Finally, an aide of some kind knocked on the door. “Sorry to break this up, guys. Mary Elizabeth, it’s time for dinner, hon. James, you and your friend gonna stay?”

James glanced at Parker. “Not this time.”

“I’m starving,” Mary Elizabeth announced. She stood up and looked at Parker. “You’re my best friend now.”

“Thanks, Mare,” James said with an exaggerated sigh. “I thought I was your best friend.”

“You’re my brother. You can’t be best friends with your brother.”

“So true, Mary Elizabeth,” Parker said. “Don’t listen to him—he’s just grumpy.”

Mary Elizabeth seemed to like that. “You’re just grumpy, James,” she repeated. “You’re grumpy.” She looked at Parker, a gleam of conspiratorial delight in her eyes. “I love you, James’s friend,” she added, hugging Parker hard.

“I love you, too,” Parker said. Then Mary Elizabeth detached and hugged her brother. “Bye, James! See you tomorrow!”

“Bye, Mare. I love you.” James hugged his sister back, kissed her twice, then waved as she and the aide walked from the room.

“See you tomorrow?” Parker asked.

“She doesn’t really have a sense of time.”

“Oh.”

James stood up and put his hands in his pockets. “Well. Thank you for making her life.” He grinned, but it was a pale imitation of the usual. “Want to take a walk?”

“Sure.”

James clearly knew the place well, and several people, clients and staff alike, said hello, calling him by name. They walked through the campus, down a wide brick pathway to a little garden. There was a fountain in the middle, and two sparrows were taking a bath. The grounds were quieter now, and Parker could smell garlic and roast chicken.

“Food’s pretty good here,” James said, as if he heard her thoughts.

“That’s a plus.”

He was staring at the birds. “The technical term is anoxic brain injury. Deprived of air during a near drowning.”

Parker bit her lip. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

He leaned back, took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. Then he told her the story.

Mary Elizabeth had been a surprise baby—the four Cahill boys had been born within six years of each other, with Mary Elizabeth coming five years after James, the youngest son. She’d been as spoiled as a little girl could be; if one brother failed to obey her command, surely another would. She had them all wrapped, James said. Especially their father, who viewed Mary Elizabeth as a reward for enduring four boys. Her brothers would give her piggybacks, ride her on the handlebars of their bikes, even play princess tea party with her. She was the light of the family, everyone’s favorite.

Then, when James was twelve and Mary Elizabeth was seven, Tommy graduated from high school. The school gave out only four tickets per family, so James volunteered to stay home and babysit. The Terminator was on, and his mother hadn’t let him see it when it was in the theaters. The rest of the family went off to the high school. Mary Elizabeth asked to go swimming; the Cahills lived on a lake, and the kids swam almost every day.

James said no. Gave her some popcorn, made her a fort out of blankets in her bedroom, left her there playing with her dolls. Then he went into the living room and sat in front of the TV.

By the time he realized she was in the lake, she was already way too far out. He yelled for her to come in, and she turned and headed for shore. All the Cahills were excellent swimmers. But she was tired. When her head slipped beneath the surface, it took him a second to realize what was happening. There was no splashing, no yelling, no flailing. She just disappeared.

“I remembered what my dad always told us—row, throw, go. Row out, throw them something or go for help.” James’s voice was horribly quiet and calm. “We had a little dinghy, and I don’t even remember getting in it. I was pulling the oars as hard as I could, and I could hear myself screaming her name… .”

He jumped in where he thought she’d gone under, but the lake was murky, and it was hard to see anything. He swam around, eyes burning, chest aching, resurfaced for air and went under again.

And then he saw his sister’s hand, floating there, white against the green murkiness. He grabbed and pulled, kicking for all he was worth.

“They make it look so easy in the movies,” he said. “We were barely moving. She was a chubby little thing, weighed almost as much as I did back then. Then we broke the surface, and I held her face up, but the boat had drifted off in the wind, and I couldn’t make it. But I couldn’t let her go, either.”

“Oh, honey,” Parker whispered, wiping her eyes.

“We both went down, and I thought that was it, we were dying. I could see the light getting farther and farther away, and I felt so bad for my parents, to have to find us in the pond. But at least Mare and I would die together.”

Parker pressed her hand against her mouth, but a sob slipped out.

He gave her an oddly wry look. “I know. It’s a horrible story, isn’t it?” She squeezed his hand, unable to talk. “So, next thing I knew, my father had me by the arm, pulled me up, tossed me in the boat and went back for Mary. Got her to the dock, did CPR, all that. My mother was screaming, my brothers…well. It was a nightmare.”

“James, I’m so, so sorry,” she said in a shaky voice, the words pathetically inadequate.

He shook his head. “The TV was still on when I went back in the house. That’s what I remember. I wanted to watch the movie, and my sister almost died because of it.”

“James, you didn’t know what would happen! You told her not to go in, and you thought she was playing. It’s not your fault.”

“Oh, sure it is. My father grabbed the wrong kid first, that’s all.”

Parker’s heart seized. “No, James, you can’t think like that. You can’t.”

He gave her a bleakly rueful grin. “It’s what he used to tell me.”

Jesus. Parker squeezed his hand, unable to speak.

“So.” He took a breath, and his voice became more brisk. “Mare was in the hospital for weeks, then a rehab center. Mom started drinking, my brothers blamed me, and my father couldn’t stand the sight of me. That’s why I got shipped off to Dewey in the summers. And that’s the end of the tragic tale. I guess every family has one, and that’s ours.”

“You can’t hold yourself responsible for that, James. You were twelve years old,” she said.

“I was in charge. I knew she wanted to go in, and I knew she usually did what she wanted, but hey. The Terminator was on.”

“No, James. You were only a little kid yourself. It wasn’t your fault.”

He didn’t contradict her, but she could tell he didn’t believe her, either. The little birds were done with their bath, and a breeze rustled the leaves of the willow tree behind them.

“Do you pay for this place?” she asked, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

He nodded. “Shitty consolation prize. ‘Hey, Mary Elizabeth, I’m sorry I almost let you drown, but at least you can live in a nice institution.’”

No words were going to help here. Parker scootched onto his lap and wrapped her arms around him, kissed his head, her throat tight, and held him close, smoothing his hair, not saying anything.

“Parker?” he said eventually, his face against her neck.

“Yes?”

“I turned your father in to the SEC.”

The words took a minute to sink in. She blinked. “Excuse me?”

James pulled back to look at her. “He let something slip about a deal one night. Something that would be as good as Apple. I wasn’t sure at first, but it sounded…off.” His eyes were sad. “A drug company had a product really close to FDA approval, and he sank everything into it. He was absolutely sure it would be huge. But it didn’t pass its final trial. When he came to me and asked to liquidate your trust funds, I knew he’d screwed up.”

“Oh.” She took a deep breath, utterly stunned.

James was quiet for a minute. “The law says if an attorney suspects a client is committing fraud that results in financial loss for other people, he has to turn him in. And even though I owed Harry everything, because I could never afford this place without him, I had to do it. I called the SEC, and they took it from there.”

Parker blinked. A sparrow landed on the back of the bench, then flew off. “Does he know?” she asked.

“He might. He probably does—he’s not an idiot—but he’s never said anything. He knows about my sister and how I pay for this place.” His dark eyes were full of so much—guilt, sorrow, regret. “I’m sorry, Parker. I knew you and Nicky would be collateral damage, but I couldn’t say anything without breaking the law. If I lost my license or got indicted with Harry, I wouldn’t be able to take care of Mary Elizabeth.”

Parker looked at him for a long, long moment, then put her hand over his heart. “Oh, James,” she whispered. “I would’ve done the exact same thing.”

* * *

IT WAS NOT GREAT TIMING, falling for someone four days before a relationship was scheduled to end. Parker admitted that. But that night, James asleep on one side of her, Beauty on the other, both of them sound asleep, she had to acknowledge that it was true.

She was in love.

She studied him as he slept. Cheekbones of an angel, perfect, smooth skin.

They would make beautiful babies, that was for sure.

Oh, holy halos. Where had that thought come from? Now was not the time to be thinking babies. She had a child. That child—and reality—were returning in four days.

And James had never said anything about wanting kids, or a future, or anything other than getting exactly what he was getting now. The L word had not been exchanged. Given the horror he’d lived through, having kids was probably not on his list of things to do.

But hearing about James’s past, seeing him with his sister…it changed things in her heart, if not in the world.

James stirred, frowned, then opened his eyes. “Hey,” he muttered.

“Hi.”

He looked at her, his eyes softening. “Everything okay?”

“Yes.” Then she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, on the chin, on the temple, until he was smiling, and then she kissed him on the mouth, and the feeling was so overwhelming, so right and wonderful, she thought her heart might come right out of her chest.

Four days. Four more days of this.

It didn’t feel like enough.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

ON SATURDAY NIGHT, their last night together, James sat on the dock as ordered. He could hear Parker rattling around in the kitchen, putting the final touches on dinner. She’d already brought down a bottle of wine—the last one from Harry’s wine cellar, she’d said—and it was sitting in a bucket of ice next to him. The picnic blanket was spread and set. She’d even put a little vase of flowers in the middle.

James didn’t hate being on the dock anymore, despite the gentle rocking and deep water. Nope. It was growing on him, better late than never. The evening was warm and clear, the sun taking its time to set, lighting up Gideon’s Cove in a clean, golden glow.

It was almost insultingly romantic.

His bag was packed; his bed, in which he hadn’t slept for seven nights running, was now made up with fire-engine sheets for Nicky. James would be moving to Maggie Beaumont’s old apartment for the next week or so; all he had to do in exchange was check in on Maggie’s little old lady neighbor.

What happened with Parker after tonight, he had no idea.

A fling, she’d said. A weeklong summertime fling, at the end of which, they’d part as friends. Except he didn’t want her as a friend.