Spring was at its lushest, and Leigh had been home for two months plus a few days. The gazebo was half constructed, the flagstone garden paths coming along nicely, and the barbecue pit would support a few burgers and steaks in another week. Because the lot was huge and abundant with brush, trees and plants, it didn’t really appear to be under construction. When the mess was cleared away, it would be stunning. Leigh was so glad to be here; she felt such a sense of renewal. She believed in her future in a way she never had before.

Each moment with John seemed to improve on the one before it. The interest he showed in the boys, seemingly both entertained and fascinated by them, was something she had only dared dream of. Since she hadn’t really expected it to go even half so well, she was very pleased with herself.

Leigh remembered when a book had held her interest more than John did. It had frustrated him terribly, back when he didn’t understand how she had learned to escape her feelings—and the feelings she had around John were enormous. Now, with her renewed sensitivity to what she felt, the book that could draw her attention away from John for a minute had not yet been written.

He had been so good about re-creating their friendship on her terms. He had taken the boys to sign up for T-ball, gone with them all to get ice cream, and just last Saturday they had attended a movie. Jess invited him to lunch and dinner nearly every day and wasn’t fooling him at all.

“Your mother is making me very nervous with this setup. She isn’t fooling anyone,” he said.

“I know,” she replied.

I’m not as dumb about relationships as I claimed, Leigh thought. Years ago she had known she wanted this: a lover, a friend, partner, children. It was one of the critical impulses that had caused her to separate from Max, because he had made it clear that this could never happen with him.

Then there was something else, something frequently covered in paperback novels. Romance. On at least one and sometimes two nights each week Leigh would steal an evening to be alone with John. And while he didn’t push her or try to make love to her again, their kissing sessions were simply magnificent, spattered with dialogue, tense with desire, lush with emotion…and they couldn’t help themselves. What a lovely thing to not be able to help. She wanted him so badly she ached.