What the hell are you doing here, O’Connell? he asked himself with a quick twinge of panic. A weekend in New York. The ballet. For God’s sake, why aren’t you home sanding drywall and thinking about making a Friday night pizza?

Because of Kate, he admitted, and the panic bumped up into his throat. Somehow she’d changed everything.

With the carry-on in one hand, and Jack’s hand gripped firmly in the other, Brody came through the gate. He ordered himself to be calm—it was only a couple of days, after all—and looked for Kate. When a tall blond man waved, Brody flipped through his memory files and tried to put a name to Kate’s brother-in-law.

“Nick LeBeck.” Nick tugged Brody’s bag free to take it himself. “You guys are bunking at our place. Kate wanted to pick you up herself, but she got hung up at rehearsal.”

“We appreciate you coming out. We could’ve taken a cab.”

“No problem. Any more luggage?”

“Just Mike.”

“Right.” Grinning, Nick leaned down to shake Jack’s hand. “Good to see you. Max is pretty excited about you coming to visit. You met him on New Year’s.”

“Uh-huh, and Kate said we can have, like, a sleep-over for two nights.”

“Yeah. We’re having a big celebration dinner, too. You like fish-head soup?”

Jack’s eyes went huge. Slowly he shook his head.

“Good, because we’re not having any. Let’s go spring Mike.”

It wasn’t as awkward as he’d expected it to be to find himself dumped in a strange city, in a strange house with people he barely knew. Jack dived right in, picking up his fledgling friendship with Max as if they’d just parted the day before. Mike was a huge hit, and in a buzz of excitement at the attention, peed on the rug.

“I’m really sorry. He’s almost housebroken.”

“So are my kids,” Freddie told Brody, and handed him a damp rag. “We’re used to spills around here—of all natures—so relax.”

To Brody’s surprise, he did. It was interesting, and entertaining to watch Jack interact with a family, to see how he slid into the mix with a brother and sister. It was cute the way he played with three-year-old Kelsey. Kind of like he was trying out his big brother muscles.

It wasn’t always easy, Brody mused, being an only child.

“Want to escape?” Nick asked and jerked his head. As he walked out of the playroom he called out: “You break it, you buy it.” Laughing moans followed them out.

He took Brody into the music room with its battered piano—one he’d kept more than a decade out of sentiment—and its wide, deep leather chairs. There were gleaming Tonys on a shelf and a clutter of sheet music on a bench.

Nick walked over to a clear-fronted minifridge. “Beer?”

“Oh,” Brody said with feeling. “Yeah.”

“Traveling with kids separates the men from the boys.” Nick popped tops, offered a bottle. “Let’s hear it for keeping them separate for ten blissful minutes.”