"Good girl," she said with a grin. "Good girls get ice cream."

He wanted to give in. He really did. And the little pout on her mouth was just too cute. "Compromise. I'll dish up the ice cream. You bring your math sheet to the table, and we'll do it at the same time."

"Okay," she said, skipping from the room.

He was a complete pushover, he decided, taking their dinner dishes to the kitchen sink. As he rinsed off the plates, he noticed that the garbage disposal was slow. He'd have to fix that.

His heart felt heavy as he realized he had no business fixing the disposal or even worrying about it. He and his wife were separated, on their way to a divorce. Three months ago he'd been living in this house, enjoying the kitchen he'd remodeled with his own hands, sleeping in the king-size bed they'd splurged on two years ago, kissing his daughter good night and waking up with Alli hogging all the covers.

He sucked in a breath and let it out slow. He didn't miss Alli. He just missed his life. He couldn't miss her. She was the one responsible for the G.o.d-awful mess that had become their lives.

As he turned off the faucet, the doorbell rang. He walked into the living room and opened the door, expecting to see one of the neighbors on the step. But it wasn't a neighbor, it was Tessa, and his heart turned over in his chest, making it difficult to breathe.

"Hi," she said softly.

"What are you doing here?"

"Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure, come in."

She shook her head. "I don't think so."

"I can't leave. Megan is inside, and she'll probably be out here in a second."

"Maybe this was a mistake. I'm sorry." Her hair tumbled across her shoulders as she shook her head in indecision.

"What's wrong? Did you see Alli?"

"Yes."

She stared at him as if she'd never seen him before. What on earth had Alli said to her?

"I have to ask you something," she began, then stopped abruptly.

"What?"

"Do you still- Never mind. I shouldn't have come."

"Tessa, wait." He grabbed her arm.

She looked at him through big, blue, watery eyes, and he could no more let her go than he could stop himself from breathing. "What do you want to ask me?"

"Daddy?" Megan called out.

Tessa's arm jerked under his hand. "I can't do this."

He hung on to her, unwilling to let her go. "Wait. I'll be right there, honey," he called out to Megan, then stepped onto the porch and pulled the door closed behind him. "Tell me what's wrong."

She lifted her head, studying his face with an expression of pure confusion. He'd never seen her look so-lost.

"This is the house you and Alli bought after Megan was born, isn't it? Grams told me it was nice. Just what Alli always wanted, a white house with green shutters and window boxes filled with flowers, and even a front porch with a swing." She looked over at the white wicker two-seater swing. "It's perfect."

"You didn't come here to talk about the house."

"No, but right now it seems like a better idea. I'm tired." She tucked her hair behind her ear. "Really tired. And worried about Grams. She woke up, but she couldn't talk. It scared me. And then Alli started saying all these confusing things, and I never know what's real and what's in her head."

"What did she say?"

Tessa hesitated. "Did you miss me, Sam? I mean, did you ever think about me after we broke up?"

"Of course I did. How could I not?"

"I tried not to think about you. I threw myself into my life. I thought if I could run really fast, I'd get far enough away that I wouldn't be able to look back. And it was working pretty well, until now."

He knew exactly what she meant, for hadn't he done the same thing, pouring himself into his new family? But time had come to a crashing halt when Alli asked for a divorce. Now, with Phoebe's stroke and Tessa's return, he no longer knew how he was supposed to feel, what he was supposed to do.

The door creaked open behind him, and his daughter's head peeked out.

"Daddy? Who's here?"

He stepped aside, putting his arm around Megan's shoulders as he pulled her onto the porch. He was both relieved and disappointed by the interruption. There were things he and Tessa needed to say to each other. Then again, perhaps there were things better left unsaid.

"Aunt Tessa," Megan said with delight.

"Hi, Megan."

"Did you come to have ice cream with us?"

"Tessa just came by to tell me about Grams," Sam interrupted. "Phoebe woke up for a little while. That's good news."

"Then we should celebrate with ice cream," Megan replied.

Sam couldn't help but laugh. "My daughter has a one-track mind."

His comment drew a reluctant smile from Tessa. "Her mother's daughter?"

"Oh, yeah."

And they shared a connection that took him back to a time and a place where they'd always known what the other was going to say before it was said.

Megan jumped between them, grabbed Tessa's hand, and pulled her into the house as Sam slowly followed. "Can I get you some ice cream?" he asked Tessa as he walked into the kitchen.

"No, thanks. I don't eat ice cream."

"Since when?"

"Since a long time ago. The camera adds pounds. I can't afford any extra."

"I think you look too thin," he said as he put two scoops of ice cream in a bowl for Megan.

Her face tightened at his blunt comment. "A model can never be too thin."

"Right." He still thought she looked like a good stiff wind might blow her away. But he knew that discussing weight with a woman would only end in disaster. He gave Megan her ice cream, then sat down in the chair across from Tessa, keeping Megan between them. "How long are you staying in town?"

"As long as Grams needs me."

"You don't have any pressing business?"

"I do, but Grams is more important." She drew an idle circle on top of the tablecloth with the tip of her rosy pink fingernail.

Sam watched the graceful but nervous movement for a long minute. "Phoebe must have been happy to see you when she opened her eyes."

Tessa shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not sure I even registered. I didn't know what to do when she couldn't talk. I sort of panicked. Then Alli walked in and took over."

"You saw Mommy?" Megan asked, as she quickly downed the ice cream.

"Yes."

"Mommy said I could stay up until she got home."

"She did not say that," Sam said sternly. "In fact, you need to do your math problems. Why don't you get started on them upstairs, and I'll be up in a minute to help you."

"Now?" Megan whined.

"Now." He smiled at Tessa as Megan left the kitchen. "She can think up more excuses to stall than anyone I know."

"You're a good dad."

"Thank you. But it's not hard to be good for fifteen minutes. You should have seen us a while ago. Megan told me she didn't like me anymore and she wanted her mommy."

"She didn't say that."

"She did. But we both knew she didn't mean it." He paused for a moment. "Are you all right, Tessa?"

"I don't know. I think I've been awake too long." It was a prevarication, but she wasn't sure what else to say.

"You should go home, get some sleep."

"I will. I don't really like being in Grams's house alone, though. There are so many memories there, and when I look in her room, I can see her, and I can hear her, and it scares me that she might not be there again."

He reached across the table and covered her hand with his, and her emotions almost bubbled over. She hadn't cried in years, but Lord, she felt like giving in, letting down. And Sam's gentle touch on her hand was almost too much.

She blinked rapidly and took a deep breath, wishing she'd had the courage to ask him the question that had driven her from the hospital to his house. But how could she ask him straight out-Do you still love me? How could she do that, sitting here in his house, the house he'd bought with Alli, and with her sister's daughter upstairs waiting for her father? However Sam felt about her now wasn't important.

Tessa got to her feet and stretched her arms over her head.

"I should go."

Sam stood up as well. "You never did tell me what Alli said to you."

"It's late. I don't want to get into that now."

He stepped forward. "Are you sure? If you have something to say..."

He was so close, tall, strong, real. It would be easy to move into his arms, rest her head on his shoulder the way she'd done a thousand times. This was Sam, her Sam. When she looked into his eyes, she saw the boy she'd once loved more than anyone on earth.

"What happened to us?" she murmured. "How did we let it go so easily?"

His expression filled with guilt. She wondered if he would ever look at her with any other emotion.

"Oh, Tessa," he muttered. "I'm sorry."

She didn't know if he was apologizing for the past or apologizing for now, but it didn't matter, because somehow her feet were moving and her arms were sliding around his neck and her head was resting on his shoulder, the cotton fabric of his T-shirt warm against her cheek.

He didn't say anything and for that she was intensely grateful. It was enough to be with him, breathing in his scent, feeling his body, so familiar, yet new, too. He wasn't a boy any longer, but a man. And it was that thought that reminded her what they were doing was wrong. They weren't friends anymore. And they weren't supposed to be holding each other.

"Sam, I want-"

"Don't," he said sharply, stepping away so abruptly her hands fell to her sides.

"Don't what?" she asked in surprise, wondering why his mood had changed so drastically. And then she saw it in his eyes, on his face, the wariness, the distancing. "What did you think I was going to say-going to do?"

"Nothing," he said quickly.

"It was definitely something. Did you-did you think I was going to kiss you?" she asked, taking a shot in the dark. To her surprise, a dark color flooded his cheeks. "You did. You actually did. That had to be the last thing on my mind," she lied, because the idea hadn't been that far away.

"You should go home, Tessa."

She stared at him, annoyed that he seemed to feel she was pursuing him, when he was the one who'd said he was sorry and had been sending out all sorts of mixed messages. He hadn't exactly run from her embrace.

"Maybe I don't want to go home yet," she said, just to be contrary.

"Go anyway."

Sam walked out of the kitchen, leaving her alone in the middle of the room. "Sam," she called after him, but he didn't return.

Resisting the sudden childish urge to stamp her foot, Tessa took a deep breath and counted to ten. As she did so, she took a good look around the room, and saw exactly what she didn't want to see-the signs of a family. There was evidence everywhere, from the dish towels that said HOME, SWEET HOME to the crayon drawings and photographs on the refrigerator, a stray belt on the counter, and a stack of bills on a small desk in the corner of the kitchen. Megan's shoes and socks had obviously been kicked off in a hurry under the round oak table in the breakfast nook.

Sam was right. She didn't belong here. She needed to get away and fast, before she started thinking about how this life could have been hers, how that little girl upstairs could have belonged to her and Sam, and the calendar on the wall could have had their dates written on it, their life, their plans.

She hadn't wanted this life, Tessa reminded herself. A small house in a small town had never been her dream. In fact, she'd spent many a day dreaming of a future far away from Tucker's Landing. But now that she'd come back, she realized how much she'd missed having a home, a real home, not a luxury apartment forty-two stories in the sky, but a house with creaks and groans and rusted pipes and peeling wallpaper.

She could see Alli in every crumb on the linoleum, every hastily scribbled recipe on a card falling out of a cookbook, every plate, every gla.s.s. This was Alli's home, Alli's life, and Sam was Alli's husband. At least he used to be.

"Tessa?" Sam stood in the doorway again, keeping his distance, his hands solidly in his pockets to prevent any accidental touch.

"I know, I'm going."