is coming home,” Georgia said, beaming. “And he’s bringing little Nate with him!”
Lily felt as though her heart had plummeted into her stomach. Max? Coming back to Amarillo? She put her coffee on the counter, afraid her trembling might cause her to spill it. “When…um…when will Max be here?”
Georgia glanced at her wristwatch. “They called from the road not half an hour ago, so they should roll in here any—”
The door burst open and a small boy with curly brown hair exploded into Georgia’s diner. He was the spitting image of Max, right down to the adorable dimples bracketing his wide grin.
“Gramma!” he squealed, arms outstretched as he ran toward Georgia. “Gramma, we’re finally here!”
Georgia hugged him tight, then held his rosy-cheeked face in her hands. “Lemme have a look at my favorite grandson,” she said, pressing a noisy kiss to his chin.
Giggling, Nate said, “How can I be your favorite grandson when I’m your only grandson?” He swiped at the spot his grandmother had kissed. “And second, how can you have a look at me while you’re kissin’ me!”
His grandmother hugged him again. “Four-year-old genius,” she told Lily, “just like his daddy. Yes’m. That’s my boy!”
She glanced toward the door. “Speaking of which, where is your daddy?”
“Parking the car.” Nate’s eyes widened. “You should see all the squished bugs on the front bumper. Must be a million of ’em!”
As Georgia laughed, Lily smiled self-consciously. She had to get out of here, fast, because it would be only a matter of seconds before the genius’s father followed him into the diner. And she had no desire to see Max Sheridan again, not after—
“Actually,” Nate added, “it isn’t ’zactly a car. It’s an Ess Yoo Vee. It’s big and red, like a fire truck. He bought it right before you busted your leg.”
“Broke my leg,” Georgia corrected. “I still think you and your dad should have flown into town, saved all those hours on the road. Especially considering there’s a perfectly good car in the garage that he could’ve—”
“I’m a pencil pusher, not Mr. America,” interrupted a teasing baritone. “What makes you think I could steer that boat of yours?”
It was Max, looking more gorgeous than Lily remembered. Tall and broad-shouldered, he seemed more at ease with himself than when she’d last seen him, more manly and mature. Marriage had done that to him, she supposed. Marriage and fatherhood.
Lily swallowed the lump of jealousy that formed in her throat and asked God to forgive her pettiness, because much as she’d wanted to be the one at his side when those things happened, he’d chosen someone else.
“Max!” Georgia waved him over. “C’mere and give your old fat mama a great big hug!”
He crossed the room in three long strides and bent to wrap his mother in a warm embrace. “First…you’re not fat.”
“I hope you’re gonna say ‘Second…you’re not old.’” She gave him a playful poke in the ribs.
“Do you see ‘Fool’ tattooed to my forehead?” He assumed a serious stance and a pious expression.
They enjoyed a laugh, then Georgia said, “You know my motto.”
“‘God and Nature have decreed that I will age,’” Max quoted, “‘…but I refuse to get old!’”
He crouched beside the footrest of her chair. “So, let’s have a look at this leg of yours.”
While Max inspected his mother’s cast, Lily did her best to sneak out of the diner unnoticed.
“Stop right there!” Georgia hollered.
Lily froze in her tracks, only too aware that all eyes were now on her. Caught in the act!
“Where d’you think you’re going, young lady? You can’t leave ’til you put your John Hancock on my leg!”
Feeling the heat of a blush creep into her cheeks, Lily moved woodenly toward the wheelchair. “Sorry,” she said, accepting Georgia’s felt-tipped pen. “Where would you like me to—”
“Daddy,” interrupted Nate’s hoarse whisper. He tugged at his father’s hand. “She’s bee-yoo-tee-ful!”
Lily chanced a quick glance in Max’s direction. Now he was blushing. Her heartbeat doubled when he met her eyes and smiled that oh-so-tantalizing half grin that had captivated her years ago. She’d changed a lot since he left for Chicago; she hoped he wouldn’t recognize her.
He got to his feet. “Lily? Lily London?”
Yeah, she thought bitterly, it’s me. The silly little twit who used to tag along behind you like a well-trained puppy, hoping for a pat on the head. She plastered what she hoped was a sophisticated smile on her face and tried to sound composed.
“How are you, Max?”
How long had it been since she last saw him? Five years? No, six…if she didn’t count the tens of thousands of times she’d pictured him in her dreams. Six long years since he’d left Amarillo—with his blushing bride on his arm.
“Wow. Look at you! I hardly recognized you. It’s great to see you.”
If he’d given her a thought at all in all these years—which was doubtful—he’d probably pictured her in braces and a ponytail, and carrying an armload of books. Surely the change hadn’t been that drastic, so why was he staring at her as if she had a third eye in the middle of her forehead?
Lily broke the intense eye contact by pretending to recap the pen, but ended up stabbing her palm with the point, instead.
She stifled an ouch, as Georgia said, “Who’da thunk that skinny freckle-faced li’l gal would grow up to be such a knockout!”
Nate took a step closer and smiled up at her. She’d heard through the grapevine that Max and Melissa had had a son. Mostly, she’d tried not to think about the fact that Max had started a life with someone other than her, because she’d loved him almost from the first moment they’d met—when she was a knobby-kneed seventh grader and he’d been Centennial High School’s star quarterback.
“Hi,” the boy said. “My name is Nathan Maxwell Sheridan. Max, here, is my dad. I’m very pleased to make your awk-a-ah…”
“Acquaintance,” his father helped.
“That’s it,” Nate said, nodding, “‘acquaintance.’” He looked up into Lily’s face. “What’s your name?”
“Her name is Lily,” Georgia said. “Lily London.”
“Sounds like a movie star’s name.” He furrowed his brow. “But I thought a lily was a flower.”
“It is,” Lily said, shrugging. “My mother’s
