Kept Page 4

  Garrett bent down to kiss her, and Dillan looked away, right at Adrienne—who watched with some sort of odd interest—and then at Miska. She studied Tracy, mouth tight, shoulders stiff.

  What was this— Oh, right. Maybe he and Garrett weren’t the only ones who’d noticed Tracy’s resemblance to Mark Scheider’s wife.

  Tracy smiled up at Garrett, talking softly. He shrugged as he took the bags of food, then led her back to where he’d been standing so closely to Adrienne. “This is my fiancée, Tracy.” He nodded at Miska. “And our neighbor, Miska.”

  “So nice to meet you.” Tracy held out a hand, and Miska took it. “Just a few more months, and we’ll officially be neighbors.”

  Miska flashed her a smile, the tension gone.

  “And this is Adrienne, babe. They’re sisters.”

  Tracy turned to Adrienne, and the smile on Miska’s face faded. She ran a finger along her temple, then glanced at Dillan.

  He forced his attention back on Tracy. Stink. Caught looking. Hopefully she didn’t think he’d been checking her out.

  ’Cause he hadn’t been.

  “You should join us for dinner,” Tracy was saying.

  Dillan blinked and straightened.

  Fake friendliness registered on Adrienne’s face. “We couldn’t.”

  “I bought a ton. Really. There’s plenty for everyone. The more the merrier, right?”

  Did Tracy, Garrett, anyone but him see the condescension behind that woman’s smile?

  Adrienne sent her sister the slightest eye roll. “Miska and I already have plans for the—”

  “Actually, I don’t.” Miska crossed her arms and smiled at Tracy. “I’ve got some work to catch up on. Dinner sounds great. What can I bring?”

  Tracy grinned. “Just yourself. I’ve got it all here.”

  “Okay then.” Miska gave Tracy a forceful nod. “Thanks.”

  Adrienne almost glared at her sister.

  “Well.” Miska patted her shoulder. “I don’t want to keep you. Have fun without me.”

  “Always do.” The fake smile crossed the woman’s face again. “Very nice meeting you all.”

  Yeah, right. Dillan opened the door, escaped inside.

  Except it wasn’t an escape, not with Miska joining them.

  With a sigh he opened a kitchen cabinet and grabbed four plates. At least he wouldn’t be a third wheel.

  *****

  For being Darcie Scheider’s twin, Tracy whatever-her-name was all right.

  Even better, as dinner went on, Tracy looked less and less like Darcie and more like her own person. Tracy’s hair was long with big, loose curls, a lot like Darcie’s had been until she chopped it last month.

  For whatever reason, this girl was just nice.

  Miska passed the Triple Delight to Dillan, who dished seconds onto his fried rice. No wonder the guy ran every day. He and Garrett could both pack it away. But when one was six foot thirteen, one probably needed a lot of food.

  Dillan glanced at her and did a double take. “Need anything?”

  Not a thing. “A fortune cookie, maybe?”

  He handed her one from the pile beside him.

  “You have to read it out loud,” Garrett said.

  Tracy nodded. “So we can laugh.” Her fortune had said she should avoid taking that long trip which led to her bugging Garrett about where they were going for their honeymoon.

  After removing the wrapper, Miska cracked the cookie and pulled out the slip of paper. The words made her blink.

  “Read it,” Tracy said.

  “‘You will soon inherit great fortune.’”

  Garrett and Tracy chuckled. Dillan raised an eyebrow and returned to his food.

  “What do you think, Miska? Any lump sums of money in your future?” Tracy asked.

  If they only knew. “Let’s hope.”

  Garrett picked up his own cookie and tossed another to Dillan who caught it against his chest. “Bet I know what yours says, Dill. Something about ducking. Or taking a nice trip.”

  Garrett didn’t let up, did he? “How tall are you?” she asked.

  Dillan tore open the wrapper. “Six nine.”

  Six nine? No wonder Mark looked small beside him.

  Dillan read the strip of paper. “Get ready, Gare. Softball coming. ‘Love is in your future.’”

  Tracy aahed, and Garrett snickered, nudging Dillan with his elbow. “Mom and Dad do get back from Florida tomorrow.”

  Dillan smirked and tossed the paper onto Garrett’s plate. “Looks like I got yours.”

  So Dillan was single? She pushed the thought away. “Your parents are snowbirds?”

  Garrett nodded. “Dillan house-sits for them while they’re gone.”

  “Miska, what about you?”

  She forced her gaze to Tracy. “Me?”

  “Do you have family in Chicago? Other than Adrienne?”

  “Some. We don’t see each other much.”

  “Is Adrienne your only sister?” Garrett asked.

  Dillan stilled.

  Why had that question grabbed him? Miska forced herself not to look at him. He’d all but ignored Adrienne. He couldn’t be interested in her. “I have two brothers and six half-brothers and sisters. Adrienne’s the only one I see.”

  “Now that’s my concern with my brothers.” Tracy looked at Garrett. “I know guys are different this way, but I can’t imagine only seeing my brothers a couple times a year, you know? Is it their decision not to get together or yours?”

  Garrett shifted. “Tracy.”

  “I’m sorry. That was too personal, wasn’t it? I just get going sometimes—”

  “It’s okay.” When was the last time she’d talked to her brothers, much less seen them? “We aren’t close. Some stuff…” She waved it away. “My father only stayed with a woman long enough to have a kid or two. I don’t really know any of my half-siblings except for Adrienne and her brother, Alec. And Alec never liked me. So it’s just been Adrienne and me, I guess.”

  They stared at her. Which meant they had perfect families.

  So why not bare it all? Shock ’em good? “Actually I just heard from my dad this morning. First time since I was two.”

  “Since you were two?” Tracy grabbed her hand. “That’s not right.”

  “I know.” She looked Tracy in the eye. This one couldn’t hide her thoughts if she tried. “Is it wrong that I want to get to know him?”

  Tracy shook her head emphatically. “Of course not.”

  “That’s what I think. Adrienne hates him, though.”

  “And you’re caught in the middle.”

  Story of her life.

  “Miska, you’ll always regret it if you don’t get to know him. I would. Sure, it’s been a long time. I get why your sister would be angry. But if he’s coming back now, he deserves another chance.” She faced the guys. “Right?”

  Miska looked at Dillan.

  He’d leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, gaze locked onto his plate.

  Great, she’d shared too much. “I shouldn’t have bored you guys with this.”

  “No.” Tracy grabbed her hand again. “You have to talk to him. If Adrienne’s trying to keep you from him, she’s wrong, although I’m sure she means well. He’s your dad. You should meet him.”

  Dillan nodded his support. Garrett did the same.

  “Okay then.” She released a small laugh. Tracy was right. Adrienne was being unreasonable. “We made dinner plans for next week. Guess I won’t break them.”

  Tracy grinned at her. “Definitely not. Go have fun.”

  As the conversation moved to other things, Miska found herself loosening up with these new neighbors. How different Garrett and Dillan were from her brothers. They’d have been all over the new girl at their table. Of course Garrett was engaged, but that had never stopped Wade or Zane.

  Even quiet, serious Dillan lightened up, reminding her of the guy who’d joked after wiping out that morning. Something about him appealed.
What was it?

  He was so tall, tall enough that it compensated for the serious lines that cut across his forehead, for the tight way he held his mouth. For the way he only spoke when spoken to and focused more on his food than on the company. If he were to cut loose and laugh, relax more and smile, he could be a good-looking man. She’d seen it that morning. And if he ever let a woman run her fingers through that dark hair, mess it up a bit—

  Dillan glanced at her.

  Could he read thoughts?

  He scraped the last of his rice onto his fork.

  She’d caught him watching her in the hallway after Tracy arrived. Maybe his fortune cookie had it right. Maybe…

  While Garrett joked about something that had happened at work, she shifted in her chair, arching her back as if she were stiff, making sure the V-neck of her shirt dipped just low enough.

  Dillan glanced her way, eyes landing right where she wanted.

  But he jerked his gaze away as if he’d been stung. He scooted his chair back and leaned his elbows on his knees, gave her the back of his head, and focused on Garrett.

  What on earth was that? What, was he gay?

  Garrett’s eyes flickered from her back to Tracy, who had no idea what had just happened, her attention glued to her fiancé. What had just happened? What guy turned down a peek?

  Dillan stood and grabbed his plate, silverware, and empty rice boxes. He reached for her plate, then paused, his gaze never leaving the table. “You finished?”

  “Oh. I am.” She handed him the plate. “Thank you. I’ll pack up the leftovers.”

  Tracy shook her head. “You don’t need to do that.”

  Miska waved off Tracy’s words and put lids over the orange chicken and chicken with broccoli. She followed Dillan around the island.

  He glanced at her from where he rinsed silverware in the sink. “You can put those in the fridge.”

  “Sure.” She opened the stainless steel door. A pristine white interior greeted her, along with a gallon of milk, a twelve-pack of Dr Pepper, apples, bread, mayonnaise, lunch meat, and processed cheese. “Wow. I think this doubles your refrigerator contents.”

  Dillan smiled at the silverware. “Tracy, you’re doing this every night, right?”

  “Sorry, Dillan. Got to find your own girl.”

  His own girl? So he wasn’t gay?

  She closed the fridge.

  Tracy set two more containers of leftovers on the island. Miska grabbed them and turned, bumping into Dillan who’d somehow ended up behind her.

  He stepped back, hands raised. “Sorry.”

  “My fault.” She stacked the food in the fridge and closed it again. Now what?

  Garrett and Tracy talked in low tones, Garrett wearing that flirty grin that seemed to go everywhere he did. Dillan leaned against the counter and stuffed his hands in his pockets. His body language said uncomfortable.

  He was right; she’d stayed too long.

  She slipped past him and rounded the island where Garrett and Tracy could see her. They both looked up. “I need to head out. Thanks so much for dinner.”

  “You’re going?” Tracy asked.

  “I am. Have some things to do yet. But thanks for inviting me. I enjoyed it.”

  Tracy stood and wrapped her arms around Miska. “Me too. We’ll have to do it again sometime.”

  Relax. Tracy was one of those women who thought everyone wanted a hug. Normally she would, but not from someone she’d just met. Tracy released her, and Miska stretched her mouth into a smile. “Sounds great.” She said good-bye to Garrett and Dillan and walked down the hallway toward the front door.

  Dillan followed.

  She opened the door, glancing into the closest bedroom as she did. A cheap desk and computer chair, a simple bookcase filled with what looked like textbooks and reference books.

  He reached above her and held the condo door open.

  She smiled up at him. “So that’s where the magic happens, hmm?”

  “The magic.” He tugged his earlobe. “Yeah, we’ll go with that.”

  She laughed, and he smiled with her. “You have a good night, Miska.”

  So he wanted her to go. A decent-looking, single man who had no interest in her. “’Bye.”

  “’Bye.”

  She slipped through the doorway, and the door closed behind her. No lingering. No flirting. Nothing.

  Engaged Garrett was more flirtatious than Dillan.

  She pulled her keys out of her pocket and unlocked her door. The evening had somehow left her feeling flat. What time was it? Eight? What did she have to look forward to? The gym? Writing a new post for her blog? Mark’s game that was recording?

  She checked her phone for the twentieth time that day. Still nothing from Mark. Of course he couldn’t have called since she’d last checked, not with his team playing.

  Her couch beckoned, and Miska obeyed, her hand finding the remote, the on button, and Mark’s recorded game that had started an hour ago. She curled up in the couch’s cool leather embrace and scrolled through the footage, checking every view of the dugout for Mark since he wasn’t pitching.

  There he was, leaning against the padded dugout railing, an inning later back-pounding a guy who’d homered, and, when the game ended an hour and a half later, lining up with the rest of the team near the third-base line to high-five each other.

  She grabbed her phone and texted him. Miss you, love. Can’t wait until you get back.

  Message sent, the screen faded to nothing.

  Nothing.

  She should have gone out with Adrienne.

  Chapter Four

  If she’d passed him on the street, Miska would have known Jack Tomlinson was her father.

  While the waitress sliced deep-dish, spinach pizza, Miska studied his face, a male version of herself. Curly, black hair, his streaked with silver. Golden skin tone. Brown eyes the same wide shape and color as hers. His lips, his jaw, an aged version of her own. The main difference were the lines edging his eyes—lines Wade and Zane were beginning to sport—either laugh lines or worry lines.

  Adrienne would hope they were worry lines. Sleepless, scared-for-his-life worry lines.

  The waitress left, and with her fork Miska cut off the tip of the pizza. The first bite of rich tomato, gobs of mozzarella, and buttery cornmeal crust was savory heaven.

  Jack chuckled. “Told you it’s good.”

  “It’s amazing. I can’t believe I’ve lived here all these years and never tried it.” She weighed her words, then threw caution away. “Mom always preferred Giordano’s.”

  “She knew I liked Lou Malnati’s.” He set down his fork. “You want to talk about it?”

  His tone was gentle, warm, as if he were asking her to share some terrible burden.

  Was it being unfaithful to Mom to want to know his side of the story? He was her father, after all, the man who influenced her appearance and height. Wade and Zane had inherited Mom’s blonde hair and average stature. Having a relative she actually looked like felt better than expected.

  It had to be okay to listen to him.

  She shoved her hands into her lap. “Okay. What happened?”

  He looked at traffic crawling past on State Street. “I married my first wife too young.”

  “Jody, Adrienne’s mom.”

  “You know them?”

  “Adrienne and I are friends.”

  He smiled as if it made him happy. “How’d that happen?”

  “We were in the same high school for a year. For some reason she watched out for me.” They weren’t here to talk about her and Adrienne, though. Not yet. “You married Jody too young.”

  “We were twenty-one. Adrienne was born five months later, her brother a year later.”

  Her brother. Shouldn’t he have said his son?

  “Jody and I didn’t have much in common. She should never have married me, really. And I shouldn’t have asked her. But she was pregnant, and everyone said we should get married, so we convinced
ourselves that what we felt was love.” He looked down at his pizza. “I met your mom at the office. She was getting her master’s at night and working for the company during the day. Don’t know how we found time to have an affair, but we did.”

  “Why’d you do it?”

  “You’ve seen pictures of your mom at that age. She was beautiful.”

  “She was beautiful when you left her. In fact, she was beautiful up until the cancer. So why did you leave?”

  He studied her. “Miska, when you’re young and… and stupid, you think love is a feeling that never fades. When it does, you think you’re settling for less than you deserve. So you look elsewhere.”

  “So you fell out of love with Jody and my mom and all the rest.”

  “I was just in love with the idea of love—with romance, you know? That high you get when love is fresh and exciting? I wanted that.”

  She thought of Mark, even though their situation was different. They’d been together a year, and he hadn’t given any signs of getting bored. Then again, he hadn’t left his wife either. “How did you know you needed to leave Jody for my mom?”

  He chuckled. “Claire was pregnant with twins, and Jody guessed I was having an affair. Someone had to go. Jody wanted to maim me; Claire didn’t.” He shrugged. “At the time it made sense.”

  “So what happened? You and Mom were together four years. Longer than you were with Jody.”

  “Not quite four years. Six months before I left, I was seeing someone else.”

  Seeing someone else. Could he really use that term when he’d been raising three kids with his wife? It wasn’t high school.

  “I left her for a woman I met at a bar. Cute little thing. Married her a week after the divorce. Had a baby with her and then another affair. My history in a nutshell.”

  He held her gaze, sorrow and regret lining his eyes.

  “How many women were there?”

  “Wives?”

  “Wives. Girlfriends.”

  “I married another woman after Lana, then decided marrying was foolish. Getting a divorce so I could move on was too much.”

  “Not to mention the child support.”

  The street suddenly fascinated him.

  “You never paid child support?”

  “Nine kids? Five different women? I never made that kind of money.”