Heather glanced back at the wall, leaning forward to look at a picture of Josh and a pretty, plump blonde with a happy smile. “Is this Jamie?”

Sue smiled. “Yes. She lives in Nashville with her husband. Usually she comes up for Thanksgiving, but she’s due with my first grandbaby in just a couple weeks.”

“Yeah, Josh mentioned that he went down to visit her.”

“He’s a good boy.”

“They’re close?” Heather asked.

Sue hesitated before answering. “They’re working on it. They used to be inseparable, but after . . . Jamie pulled back a little bit. Josh is working on her though, and I’d like to think they’re close to being back to ­normal.”

After what? It was the second strange reference Sue had made in as many minutes, and Heather felt her curiosity getting the better of her. But before she could ask more, Josh reappeared with two mimosas. “My ladies,” he said, handing them each a crystal champagne flute.

His eyes flicked to the pictures on the wall before narrowing slightly on his mother, but Sue had banished all traces of sadness and had another of those big smiles pasted on her face.

“Where are my manners? Heather, honey, come out of our hallway. You’ll have to help me arrange these lovely flowers while the boys add a zillion calories to our turkey. Off with you, Josh, honey.”

“And miss the girl talk?” he said.

His voice was casual, but Heather could have sworn there was a note of warning in his voice as he looked at his mother. Sue reached out and squeezed his forearm before moving into the kitchen.

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Josh’s shoulders relaxed slightly at whatever silent communication had just passed between mother and son, and he shifted his attention back to Heather. “You good?”

She smiled. “Yeah. I really am.”

“Good.”

He started to leave, but Heather said his name, and he turned back around.

“What’s up?”

“Thanks,” she said, holding his gaze.

“For?” His eyebrows lifted.

“For this,” she said, gesturing to his parents’ home. “For including me. I would have . . . I would have been alone today. And I was pretending that’s what I wanted. But this is nice. It’s better.”

He smiled. “Nobody wants to be alone, 4C.”

He walked away, whistling a premature Christmas song, and Heather stared after him.

Nobody wants to be alone, he’d said.

Strange words from a man who she suspected was more alone than any of them.

Chapter Seventeen

I LIKE HER.”

Josh accepted the dripping platter his mother held out and dried it. “Yes, so you’ve said about a hundred times.”

“You like her, too. Otherwise you wouldn’t have brought her here,” his mom said pointedly, giving him a knowing look as she added another dirty plate to the soapy sink.

“We’re friends, Mom.”

“Mmm-hmm. You’ve never brought a friend around for a holiday dinner before.”

“That’s because the rest of my friends have family,” he said, glancing toward the living room, where Heather sat next to the fire with his father, laughing as they looked through an old photo album that probably had no shortage of pictures of his bare ­toddler butt.

“She mentioned her mom’s from Michigan?” Sue asked.

“Yeah,” Josh said, accepting another plate to dry.

“But they’re not close.”

“No, I think they are,” Josh said, setting the plate on the clean stack. “They talk every Sunday. But her mom didn’t want to come to New York, and I get the impression it bothers Heather.”

“Of course it does. This is her home. I’m sure she wants to share that with her. A pity her mom can’t understand that.”

“Not everyone’s so lucky,” he said, bending down to kiss his mother’s cheek.

Sue rolled her eyes. “You’re buttering me up so that I’ll quit prying into your and Heather’s relationship.”

“Friendship. It’s a friendship,” he corrected, thinking of his sister’s advice.

And the more Josh had thought about it, the more he wondered if friendship is exactly where he should leave it with Heather. He still wanted her—rather desperately. But he also liked her too damn much to leave her. And if he slept with her, there’s no way he could not leave her.




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