Flowers on Main

“More’s the pity.”

“So, do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

She shrugged. “What else is new? You haven’t wanted to talk about Bree for six years. Now, personally, I think you’d get her out of your system a whole lot faster if you’d rant and rave and tell the universe exactly what you think about her.”

“Bree is out of my system,” he insisted. And what he thought of her wasn’t fit for saying aloud. “I broke up with her, remember?”

Connie gave him a sympathetic look, the kind that made him want to break things.

“You may have said the words, Jake, but she broke your heart long before that. Don’t even try to deny it. I was here. I saw what it did to you when she left for Chicago. And something tells me there was a whole lot more to the story than you’ve ever admitted.”

“I do not want to discuss this,” he reminded her fiercely. “I mean it, Connie. The subject of Bree is off-limits. If you bring up her name again, I’ll fire you.”

“No, you won’t,” she said serenely. “But I’ll drop it for now. Or at least I will after you’ve answered one question for me. What are you going to do if she’s back here to stay?”

“Bree’s a hotshot playwright in Chicago. She’s not staying, so it’s not going to be an issue.” Please God, let me be right about that.

“I’m just asking, what if—”

Jake cut her off. “Drop it, Connie. I mean it.”

She sighed. “Consider it dropped, for now anyway. Are you coming for dinner tonight?”

Ever since her divorce five years ago, he usually had dinner with Connie and his seventeen-year-old niece two or three times a week. A good deal for him, Jake acknowledged, because his sister’s cooking was a whole lot better than his. So was their company most of the time. It seemed best to steer clear tonight, though, with the whole conversation about Bree still a little too fresh. If Connie could pester the daylights out of him, his niece was worse. Jenny Louise thought his love life “sucked,” and considered it her own personal mission to point that out to him on a regular basis. If she’d caught wind of the incident at Sally’s, he’d never hear the end of it.

“No,” he told Connie flatly.

“I’m fixing your favorite—meat loaf and mashed potatoes and fresh green beans.”

Jake almost regretted turning her down. Not only was the meal his all-time favorite, but nobody made it better than his sister. She used their mom’s old meat-loaf recipe, complete with mushroom gravy. Unfortunately, he knew in this instance, it also came with a scoop of sisterly advice and a side of meddling from Jenny Louise.

“No, thanks,” he said.

Connie studied him for what seemed like an eternity, then nodded. “Okay, then, I’ll save you some and bring it in tomorrow,” she said at last. “You can have it for dinner tomorrow night.”

“I won’t turn that down.” He walked around the desk and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Thanks, sis.”

“I could bring enough for two,” she said, her expression innocent. “You know, in case you wanted to have someone over.”

Jake frowned. “I’m not talking about Bree, I’m not talking to Bree, so I’m sure as hell not inviting her over for dinner.”

A satisfied grin spread across Connie’s face. “Did I say a single word about Bree?” she inquired, then answered her own question. “I did not. The fact that you immediately leaped to that conclusion speaks volumes not only about your obsession with her, but the absence of any other woman in your life.”

On that note, she sashayed out the door, apparently very pleased with herself. Jake would have thrown something after her, but he figured she’d just take that as more proof that she was right.

Which she was, damn it all to hell.

There was a big, noisy deli on the corner a few blocks down the street from Megan’s condo. She made it a point to stop there on her way home from work whenever the prospect of the silence in her apartment didn’t appeal to her. With Abby and the twins now living in Chesapeake Shores instead of just a few dozen blocks away here in New York, she was at loose ends more often than she liked.

She was almost to the deli’s door when she glanced through the window and spotted Mick sitting at a table sipping coffee. Shock stopped her in her tracks. Her heart flipped over in her chest, just the way it had the first time she’d met him more than thirty-five years ago. How was it possible to still feel that rush of emotion after all these years, especially with a bitter divorce and fifteen years of separation behind them?

When she’d felt a little twinge of affection—okay, more than a twinge and more than affection—a few weeks ago, she’d blamed it on being back in Chesapeake Shores surrounded by family, if only for a few days. Of course she’d felt a little sentimental. Today, right here in New York where she’d made a new life for herself, the rush of emotion caught her completely off guard. It was also a whole lot more worrisome. She’d never tried to deny that she still loved Mick. But she also knew it was folly to consider going back to him. No matter what Abby believed, Megan knew he hadn’t changed, not enough anyway.

As she debated with herself whether to go or stay, he glanced up and caught sight of her. A smile broke across his face and in that instant, she was lost. No one had ever looked at her the way Mick did, as if the sun rose and set with her.

She gave him a little wave, then went inside. Drawing in a deep, calming breath, she prepared herself to face him without losing control of her emotions or the situation. She was a smart, accomplished woman. It ought to be easy enough.

Ever the gentleman, Mick stood as she approached. His kiss grazed her cheek, but then he pulled back, looking as embarrassed as a schoolboy caught stealing a kiss in the cloakroom.

“Sorry,” he murmured as he slid into the booth opposite her.

She regarded him with amusement. “It’s okay, Mick. There’s nothing inappropriate about giving your ex-wife an innocent peck on the cheek. Now tell me, of all the delis in New York, what brings you to the one in my neighborhood?”

He gestured toward the cell phone in the middle of the table. “I was going to call you. I thought maybe we could grab dinner, if you don’t have plans.”

So he had come to see her, she thought, not sure whether she was pleased by that or more terrified than ever.

When she still hadn’t responded after a couple of minutes of silence, he regarded her with an impatient expression. “Do you have plans?”

She shook her head, determined not to make it easy for him or maybe struggling to decide if spending more time with him was wise.

He obviously had some idea of what she was up to because he frowned. “Then will you have dinner with me?” he inquired with exaggerated patience.

Since she’d planned to eat right here anyway, she finally nodded. “Sure, we can grab a bite here.”

He glanced around the deli with its rush of customers and clattering silverware, with its legion of abrasive waitresses and waiters. “Here? I was thinking someplace, you know, a little classier than this.”

“I eat here a lot,” she said. “The food’s good. Besides, we’re already here.”

The last place she wanted to be with her ex-husband was some cozy, romantic restaurant with expensive wine, an even pricier menu and candlelight. That was the kind of place a man took a woman he was courting. Casual was good, safer. She could pretend this was nothing more than a chance meeting of two longtime acquaintances.

Acquaintances who happened to share five children, she amended wryly.

Mick shrugged eventually. “Whatever you want.” He beckoned for a waiter, an older man who beamed at Megan.

“Your Monday usual, Ms. O’Brien?” he asked with the familiarity she’d come to expect from the staff. “Iced tea, the corned-beef brisket and parsley potatoes?”

“Sounds perfect, Joe. How’s your wife?”

“Back to her old self,” he said. “Thanks for asking.”

“And Mary? Did she get her grade on her exam?”

The man’s smile spread. “An A plus,” he told her proudly.

Megan turned to Mick, who was listening to the exchange with obvious surprise. “Joe’s granddaughter is studying to be a doctor at Columbia.”