He put the phone on vibrate and shoved it into his pocket.
Once they’d finished the glazing, he went back to babysitting, making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the boys. They looked so good, he made one for himself. Then he raided the refrigerator and made a cool, crisp salad for Jill.
“Lunchtime,” he told her, once he’d set the boys down to eat at their little table in their playroom.
She gave one last look at her boxed creations, snuck a peek at the new cakes in the oven and turned to him with a smile.
“So far, so good,” she said as she sat down across from him at the kitchen table. “Though one disaster can throw the whole schedule off.”
“Relax,” he said. “No disaster would dare ruin this day for you.”
“Knock on wood,” she said, doing just that. She took a bite of salad and made a noise of pleasure. “Ah! This is so refreshing.” She cocked her head to the side. “The boys are being awfully good.”
He nodded. “So it seems. I gave them their sandwiches.”
She frowned. “You left them alone with food?”
“They seemed to be doing great when I looked in on them.” He glanced toward the doorway. “Though they sure seem quiet.”
Jill’s eyes widened. “Too quiet,” she cried, vaulting out of her chair and racing for the playroom. Visions of peanut butter masterpieces smeared on walls and teddy bears covered in sticky jam shot through her head.
Connor came right behind her. He didn’t have as much experience with what might go wrong, but he could imagine a few things himself.
They skidded around the corner and into the room, only to find a scene of idyllic contentment. The peanut butter sandwiches were half eaten and lay on the table. The boys were completely out, both lying in haphazard fashion wherever they were when sleep snuck up on them. Jill turned and grinned at him.
“You did wear them out. Wow.”
They lifted them carefully and put them down in the travel cribs that sat waiting against the far wall. Jill pulled light covers over each of them and they tiptoed out of the room and back to the kitchen.
“They look like they’ll sleep for hours,” she said hopefully.
“Maybe days,” he added to the optimism, but she laughed.
“Doubtful. Besides, we’ll miss them if they stay away that long.”
“Will we?” he questioned, but he was smiling. He believed her.
She glanced at her watch. “We’ve got time for a nice long lunch,” she said. “Maybe fifteen whole minutes. Those cakes have to be delivered by noon, but the church hall where they’re going is only two blocks away. So let’s sit down and enjoy a break.”
She watched as he settled in across from her and began to eat his sandwich. She was so glad he’d talked her into letting him stay to help. Without him, she would surely be chasing her children up and down the stairs by now, with cakes burning in the background. She raised her glass of iced tea at him.
“To Connor McNair, life saver,” she said. “Hip, hip, hooray.”
He laughed. “Your Bundt cakes aren’t all out of the fire yet,” he told her with a crooked grin. “Don’t count your chickens too soon.”
“Of course not. I just wanted to acknowledge true friendship when it raises its furry head.”
He shook his head and had to admit it was almost as covered with curls as hers. “Anytime,” he told her, then tried to warble it as a tune. “Anytime you need me, I’ll be there.”
Her gaze caught his and she smiled and whispered, “Don’t get cocky, kid.”
His gaze deepened. “Why not?” he whispered back. “What’s the fun of life if you don’t take chances?”
She held her breath. For just a few seconds, something electric seemed to spark between them. And then it was gone, but she was breathing quickly.
“Chances. Is that what you call it?” she said, blinking a bit.
He nodded. “Chances between friends. That’s all.”
She frowned at him. “Some friend. Where were you to stop me from marrying Brad?”
The look in his face almost scared her. She’d meant it in a lighthearted way, but being casual about a subject that cut so deep into her soul didn’t really work. Emotions were triggered. Her joke had fallen flat.
“I tried,” he said gruffly, a storm brewing in his blue eyes.
He was kidding—wasn’t he?
“What do you mean?” she asked, trying to ignore the trembling she heard in her own voice.
He leaned back in his chair but his gaze never left hers. “Remember? The night before your wedding.”
She thought back. “Yes. Wait. You didn’t even go to the bachelor party.”
He snorted. “I went. Hell, I was hosting it.” He seemed uncomfortable. “But I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t take all the celebration.”
“Oh.”
“So I went off and left all those happy guys to their revelry. I got a bottle of Scotch and took it to a sandy beach I knew of.”
She nodded slowly, thinking back. “As I remember it, you were pretty tanked when you showed up at my apartment.”
He took a deep breath and let it out. “Yes. Yes, I was. I was a tortured soul.”
“Really? What were you so upset about that night?”
He stared at her. Couldn’t she guess? Was she really so blind? He’d been out of his head with agony that night. He knew what a wonderful girl Jill was, knew it and loved her for it. And he knew Brad wasn’t going to make her happy. But how could he tell her that? How could he betray a friend?
The problem was, he had to betray one of them. They were both his best friends and he couldn’t stand to see them getting married. And at the same time, he didn’t think he should interfere. It was their decision. Their misfortune. Their crazy insane absolutely senseless leap into the brave unknown.
But he knew a thing or two, didn’t he? He knew some things he was pretty sure she didn’t know. But how could he hurt her with them? How could he explain to her about all the times Brad had cheated on her in the years they’d all been friends?
She would chalk it up to pure jealousy, and in a way, she would have been right. He was jealous. He wanted her. He knew Brad didn’t value her enough. He knew Brad didn’t deserve her. But how could he tell her that? How could he tell her the truth without ending up with her despising him more than she now did Brad? If she really did.
Besides, what could he offer her in place of her romance with Brad? He wasn’t even sure he would ever be ready for any sort of full-time, long-term relationship. Every now and then he thought he’d conquered his background and the wariness he felt. But then he would see examples among his friends that just brought it back again. Could you trust another human in the long run? Was it worth the effort, just to be betrayed in the end?
And so—the Scotch. The alcohol was supposed to give him the courage to do what had to be done. But it didn’t work that way. It made him sick instead, and he babbled incoherently once he had Jill’s attention. She never understood what he was trying to say.
He couldn’t even tell her now. She’d asked him a direct question. What was he so upset about that night? And still, he couldn’t tell her the truth.
Because