“You’re a good man, Aidan O’Malley. You’ve made the best of the hand you were dealt. And even in the midst of your own pain, you thought of others. You made life easier for your family, you gave all that money to cancer research, and you work so hard even though you don’t have to.”

“I still feel guilty sometimes about how I came to have it.”

“It’s much more important to consider what you did with it.”

He took his eyes off the road long enough to glance over at her. “You’re very good for me. You somehow manage to always make me feel better.”

She smiled. “You do exactly the same thing for me. While we’re talking about your millions, I guess I should tell you the house wasn’t the only thing I got out of my divorce, even though it was the only thing I asked for.”

“What else did you get?”

“Three million. Jack made a fortune while we were married, and he made sure I’d never have to think about money again.”

“Which was only fair. You raised his children for him.”

Clare shrugged. “That was the very best time of my life, when my girls were small. I didn’t expect or even want that kind of money. He did it without telling me.”

Aidan sighed. “That guy is just too much. I can’t compete with him.”

She squeezed his hand. “There’s no competition, Aidan. He’s my past. You’re my present, and I hope my future.”

“I hope so, too.”

“Do you mind if we stop to stretch?” Clare asked when they reached the outskirts of Boston. “I’m getting stiff from sitting so long.”

“No problem. I’m a little hungry anyway.” A few minutes later, he took a rest stop exit and held her hand as they jogged through the frigid cold to a restaurant complex.

Aidan carried a tray with deli sandwiches and sodas to a table. While they were eating, Clare noticed him watching a boy sitting with his parents at the next table. He was about eight or nine, and his hands danced through the air as he talked with animation to parents who hung on his every word. The boy wore a Red Sox hat and jersey with high-top sneakers. A hand-held electronic game sat on the table next to a can of Dr. Pepper.

Only when Clare reached for his hand did Aidan seem to realize he was staring.

“I see boys that age, and I wonder about Colin,” he confessed.

“It’s only natural.”

“I wonder all the time what he’d be like. Would he be a Red Sox fan like I am? Like that boy over there? Would he play football? Would he have read all the Harry Potter books by now or loved Star Wars?”