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  “Yes. She said it gave her confidence when she was facing down the snobs. She never took it off during campaign season.”

  I smile, thinking about my mother wearing this like some sort of magical talisman, which could insulate her from the ravenous press corps.

  “I’m sure she’d want you to have this.”

  “Thanks.” I put the box inside my inner pocket, near my heart.

  My dad puts his hand on my shoulder and looks into my eyes. “Look, son. You may not believe it, but I loved your mom and her death was just as devastating to me.”

  I shift away from his hand and it drops limply to his side. This is not the first time he’s tried to talk to me about her, but I don’t want to hear anything he has to say.

  Bitterness colors my every word. “You may be able to bullshit the voters, but I see through the lies. You loved your wife so much you neglected her while she was alive. You loved her so much you cheated on her. And you loved her so much you remarried before she was cold in the grave. And replaced her with the woman you were cheating on her with because it was politically expedient. Yeah, your brand of love, I can do without.” I turn on my heel, all of a sudden finding it hard to draw enough oxygen into my lungs.

  “Sean!”

  I pause without turning around.

  “You’re oversimplifying the circumstances, like you do with everything else. Not everything is black and white.”

  “You keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better. People live in the grey zone long enough and they can’t tell right from wrong. I’d rather live in my simple black and white world.”

  I stride out of the room without waiting for a response. It isn’t until I drive out of the gates that I can breathe again.

  Chapter Six

  Maggie

  I feel like a dork loitering outside the residence hall fifteen minutes before Sean is due to arrive. I tell myself it’s because I don’t want to keep him waiting, but I know I’m lying to myself. Despite the stern talk I had with myself to not get overly excited about spending the day with Sean, my heart won’t listen.

  I spent an hour trying to find the perfect outfit, but when I realized I didn’t have many options, I settled on plain capris, a tank top, and comfortable canvas shoes. Most of my luggage had consisted of books, after all. I had never been a girly-girl, but now I wish I had more of an interest in fashion.

  With my butt half on, half off the stone planter next to the doorway, I exchange a few texts with my friends back in Chicago, but keep my focus on the street entrance.

  “Hi, I’m Josh.”

  I startle and jerk away when I hear the voice right near my ear. My heart thundering with fear, I hastily stand up and turn to face a stranger.

  He’s tall, at least six feet, and looks to be my age. His face is pale and narrow. I have to suppress a shiver when I meet his dark eyes. His irises are so black they bleed into his pupils. He doesn’t look unfriendly, but I feel uneasy under his unblinking stare.

  In the back of my mind, I calculate that he can easily overpower my five feet five frame. As a single woman living in a big city, I tend to consider all sorts of unlikely scenarios when I meet strangers—especially males.

  “Um…hi, are you a new student?” I ask, trying to keep my voice friendly while I surreptitiously stick my hand into my messenger bag to grab my pepper spray. I almost sag in relief when my fingers fold around the canister. I thumb the notch into place, priming it for use.

  “Yes, first year. What’s your name?”

  Something about his intensity is off-putting, but I tell myself I’m being paranoid. He’s probably trying to make new friends if he’s a first-year student like me. “I’m Maggie.” I don’t share my last name.

  “It’s nice to meet you Maggie. Where are you from?”

  I narrow my eyes. There’s definitely something odd about Josh. His speech pattern is abrupt and almost disjointed.

  “Maggie!”

  When I see my floormate Hannah, come out the door, I smile in relief. Being alone with Josh, even in broad daylight, makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. My instincts are telling me I should stay away from this guy. Cael may think I’m helpless, but I didn’t survive in a tough neighborhood in Chicago by being an idiot.

  “Hi, Hannah.” I try to convey a message with my eyes, but she isn’t paying attention to the man standing too close to me.

  “Hi, I’m Josh. You’re pretty.” His black eyes are now honed on Hannah’s face and she slants me a what-the-fuck look. Hannah’s a Jersey girl and doesn’t take crap from anyone.

  Thinking quickly, I snag Hannah’s hand and squeeze tightly, praying she heeds my nonverbal warning. The last thing I want to do is to provoke him.

  I speak hurriedly. “Sorry, Josh, Hannah and I need to be somewhere. It was nice meeting you.” I flash a fake smile and drag a confused Hannah out the gates. Luckily, she doesn’t fight me. I glance back and Josh is still staring fixedly at us, but at least he hasn’t made a move to follow us.

  “Maggie, what the fuck are you doing? I have to meet my brother in front,” she hisses as I stride briskly down the street until we are out of Josh’s view.

  “Sorry, Hannah. Just text your brother to meet you here. That guy gave me the heebie-jeebies.” I shudder, trying to shake off the disturbing incident.

  “He was weird, wasn’t he? Who the fuck tells a girl she’s pretty like that? Jeepers creepers.” She twists her face in distaste, her brown eyes flashing with determination. “If he comes near me, I’m going to kick his nuts.”

  I grin at the display of her tough-girl attitude. When I met her that first night in the dorms, I knew we would hit if off. “Calm down, Wonder Woman. He’s probably just harmless, but to be safe, avoid being alone with him.”

  “You don’t have to tell me, girl.”

  Hannah taps something into her phone and I do the same, texting Sean to meet me around the corner instead. I’m glad he didn’t witness my encounter with Josh. He might have flipped out or worse—told my brother.

  Two minutes later, a tall, lanky guy dressed in a Mets cap lopes toward us and instantly, I know it’s Hannah’s brother. Her features are rounder and softer, but they share the same eyes and strong chin.

  She squeals, gives her brother a hug and then turns to me. “Maggie, I want you to meet my brother, Cory.” Hannah waves her hand at me. “Cory, this is Maggie Jackson. She’s starting the program with me.”

  “Hi, Cory,” I say and hold out my hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “It’s a pleasure, Maggie.” He shakes my hand, but it feels like he holds it for a fraction of a second too long. I start to feel self-conscious under his stare. He’s cute in a boyish kind of way, with shaggy blonde hair and a crooked smile. His eyes are the color of chocolate fudge.

  I tug my hand out of his clasp, feeling a blush make its way up my neck. “Did you help Hannah move to New York?”

  “I actually live here. I’m doing my residency right now.”

  “Oh! That’s great! Your parents must be so proud to have two doctors in the same family.”

  Hannah makes a face. “Dad is a doctor so he has been brainwashing us all our lives.”

  Cory elbows her and says, “Don’t use Dad as an excuse. You were always bandaging up your dolls when you were a kid. I still think you deliberately tore off Barbie’s arm so that you could reset it.”

  Hannah looks at me sheepishly and giggles. “I had a whole box of disabled dolls.”

  Her brother chuckles and I join in their laughter. Observing their teasing interaction, I suddenly miss my brother. Since my arrival, I’ve had to be careful about communicating with Cael. Too many texts and phone calls and he’d know I’m homesick. Too few and he’d freak out that something has happened to me.

  “So what are you doing today?” Hannah asks, flipping her light brown hair over her shoulder. “Cory and I are going to bum around the city. Want to come with?”

  I look at my phone
and my heart gives a little thump when I see Sean’s reply. Only a minute more until I see him again. I shake my head. “Um…I’m hanging out with a friend today. Maybe another time?”

  “Definitely,” she says. “How about dinner tomorrow?”

  “Sure, sounds like fun.”

  “I’m looking forward to it,” Cory says, something in his eyes making my blush reach my cheeks.

  Is he flirting with me? Should I flirt back? It’s been a while since I broke up with my boyfriend and Cory seems like such a nice guy.

  “Ready to go?”

  A shiver of pleasure travels down my spine when that deep voice rasps next to my ear and a huge grin splits my face.

  “Sean!” Spinning to face him, I throw my arms around him in a big hug. Any lingering feelings of anxiety caused by the encounter with Josh disappear and I close my eyes, drawing in the scent of pine and soap.

  Only when I feel his body stiffen do I come to my senses. At the airport, he didn’t seem comfortable with my spontaneous display of affection either. Embarrassed, I drop my arms and back away. There’s a moment of awkwardness before I remember my manners. “Uh…Hannah, this is my friend Sean Rowan. Sean, Hannah Michaels is one of the new students and this is her brother, Cory.”

  Cory is only a few years younger than Sean, but seeing them side by side, I can’t help but notice how immature Hannah’s brother looks in his cap, beer logo t-shirt, and khaki shorts. Sean is dressed in a snug grey t-shirt and faded jeans that have been washed so many times, they mold easily to his muscular legs. A low heat builds at the bottom of my belly at the subtle display of his strength.

  Don’t compare every guy to Sean! I mentally grimace at the sage advice. If I did that, I’d never date again.

  “Hi! Nice to meet you,” There’s a coquettish note in Hannah’s voice as she greets Sean and I don’t like the squirmy, dark feeling in my chest. My floormate is tall and pretty, with flawless skin and long straight hair. Next to her, I look like a leprechaun.

  “Likewise.” Sean has a charming smile on his face as he shakes hands with Hannah and Cory, but there’s a small tic in his cheek that tells me he’s annoyed by something. After a minute of small talk, he looks at me and asks again, “Ready to go?”

  Distracted by how good he looks, it takes an extra beat for the question to sink in. “Um…sure.”

  “We should head out too. We’ll see you tomorrow, Maggie,” Cory smiles at me and nods pleasantly at Sean. “Have a good day.”

  Hannah flutters her lashes and says, “Nice to meet you, Sean. Maybe we can all hang out next time.”

  Sean smiles, but to my relief, he doesn’t accept the invitation.

  Before the siblings round the corner, Cory gives me a little wave and I automatically wave back.

  “Known them for long?” Sean asks, that tight look still on his face.

  “Nope. Met Hannah last week and Cory just now.” I stuff my phone into the outside pocket of my messenger bag and start to walk. “They’re super friendly.”

  “I bet,” he mutters and takes my elbow to guide me in the other direction.

  “Pardon?” I ask, surprised by his sarcasm. He’s not normally moody and I wonder if he regrets agreeing to spend the day with me. “Um…are you okay? You don’t have to entertain me if you have something else to do.”

  The smile returns to his eyes. God, they’re bluer than the summer sky. “Of course not. There’s nothing more important than showing you New York has the best pizza.”

  I grin at the challenge in his voice. “Bring it on!”

  On the ride, I chatter about my week, telling him about the new students and classes. He listens patiently, asking a few relevant questions. We park in a garage near Central Park. I eye the parking prices and say, “Sean, we should have taken the train. The prices are highway robbery.”

  He gives me a funny look and then throws back his head and laughs.

  I fiddle with the strap of my messenger bag and frown at him. “What?”

  I almost swoon when he throws his arm over my shoulders and hugs me to his side. It takes everything in me not to snuggle into him and stick my nose into the crook of his neck. He smells so freaking delicious.

  “Nothing, Freckles. It’s just good to have you around.”

  My insides soften into mush, but I become annoyed when he continues to chuckle, knowing it’s at my expense. I poke him in the stomach with my forefinger and almost yelp in pain when it bounces off his hard abs. The man is ripped. “Why are you laughing at me?”

  “You do know my mom left me billions of dollars, right?”

  My face reddens. Sean is so down-to-earth, I sometimes forget he’s filthy rich. He doesn’t wear expensive clothes or jewelry. As far as I know, his apartment is the only conspicuous sign of his wealth. Even his car, while nice, does not reflect how rich he truly is. It’s to his credit that he doesn’t flaunt his wealth and make others feel self-conscious about their lack. Although our apartment in Chicago was small and cramped, he treated it like it was his favorite place to be.

  “It doesn’t mean it’s not highway robbery, Mr. Moneybags,” I mutter defensively.

  It is an ingrained habit to be frugal. For all of my childhood, my family was worried about money. Our mom worked constantly, trying to make ends meet, but it never seemed to be enough. It always felt like Cael and I were outgrowing our clothes or shoes. Hunger always gnawed on the edges, especially toward the end of the month when we were waiting for Mom’s next paycheck. Since my brother had to babysit me, he also couldn’t work a part-time job to help with household expenses.

  It wasn’t until Cael was recruited as a running back for the Cleveland Browns that our circumstances changed. My brother bought us a house in a nicer neighborhood and our mom quit her minimum wage jobs, but we continued to live modestly. After two years, my brother left the league and joined the army. I had a feeling he would have enlisted sooner, but he wanted to make sure my mom and I were financially taken care of. We were extremely proud of his decision to choose his country over a lucrative career.

  Still smiling, Sean says, “You’re right. How about the next time we go out, we take the subway like real New Yorkers?” he asks and the surge of elation at the thought of another day—not date, I sternly tell myself—with Sean makes me feel lightheaded.

  “Okay,” I say, disappointed when he drops his arm to his side.

  Before long, we are following one of the many paths traversing the park.

  “I love Central Park. Chicago has Millennium Park, but it’s nothing like this,” I say as I watch New Yorkers lounging or playing games on the grass. It seems everyone is out to enjoy the summer sun. Once we’re further in the park, I can almost pretend I’m not in the busiest city in the country. “Ooh…can we go to the Alice in Wonderland sculptures?”

  “We can go wherever you want,” he says with indulgent amusement and steers me down another path.

  After a few minutes of silence, I ask tentatively, not wanting to overstep my bounds, “So how did your mom make so much money?” Despite the I-have-nothing-to-hide image he projects, Sean doesn’t actually like to talk about his personal life.

  “The old-fashioned way. She inherited it from my grandfather. Ever heard of Duquesne Shipping?”

  I shake my head at the unfamiliar name.

  “For thirty years, it was the most successful shipping company in the world. When my grandfather died, my mom sold her shares to a distant cousin and put half of the money in a trust for me. The other half went into my parents’ account. I think the cousin changed the name to American Transport something or other.”

  “Why didn’t she stay on to run the business?”

  “My mom never had an interest in the business to begin with and at the time, it was unheard of for a woman to be at the helm of a company. She had been married to my father for a year and already had a new baby. Her focus was on her new family.” His jaw clenches and loosens before he continues, “Besides, she knew she’d have t
o be active in his career.”

  “What was she like?” I know the Senator, but I’ve never heard much about Sean’s mom.

  His face softens and so does his voice. “Beautiful. Gentle. Funny. My father couldn’t have become a US Senator without her help. Although she hated being in the spotlight, she was incredibly adept with the press. She was constantly busy with my father’s campaigns, but she always tried to be there for me. If we were having a fundraiser at the house, she’d sneak away during my bedtime and read me a book before she went back to the party.”

  “It sounds like she was a great mom.” I can tell he worships her.

  He nods. “Yeah, she was. Your mom reminded me of her.”

  I smile sadly. “Thank you. I miss her so much.” There are some days when it’s a gaping hole in my chest.

  “I do too,” he says gently, his gaze steady. “She would be so proud of you.”

  “Thank you,” I say, tears shimmering at the back of my eyes, not surprised by his understanding. The hardest part of losing her is not being able to share the triumphs in my life. Refusing to let sorrow darken our day, I breathe deeply through my nose and ask, “What was your mom’s name?”

  “Amelia.” A tender smile touches his lips. “She always thought it sounded old-fashioned and introduced herself as Amy.”

  “I like Amelia. It sounds elegant.”

  Sean says quietly, “I like it, too.”

  “How did your parents meet?”

  “According to my mom, my father was meeting with my grandfather—her dad—at the house to try to get a donation for an upcoming run for a congressional seat. At the time my father was already in the state assembly, but he had a lot of ambition.”

  I almost flinch at the contempt he injects into the word ambition. It’s clear he doesn’t have a lot of respect for his father’s work and I wonder if this is the source of the friction between father and son.

  “When he walked out of the office, he didn’t look where he was going and bumped into my mom. She lost her balance and he caught her in his arms. They looked into each other’s eyes and Mom swore it was love at first sight.”