Fireside by Susan Wiggs (autobiographies to read .TXT) 📕

bar, and glasses clinked. Suddenly bashful because of the noisy crowd, Charlie whimpered and clung to her leg. She scooped him up and settled him on her hip, the movement by now as natural as breathing. “It’s all right, kiddo,” she said. “These are our friends and family, and everyone in this room is ga-ga over you.”

“Ga-ga,” he echoed.

Scanning the group at the bar, she easily spotted Julian. She hung back for a minute, studying him. Her reaction to him was always the same—the pounding heart, the fluttering stomach. The shaved head was a shock. All those glorious, riotous dreadlocks, shorn. Yet somehow, the eight-ball look only accentuated his amazing cheekbones and sensual mouth, the dark eyes and warm café-au-lait skin.

As though he sensed her scrutiny, Julian spotted her. A smile of pure happiness lit his face, and he wended his way across the room to her. For a few seconds, Daisy allowed herself a fantasy. He would cross the room, scoop her into his arms, swing her around and declare that he loved her.

Instead, he gave her a brief hug. “Hey, Daze,” he said, then lightly ruffled Charlie’s downy red hair. “Hey, short stuff. How you doing?”

Charlie tucked his face into the curve of Daisy’s neck.

“Must be the haircut,” Julian said. “Come on. I’ll get you something to drink. You want a beer?”

“Sure.” They had both just turned twenty-one. Having a beer in a room that included her father, various aunts and uncles, and her grandparents, felt a little strange, but she accepted a chilled bottle of Utica Club. She clinked her bottle with his. “Cheers,” she said. “You must be excited about your trip.”

“Completely. But, Daisy…” He grew serious, the merriment leaving his eyes. “I’m going to miss—”

“Da!” Charlie started bucking in Daisy’s arms, causing her beer to erupt, sprinkling both her and the baby. “Da!” he said again, scrambling to get down.

Daisy knew even before she turned who had arrived. Charlie had this reaction to only one person. “Hi, Logan,” she said, greeting the father of her child.

Charlie practically launched himself at Logan. They both shared bright red hair and a sunny outlook on life. Logan was Julian’s opposite in nearly every way. Perhaps that was why she’d slept with him, long ago, back when she was angry and stupid. Logan grabbed the boy and swung him up in the air. “Hey, big guy,” he said, flashing a grin. Then he greeted Daisy and Julian. There was an awkward moment when he focused on the beer bottle in her hand. He was in recovery, but staying clean and sober was an everyday struggle for him.

“Why don’t you take him to see your folks?” she said, holding the bottle low against her leg. Silly. He’d told her many times that he didn’t expect her to avoid drinking around him. Staying sober was his job. Still, she couldn’t help feeling bad.

“Okay, they’ve been asking where he is. Let’s go, big guy.”

She watched him walk away with their son, confused by her own emotions. Despite their rocky, unplanned beginnings, Logan had turned out to be a loving father. Sometimes, when the three of them were together, she could so easily picture them staying together. She glanced again at Jenny and Rourke, awaiting their baby together, ready to be a family.

“Remind me again,” Julian teased, “what are the O’Donnells doing at my farewell party?”

She gently slugged his arm. “It’s a family thing, and you know it. Thanks to Charlie, they’re family.”

“It’s cool. I never had much in the way of family.”

“You do now,” she pointed out, gesturing around the room. He and his brother, Connor, had reconnected a few years ago, opening a world to him. He’d told her so, and he’d talked a little about his childhood, being raised by a single mom. He’d admitted it was lonely.

She set down her beer, no longer thirsty.

“You all right?” he asked.

“Sure. I’m jealous of you, though, heading for another adventure. And Sonnet, studying abroad.” She thought about her best friend, spending the semester in Frankfurt. “When she and I were little, we always said we’d travel the world together. I’m jealous because it’s not an option for me.” She smiled up at him. “Then I look at my little boy, and I get over it, so don’t feel too sorry for me.”

“I don’t feel sorry for you.”

What do you feel? She wished she had the courage to ask. She thought about the things unsaid between them. She thought about the one time he’d kissed her. It had happened a year ago, but it was the kind of kiss you thought about forever. She wished he’d do it again. But there never seemed to be a good time for them.

“Go mingle,” she said, shooing him away. “All these people are here for you.”

“What about you?” he asked. “Are you here for me?”

She teetered on the verge of giving him an honest answer. “I’ll meet you at the station when you leave next Monday,” she said.

He offered a half smile, and a look that said so much more than words. “Seems like I’m always telling you goodbye.”

Ten

In the fussy candy-colored mansion, Bo felt like a bull in a china shop. He was surrounded by fragile knicknacks, precariously displayed in rooms that had names that made him think of that old board game—the parlor, the library, the rotunda. The butler did it in the pantry with the meat mallet. The maid did it with the feather duster in the linen closet. The baseball player did it with Kimberly van Dorn in the bedroom….

Yet despite the ornate furnishings, waking up at Fairfield House was unexpectedly pleasant. In his little alcove bed, AJ slept like the dead, and Bo was careful not to awaken him. Sleep was the only escape the poor kid had from worrying about his mother.

On the nightstand beside the bed was a small photograph in a plastic sleeve. It was the only photo AJ