boy and a girl, but looking at Jesse, I realized the photos had to have been over five years old.

  “Doolia, I’m hungry!” Des tugged at my hand, and I let him lead me to the kitchen. Jesse followed us, silent as I put a few slices of cheese and apple on Desmond’s favorite Thomas the Tank Engine plate.

  “So are you here visiting?” I screwed the lid onto the matching cup and set it on the high chair tray. Des grabbed it and chugged like a man just in from the desert.

  Jesse slid out a chair and sprawled into it. “No, I’m actually moving here. For a little while, at least.”

  “Oh. That’s nice.” Lame, I thought. What a brilliant conversationalist I am.

  “I graduated last year from SUNY, but now I want to get my masters. I was looking at a bunch of schools, and then my dad got this job.” He shrugged. “Birch has a decent SLP program, I get
a huge tuition break since my dad is a professor, and I can live with him and Sarah rent-free. Call me cheap, but it works for me.”

  “SLP?” I cocked my head, trying to remember what that meant.

  “Speech language pathology. That’s my undergrad degree. But you need a masters degree to get a real job, like in a school or a hospital or even working with a practice.”

  “Oh, that’s cool.” I reached over to put another piece of apple on Desmond’s plate.

  “Yeah, I like it. Took a while for me to decide what I wanted to major in, so I was excited when I figured it out.” He pulled the package of cheese over toward him, peeled off one slice, folded it and took a bite.

  “What about you? Do you go to Birch?” He swallowed and looked at me in question.

  “Yeah. I’m in the journalism program. I’m a junior.” I wasn’t sure why I felt compelled to add that.

  Jesse nodded. “So do you live here? I mean, are you like a live-in nanny?”

  “Oh, no. I live on campus. I work here three days a week since Sarah went back to work.”

  “I was just wondering. I’m living in the guest house out back, I guess.”

  “I haven’t been inside it.” I played with a napkin on the table, folding it into tiny squares. “So, SUNY? Are you from New York?”

  “Yeah, about an hour north of the city. A little town on the Hudson. How about you?”

  “I’m a Jersey girl. I grew up on the coast, about an hour from here.”

  “All done.” Des leaned his hands on the tray, struggling to get out of the high chair. “I wanna get down.”

  “Okay, bub. Hold on.” I unbuckled him, wiped off his hands and face and set him free. “There you go. Run wild.”

  Jesse and I both watched him take off for the toy chest in the corner where he dumped out a bag of wooden blocks.

  “You’re great with him.” Jesse smiled at me. “Do you babysit a lot?”

  “I used to, when I was in high school. I love kids. I have two younger sisters, too. They’re 13 and 17 now, but I helped out when they were little.”