actually makes sense. We were pigs, weren’t we?”
She gave him an eye-roll. “I gather you want some assistance with the furnishings?”
He shook his head. “More than that. I need someone to help me find the right place, then furnish it. A woman’s touch would be welcome. I’ve been building basic housing for a long time, living in tents or huts. I don’t know the market at all. But I can hire someone if you’re too swamped.”
“I imagine I can take some time out of my busy schedule for an old friend.”
He slapped back the rest of his beer and met her gaze again. He was going to be living in the same house as this newly sexualized Shannon, in the room next to hers. He might as well get this out so he could get on with things. “You’re still a beauty,” he said, his low voice carrying over a sad Irish love song. “More now than when you were in all those crazy pageants. You must have every man with a heartbeat after you, Princess. Every one.”
The blush that blossomed on her cheeks spread like a light show. He used to make her blush as a parlor trick, something that would make her furious and hopefully storm off to her room. Now he found the contrast of her pale skin and the fire of her emotions far too fascinating.
“You’re going to cause trouble, aren’t you, Nate Brenner?” she asked, just loudly enough for him to hear.
“As much as humanly possible,” he admitted. Then he smiled, because what the hell else was there to do about it? “Will you excuse me?”
“Sure,” she said, her look suspicious.
Close to the bar he decided beer wasn’t going to cut it. He ordered a boilermaker and drank it down right there on the spot.
“IS HE?”
Shannon almost dropped her glass at the whisper behind her. It was Ariel, who didn’t seem at all sorry for sneaking up on her like a thief. “Is who what?”
“Single.” Ariel had to lift her head to see Nate standing with Danny in the midst of the crowd. Midnight, and hardly anyone had left the now stifling room.
“Yes, he is,” Shannon said. “But he’s not here for long.”
“He doesn’t have to be. All I’d need is one night.”
Shannon frowned at her cousin. She’d been sweating—everyone was—and dark tendrils of hair were stuck to her face and neck. The way Ariel gasped for breath was more a result of the dancing she’d been up to than her interest in Nate … Still, Shannon could be mistaken about that. Ariel looked ready to pounce.
“If I do put him on a card, you’ll have to be quick. It’s first come, first served.”
“Did you see how I caught the bouquet?” she asked. “I hate being single. I honestly do. It’s a pity your guy isn’t going to be around for the long haul. I like his laugh. That’s huge for me. A sense of humor. You can get through most anything if you can find something to laugh about.”
“You met him?”
Ariel sighed. “I did. He was great. But he was very involved in a conversation with Danny. Evidently I wasn’t enough to distract him.”
“Let me guess,” Shannon said. “Notre Dame?”
Ariel rolled her eyes. “I swear, I could have stripped right down to nothing and neither of them would have blinked.”
“I doubt that. But I don’t think they’ve seen each other since college. All those games to catch up on.”
“At least he was funny.”
“Humor’s on the top of my list, too,” Shannon said. “Along with shared values. And kindness.”
“Don’t forget great in the sack,” Ariel said, still craning her neck to gaze at Nate.
“I can’t help you with that one.”
“You’ve never …?”
“No. Nothing remotely like that.”
“Pity.”
“Not really. He left when I was thirteen.”
“God, it’s broiling in here. Can’t they open some windows?”
“I don’t think it’ll help. There’s a hundred and fifty drunk people dancing like fools.”
Ariel grinned at her. “It’s wonderful, isn’t it? I want my wedding to be just like this. Friendly, open. Plenty of booze and good food. If I ever have a wedding.”
“That’s what the trading cards are for.” Shannon thought about how Rebecca Thorpe and Jake Donnelly were living together now. Part-time in Brooklyn and part-time in the Upper East Side. Shannon had the feeling they’d end up married. They were wildly in love.
“You, too, huh?”
Shannon must have let her envy show. “Yes, I would very much like to be married. So far my dates have been fun. But no magic.”
Ariel shook her head. “Sometimes I wonder if magic is too much to hope for.”
“Of course it’s not,” Shannon said. “A little bit of magic is in every good love story. I’m sure of it.”
THE BROWNSTONE WAS A RELIC of a New York long gone. All three stories in the row house belonged to the Fitzgerald family, and since the third grade it had been more a home to Nate than his own.
At noon, the taxi pulled away, leaving him with his suitcase and duffel bag. The traditional wedding hangover lingered, but even so, approaching the red door on 3rd Avenue in Gramercy Park made him feel like a kid. The last time he’d been there had been pre-NYU. Before Danny went to study graphic design in Boston.
He banged on the knocker, the one Mr. Fitz had replaced after the Baseball Incident. Nate liked this one better. It was in the shape of a shillelagh, and it was loud.
Mrs. Fitz opened the door and, yeah, he was ten again, or fourteen, or eight, and all the years in between and around because she looked the same to him. Her hair was mostly gray now, but for a pale woman who seemingly had more freckles than skin, he saw remarkably few signs of the passing years. Then there was her frown. She wore it most of the time, and it put some people off. But he knew better. That was Danny’s mom, worrying about her brood. She’d always said life in her house was most frightening when it got quiet, and she’d been right.
“Get a move on, Nathan—” and there was a hint of a brogue even though she’d been born and raised in New York “—you’re letting in all the flies.”
He dragged his rolled case and duffel bag across the threshold into the entry hall, then put the duffel on the big wooden bench, almost expecting his snow boots to be underneath on the boot mat. “It’s good to be home,” he said.
When he turned to smile at Mrs. Fitz, she was smiling right back, a rare and wonderful sight. “As long as we live here, boyo.”
He wanted to throw his arms
