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“Good. She runs her own accounting firm. Dating an ER doc. I talked to him this afternoon and he told me he thinks Josh has aphasia. I read that the best way for him to communicate when he can’t talk is to draw. He’s drawing what happened to Lily.”

“That’s smart. Hope it works.”

“Same.” She crosses her fingers.

Ethan uncorks the wine, and she turns on the stereo to drown their voices so Josh doesn’t overhear them in case Ethan shares something disturbing. Evening jazz pours from the speakers throughout the house.

Ethan pours two glasses. “What?” he asks when she doesn’t take the wine he offers. His eyes mine her face. “Did something happen today?”

She hesitates, debating how much to tell him. They’d been close once, but she doesn’t know him anymore, a strange sensation given the years of anger and hurt. After all that happened, the lack of emotion she feels for him is a revelation. She tilts her head. “Did Lily talk about our dad with you, other than he wouldn’t let her use the car for work?”

He sips the wine. The creases on his face deepen like tire tracks in dirt. “God, that was a long time ago, but now that you mention it, she—” His gaze lifts past her. “Hey there, Josh.”

Josh stands in the doorway, hands tucked into the front pockets of his dark-washed skinny jeans. Ethan gives him a fist bump. “Hungry?” he asks.

“Yes,” Josh says.

“Hope you brought your appetite. I’m grilling steaks.”

His face brightens and he vigorously rubs his stomach. Olivia smiles, grappling with her impatience. She wants to know what Ethan was going to say.

Ethan looks at Olivia, his expression apologetic, a promise to pick this up later when Josh isn’t around. “I’ll put these on the grill, then we’ll talk.”

The doorbell rings.

“I’ll get it. Josh, why don’t you help Ethan,” she suggests, already on her way to the door. She looks through the peephole, wondering who is selling what on a Saturday night. A lone figure holding a motorcycle helmet and a bottle of Fireball fills her view. His leather jacket fits snugly over his torso.

She presses her forehead against the door and groans. Blaze. She remembers the apples rolling down the driveway. Distracted, she’d agreed for Blaze to swing by tonight to talk.

She opens the door, ready to apologize. Their issues will have to wait.

“Hey, Liv.” Blaze smiles and displays the bottle like a trophy.

“Blaze—” She senses movement behind her. Blaze looks beyond her. His eyes widen, then sharpen. He stands taller and grips the helmet like he wants to chuck it over her head.

“What the fuck is Miller doing here?”

CHAPTER 22

“Theodore,” Ethan greets. He lifts his wineglass.

Blaze grimaces at the sound of his given name and looks between Ethan and Olivia, taking in the scene, which is entirely misleading, worse than what he would have interpreted had he driven by the house last night. Wine in her Zalto glasses. Soft jazz playing over her wireless system. The dim lighting because she hasn’t had the chance since they arrived home to turn on all the lights. Her chambray shirtdress with the three-quarter sleeves. Would he believe she’s been wearing the dress all day? But when Blaze had called earlier, it completely skipped her mind she’d already made plans with Ethan. She can only imagine what he must be thinking. He’ll truly hate her now.

Blaze scoffs. “Is this a date?”

“He’s just visiting,” she says.

Blaze narrows his gaze.

“How’ve you been, Theo?” Ethan offers his hand.

Blaze reluctantly takes it. “Fine. How long are you in town?”

“I leave tomorrow.”

“Good.” Blaze’s face sours.

“Will you give us a moment?” she asks Ethan.

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