1022 Evergreen Place. Debbie Macomber

I lied.”

      “I don’t appreciate it.”

      “That I get,” he said drily. “I just want you to know I regret the lie—and the, uh, misguided proposal.”

      No response.

      They arrived at the duplex, but neither seemed ready to get out of the car.

      “Where do we go from here?” Mack finally asked.

      Mary Jo didn’t answer for the longest time. When she did, she turned sideways and looked at him, her eyes wide and imploring. “Can I trust you, Mack?”

      “Yes.” He said it without hesitation. “I’d do anything for you and Noelle.”

      “Why?”

      His shoulders rose as he took a deep breath. He was afraid of Mary Jo’s reaction if he confessed his feelings. She’d probably leave, go back to Seattle, uproot the life she’d created here.

      “You don’t know?” he asked instead.

      “No,” she said. “I don’t.”

      “You need someone. You don’t want to admit it but you do, and I want to be that someone.” He’d toned down his feelings and hoped she’d understand—and not take offense.

      “Of all the people I’ve met since Noelle was born, you were the one I felt I could trust the most. I’m devastated to learn otherwise.”

      “Will you give me another chance?” he asked. He wouldn’t plead with her, wouldn’t state his case. The decision was hers; this was make-it-or-break-it time. He’d faltered badly but, God willing, Mary Jo would look past his error in judgment and agree to move forward.

      “I’m not making any promises,” she said.

      “I’m not asking for any.”

      She nodded. “Just don’t ever lie to me again.”

      “You have my word.” The second he spoke, he realized that expression was a poor choice.

      “Your word,” she repeated. “For what that’s worth.”

      Mack would need to show her that his word was good and his lie of omission was the wrong thing done for the right reasons.

      “From this point forward I’ll pay fair market rent,” she insisted.

      Mack didn’t feel he could argue, so he let it go. But he had to acknowledge, if only to himself, that he was relieved the truth had come out.

       Five

      Christie walked out of her sister’s house and slumped against the closed front door. She didn’t know how Teri managed with three tiny infants. Identical triplet sons.

      After a single afternoon of helping Teri with the babies, Christie was completely exhausted. Thankfully Teri’s husband, Bobby, had insisted on a live-in nanny; otherwise, Christie had no idea how the family would’ve coped.

      Nikki, the nanny, was off on Wednesdays, and Christie had arranged to have her afternoons free on the same day so she could come over and assist Teri. To her surprise, she’d discovered that when she focused her attention on others, she was a happier person. She’d learned that lesson over Christmas, which had otherwise been a miserable time for her. James, Bobby’s closest friend and chauffeur, had vanished. In an effort to divert herself from her unhappiness without him, Christie had helped distribute food and gifts to the needy. It turned out to be the best thing she could’ve done. Christmas Day was another matter, but she didn’t want to think about that. And then weeks later, he’d returned, without apology or explanation.

      The apartment door above the garage opened, and James stepped onto the small porch. While he didn’t invite her into his apartment, he made it clear that he’d welcome her company. The fact that he stood there quietly, waiting, told her as much.

      Tired though she was, Christie couldn’t walk away. She loved James. He’d hurt her badly when he’d disappeared without a word—and then seemed to think all should be forgiven once he came back. Eventually she had forgiven him, although she still didn’t understand exactly why he’d left. For good measure she’d tossed in a threat or two. If he ever walked out on her again, it would be over.

      She had legitimate reasons for being upset with him. She’d believed he was different from her various exes. Christie had a bad track record with men, starting in high school. The only thing her ex-husband had ever given her—besides trouble—was his name. And every man she’d loved, before and since, had left her high and dry. She’d had a pattern of finding losers she felt she could rescue with enough love and sympathy. Generally they moved in together and for a while all would go well. Then, invariably, there’d be a fight or a betrayal or some kind of disastrous revelation, and the affair would be over, leaving Christie sick at heart, crying her eyes out and desperately alone.

      Yes, she’d believed James was unlike any other man she’d ever known. Certainly in the obvious ways, such as the fact that he wasn’t nearly as handsome as the guys she usually went for. Tall, skinny, with facial features that were sharp and slightly irregular, he resembled the caricature of a butler in some English comedies she’d seen. But that was superficial and irrelevant. He was compassionate, caring and kind, and that made him more appealing than all the good-looking men she’d been attracted to in the past.

      Furthermore, James had inspired her to become a different woman, to look beyond herself. She’d laid out her past, ugly as it was, so there’d be no secrets between them. Then poof! Like every other man she’d ever loved, he’d disappeared from her life.

      When he’d come back a few weeks later, Teri and Bobby had championed his case, but Christie was having none of it. Then Teri went into labor and they’d met at the hospital. After that, Christie decided to give their relationship a second chance. However, things were still tentative. She was bruised, weary, uncertain; experience had been a brutal taskmaster and she’d already given too many second chances.

      “You look tired,” James said. He met her halfway down the stairs and slipped his arm around her waist. Walking beside her, he guided her up the rest of the steps.

      “You would, too, if you’d held a fussy infant for the past three hours.”

      “Jimmy?”

      “No, Christopher.” Her sister had named the three little boys after Bobby, James and Christie. Naturally, Christie couldn’t help being partial to Christopher, the smallest of the three and—of course—the one who demanded the most attention.

      “What did you do to your hair?” James asked as he kissed the top of her head.

      Christie had recently had the front bleached blond and then added streaks of auburn. She never could wear her hair just plain. That was far too boring. Good thing Teri was a hairdresser by trade, or had been until her difficult pregnancy, which had put a temporary end to her career. Her friend Rachel Peyton had done a terrific job with this new style.

      “Do you like it?”

      “I like you,” he said, drawing her inside his small apartment. He led her to the sofa and urged her to sit down. Christie didn’t object as he went into the kitchen and put water on for tea.

      “I like you, too,” she told him.

      James brought her a cup of tea, sweetened with honey and with a fresh slice of lemon on the side. No other man had ever waited on her. None had loved her in quite the way James did, either. It would be easy to let down her guard yet again, but she couldn’t. She needed time to feel confident in his love. Everything she knew about James said she could trust him; however, she’d believed that before, and he’d abandoned her. No, for her own peace of mind, her own emotional well-being, she had to play it safe.

      “How’s school?” he asked.

      Christie had signed up for