Page 28 of No Angels

I smile, because I bet Mike did the same thing. The screen door creaks open, and he strolls out. Like his ears were burning because I was thinking about him.

“Did you teach your son to give the stuff he doesn’t like on his plate to the family pet?”

He grins sheepishly. “I would never do something like that.”

I shake my head at the two of them. “It’d be much easier to tell her when you don’t like something.”

Mike and Brady share a smile. “We’d never do anything to hurt her feelings.”

“The two of you are hopeless. That’s exactly what your son said. You know that she probably knows you’re sneaking stuff to Fred, right?”

“No, she doesn’t notice.”

“It may not seem like she notices, but trust me. She notices. Moms and nanas have a sixth sense about that kind of thing.”

Brady’s face falls. “I’d better go apologize and tell her the truth.”

Mike ruffles his hair. “She won’t hold it against you, bud. She loves you.”

After he scampers off, Mike takes the vacant seat and throws his arm around my shoulders.

The trees in the distance are in full color, and even though the air is brisk, it’s not unbearable. I snuggle into my fleece jacket and nestle my head against his shoulder.

“This is nice,” he murmurs against my hair. “Almost as nice as waking up with you.”

“It is nice,” I agree. The weight of his arm around my shoulders feels like home, and I like how I can feel the seam of his jeans against mine when he pushes us off and our legs brush together.

“So tell me what you’re thinking, Cassidy.”

“That I should have known it would be like this.”

His lips brush the crown of my head again. “Like what?”

“Like this. Easy and flawless and belonging.”

“Belonging? You mean like all the pranks we played and the crap we put each other through when we were kids was all leading up to this? Yeah. I always knew this is how it would be. Belonging.”

Mike’s dad steps onto the porch, and I’m seeing the man sitting beside me twenty years from now. Jim Callihan’s head of hair is still mostly dark, and his beard has an equal amount of salt and pepper. His broad shoulders are covered in a green flannel shirt, just like the one Mike’s wearing.

I turn to Mike. “Did your mom make all of you wear matching shirts?”

I can’t hide my delight, and he rolls his eyes. “Yep. Brady refused to put his on until we actually get ready to take the annual family picture for the holiday cards. And Derek will be here when his shift is over at four. He knows better than to show up wearing anything but what Mom picked out.”

Jim shakes his head. “My wife is a force to be reckoned with. Just as I suspect you are, Bianca Cassidy. You were a holy terror when the two of you were kids in each other’s back pockets and I bet you haven’t changed much.”

I shouldn’t be surprised his dad remembers me. He bore the brunt of our pranks enough times, and got us out of some scrapes without telling our moms. I smile over at him. “Not on the inside I haven’t.”

He smiles back. “Don’t let this knucklehead keep you away so long next time.”

Mike chuckles. “Knucklehead. Really, Dad? How do you know I was the one keeping her away?”

Mr. Callihan shoves his hands in his front pockets and rocks on his heels. “Son, you should know by now that things like that are aways our fault. I’d let the two of you finish catching up, but your mom sent me out here to tell you the meal’s ready.”

Mike stands and tugs me into his arms. We hug for a minute before we follow his dad inside.

Mom gives me a pointed look when she sees our clasped hands. I want to shake my finger at her, because I can tell she’s plotting something. Her smile gets even bigger when he pulls me under the mistletoe and kisses me like I'm all he's ever wanted for Christmas. There are a lot of oohs and ahs, and Brady's commentary, "Ooh, gross Dad."

Chapter Eleven

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