“Our kid is a damned good musician.”

Gillian nodded and sipped her tea. “He is. I used to always think he got it from me, but apparently not so much.”

“Why not from both of us? You’re an incredibly talented piano player. You have a design business, which is also very creative. The boy gets all sorts of artsy stuff from each of us.”

He liked when she revealed these small bits about herself. She was so reserved and guarded about her past that it was often a trial to get her to share things about her past.

“Tell me something about yourself. Something I don’t know.”

“Like what?”

The firelight on her skin only made her more beautiful as she turned to smile up at him.

“Anything.”

“Miles didn’t walk until he was fifteen months old and I was so freaked out that I’d messed up and he was delayed that my gran and Miles’s doctor both had to shake some sense into me and tell me he was just fine. About three weeks later, he took his first step and was pretty much climbing, running and giving me a heart attack with all the new danger he could get into.”

He laughed, imagining this buttoned-up woman in a panic about something like that.

“When did you walk? I mean, were you an early or a late walker? Apparently I was super early. Brody says it was to keep up with Erin, which is probably the truth.”

“I believe it. You and your sister are partners in crime. I can only imagine what you two were like as children. I like that you’re all three northwesterners, born and bred. This is my favorite part of the country out here with the trees and the water.”

“I lived in L.A. for a decade. I’m there enough still, to deal with business stuff. I love the beach and the sun, but Seattle always calls me back. I can be quiet here, you know?”

She nodded. “I do. This is the place I decided to raise my baby. On purpose. I’ve just always felt at home here.”

“Do you miss England?”

She shrugged. “There are things I do miss, yes. But this has been my home for longer than England was. I’m British at heart in many ways, but Miles is so much more American than I am.”

“You never thought of going back?”

She blew out a long breath and he knew they were reaching that place where she got more and more stingy with her past.

“For the first little while I used to imagine going back when I was an adult. But really? Everyone I care about is here. My child. At the time my grandmother, and then school. I haven’t been back since we left.”

“We should take Miles. He should see that part of his roots.”

“That has nothing to do with him. His roots are here. With me and with you.” Her voice had tautened, gotten clipped, and he knew she’d be less and less willing to share after this point.

“You can trust me, you know. I understand enough that you didn’t always have the best childhood. But how can I know you if you don’t let me in?”

“None of that has anything to do with Miles. Or with you and me. It has nothing to do with trust and everything to do with me not wanting to talk about or give it any more time and emotion. I’m done with that part of my life.”

And how could he argue with that, really? She’d told him about Miles, some about herself, and in doing that, she’d exposed herself to him, made herself vulnerable.

“Fair enough.” He put an arm around her, pulling her closer. “Just, you know, don’t stop sharing. I like getting to know you. I’m not going to judge you. You’re safe telling me things.”

13

Several days later, Adrian sat in his car on the ferry. He’d seen them only a few days before, but he wanted to see them today too. Wanted to see how Miles’s day had gone at school. Wanted to know how his math test went.

Craved the sight of Gillian, the smooth tones of her words and then the sharp burr when she got agitated or pissed off.

And she most likely would be when he told her what he’d done. But it was his right as a father, for f**k’s sake! He wanted to do for his son. Wanted to do for Gillian too, damn it.

Maybe he’d call first. Yeah. That would be better. Butter her up. He called her cell and she answered right away.

“Hey there, English. Busy?”

“Hello there, yourself. Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. I have to call you back, I’m in the middle of something just now.”

He heard people talking in the background about a carburetor. “Can I help? I’m actually calling you from the ferry.” He’d wait to tell her in person; she sounded agitated and he wanted to fix it.

“No. No. I’ll meet you at the house. You have a key.”

“Gillian, are you having car trouble again?”

“I’ll see you shortly.” And then she hung up!

He considered calling her back, but thought better of it. He already pushed the lines as it was. However, if her car was broken down, he’d be damned if she thought she would walk home or get a ride from some stranger when he was already on his way.

Though, he realized as he drove off the ferry and headed toward town, he didn’t know where the mechanic was. It was only ten in the morning, so he drove toward Tart.

Jules Lamprey was a nice woman. He liked her and he really liked how protective she was of Miles and Gillian. He’d met her a few times, including a rather amazing dinner the Friday before hosted by another one of Gillian’s friends.

She looked surprised when he came in, and then wary.