“So yeah,” Bryce said. “I hooked up with her, but to be honest, I have no idea why she hooked up with me. Even then, it was pretty obvious she was still hung up on you. She just looked so lonely that night.”

The thought made his chest hurt. Colleen, who was always so bright and smiling—lonely, even with her twin, her friends, her sister. Lonely, because he made her that way.

His eyes stung suddenly.

“I’m sorry I did it,” Bryce said, and his voice was gentle. “I took advantage of her being sad. I think I just wanted to see what it’d be like to be you, just for a little while. Obviously, it didn’t work.”

Lucas looked at him, the cousin who’d always looked up to him, who’d always wanted what he had.

The cousin who had risked his life to save him, that day on the tracks.

“Are we okay, Lucas?” Bryce asked.

Lucas got up from the couch and hugged him. “Yeah. We’re fine.”

“Good. Because there’s another reason I’m here.” He reached into his backpack, pulled out a small box and handed it to Lucas. “This is for you.”

Lucas opened it.

It was Joe’s silver pocket watch. The Civil War watch, handed from father to son for five generations now.

Warm and heavy in his hand, the watch’s curling design was faint but still legible. Lucas opened it. The numbers were elaborate and old-fashioned.

On the inside of the cover, the engraving read To My Cherished Son from Your Loving Father.

“This is your watch, Bryce,” Lucas said, clearing his throat. Could his cousin honestly not want this? “It’s been passed down from father to son since the 1860s.”

Bryce pulled a piece of paper from his knapsack and handed it over. “About halfway down.”

Lucas took the paper, the sight of Joe’s blocky handwriting giving him a pang.

Lucas won’t need anything, but take care of him anyway. I want him to have the Civil War watch, Bryce. I hope you don’t mind, but he deserves it. He’s always been such a good son to me, and a wonderful brother to you.

Make sure you stay close with him. I always missed my own brother so much. Picture me with your uncle Dan, okay, son?

There was more, but Lucas couldn’t see it, because suddenly his eyes were full of tears.

Maybe Joe hadn’t sent him out of the room because he hadn’t wanted him there. Maybe Bryce just needed to get his father’s final blessing, when Lucas had had it all along.

* * *

LUCAS AND STEPHANIE took Bryce out for breakfast the next day at Lula’s, then put him in a cab to the airport.

“I love that idiot,” Stephanie said. “Granted, I couldn’t spend more than a day with him, but he’s sweet. Gorgeous, too. Man! We have an amazing gene pool, us Campbells.”

“Yeah,” he agreed.

His sister fixed him with an irritated stare. “What’s the matter? You look like the dog died, and you don’t even have a dog. This is about Colleen, isn’t it? So she screwed Bryce. Get over it.”

“It’s not just that.”

“Oh, God. You men. You irritate me. I’m so glad I’m a lesbian.”

“Are you?”

“I could be. By the way, I hate to tell you this, but I’m staying with Forbes. Frank doubled my salary and gave me a promotion. Sayonara, sonny.”

He threw up his hands. “Wow. Thanks, Steph. Family loyalty and all that.”

“Please. I’m a single mother.”

“Yes, I vaguely remember.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know how Frank is. The job offer includes college tuition for the girls and a month of vacation to start. I already have the Rolls Royce health benefits, that freaking amazing gym, and now a wardrobe allowance at Bergdorf. You can’t do that for me, youngster.”

“Mom and Dad would be extremely disappointed in you, you materialistic monster.”

“Talk to the hand. The face is planning to take the girls to St. Croix.” She folded her arms. “Besides, you don’t want me working for you. I’d take over in about half an hour.”

“True.”

“And now you’re free to leave and go back to Manningsport.”

He hesitated. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because (a) I hate it there, and (b) you’re here. You and the girls.”

“Well, (a) you’re insane, because that place is f**king paradise, not to mention much better weather, and (b) have they not invented phones? FaceTime? Skype? Planes? Trains? Automobiles?”

“I see you’ll really miss me.”

She hugged him hard. “Get out of town, Lucas. Go get married and make me an aunt, for crying out loud. I gotta run. Chloe has a half day. Love you, bye, sorry I took a better offer, call me from New York.” She pecked him on the cheek. “Oh, by the way, I thought of your new slogan.” She paused for dramatic effect. “Campbell Construction—It’s Time to Come Home.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

ANOTHER FRIDAY NIGHT happy hour at O’Rourke’s, and Colleen was doing her thing. Con was in the kitchen. They’d already sold out of the tuna tacos. The Hollands took up two tables, and the fire department was having another of their “meetings,” which seemed to involve a contest for the filthiest joke involving a hose or a pole or both. Jessica Dunn was ahead by a mile.

Connor had broken up with his mystery woman. He wasn’t heartbroken, and Colleen once again had high hopes for Jess. Even now, Connor was giving her the eye. About time he listened to his sister.

Mother Dear was on a date in the back of the pub (drinking her disgusting white Zin and 7-Up) and discussing art with Ronnie Petrosinsky. Poultry art, specifically, though Mom was still extolling the thrill of painting nudes. Savannah had just left with Gail; Gail was debating whether or not to take Dad back.

As for Bryce and Paulie, Coll was thinking she’d wear violet as maid of honor, because it seemed as if those two were just a matter of time.

Lucas would be best man, of course.

Best not to think of him, but her throat tightened just the same.

“Colleen, would you make me one of those grapefruit gimlet thingies I had last time?” Louise asked, and Colleen snapped back to attention.

She made drinks, pulled beers, wiped up spills, flirted with the patrons and made sure Monica and Hannah didn’t need help bringing out orders. She called Rushing Creek to check on Gramp. Joanie, his favorite nurse, said he was sleeping comfortably.

Maybe Coll would stop by later.

She turned to check on Jessica and the gang to see if they needed anything, and there was Lucas.

For a second, it seemed as though she was imagining him, his dark eyes and curling hair and rough, fallen angel beauty.

But no, Carol Robinson walked past him, patted his ass, and said, “Hi, hottie,” and he smiled a little, not looking away from Colleen, and good God, the smile just nailed her to the spot.

He didn’t say anything.

He didn’t have to. He was here.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and her eyes filled with a rush and spilled right over. “I’m very, very sorry, mía.”

That word never failed to get her, and he damn well knew it.

“Well, then,” she whispered. Couldn’t manage anything else.

“Forgive me,” he said.

The bar was quieting, and Colleen realized that yes, she had four beer glasses in her hands and hadn’t moved, and this was quite unusual, and maybe people were catching on, and what was she wearing, anyway, heck, it didn’t matter, probably, at least there was the push-up bra, because every day there was a push-up bra, and Lucas was here, and he was sorry.

She wasn’t sure she’d ever be the same.

“I love you, Colleen,” he said, and no, she wouldn’t be the same, not ever.

Then Hannah took the glasses from her, but still Colleen couldn’t move, but her breath was jerking a little, and those tears just kept slipping down her cheeks.

Then Connor was there, behind the bar with her, and he put a protective arm around her shoulders. “What do you want?” he growled.

“I want to marry your sister,” Lucas answered, his eyes on her still, those deep, dark eyes that always said so much.

Connor bristled. “Over my cold, dead, stiff—”

“Oh, shut up, Connor,” she said, and with that, she scootched up on the bar, swung her legs over and then Lucas had her in his arms, and she was crying and laughing, and Lucas’s face was against her neck.

“I love you,” he whispered. “Let me come home to you, mía. Marry me. I’ll beg if I have to.”

“It’s so tempting, but you know me,” she said. “I’m easy.”

Then she kissed him, and a cheer went up from the gang, and Colleen held her man tight, the one she’d been waiting for, the only man she ever loved.

She pulled back, and Lucas wiped her eyes and kissed her forehead, and Colleen turned to the crowd. Faith was crying, Tom Barlow winked, Mom was blowing her nose into a napkin.

Then she kissed Lucas again and felt him smile against her mouth, and hugged him hard.

She looked over to see her brother smiling, albeit grudgingly I guess I can live with it.

Thanks, brother mine.

“Drinks are on the house!” he called.

EPILOGUE

IN THE GREAT tradition of the O’Rourke and Campbell families, Colleen got pregnant before she got married.

The Hollands had offered her the beautiful stone barn for her wedding, but Colleen wanted it held on the land she and Lucas had just bought—a couple of acres of hilltop meadow, Keuka glinting dark and blue in the distance, the vine-covered hills of Blue Heron to the east. Next week, construction would start on their home; they hoped to be in before the baby came. But for today, there was a white tent on the property, and Rufus galloped around the field, chasing Faith’s dog and Paulie’s fat little pug and dirty-mop dog.

It was a sparkling October afternoon, the sky a heart-wrenching blue, the red and gold leaves glowing on the hills. It would be a simple wedding—a tent, a justice of the peace, lots of good food (nachos, of course) and drinks and music.

Savannah was her maid of honor, and Bryce was best man, Faith and Paulie were bridesmaids. Mom had a date—Ronnie (he’d given them a lifetime pass for free chicken at any Chicken King franchise, and Colleen seemed to have a craving for it, now that she was six weeks knocked up). Dad and Gail were there in the second row, right behind Mom, not quite back together, not quite separated.

All the people Colleen loved, except one.

Gramp had finally slipped away, about two weeks after Lucas proposed. Colleen and Connor had been there, and Dad, too, Colleen with her head on Gramp’s chest, crying quietly because even though it was more than his time, and she firmly believed he’d be in a better place, she’d miss him terribly.

It occurred to her, late that sad night as Lucas held her close and stroked her hair, that maybe on some level, Gramp had waited for her to be taken care of. That maybe he knew she and Lucas had finally found their way back to each other, and felt he could leave her now. That all this time when she’d been taking care of him, he’d been taking care of her, too.

But while pregnancy was making her weepier than normal, today was a happy, happy day.

“You look pretty, yadda yadda,” Connor said. But his eyes were a little teary, too. “You ready?” Because yes, he was giving her away. No one else could do the job.

“I was born ready,” she said, and he grinned and rolled his eyes. “Con?”

“Yes, Irritating Sister?”

“I’ll be your best woman when you finally listen to me and marry Jess.”

“You’re such a pain.”

“I love you,” she said, eyes filling.

“I love you, too, idiot. Come on. Your song is playing.”