She’d called him Mike. Mike had been too familiar, too handsy. It had taken nearly all of Tom’s self-control not to throttle him when he’d groped Liza’s butt like she was some kind of . . .

He had to take a deep breath, conscious of Molina watching him.

Liza hadn’t objected, though, so he’d remained silent. At least Mike hadn’t stayed long enough to do anything more than groping. Because, yes, Tom had stood at the window watching until the man drove away.

“I’m glad,” Molina said. “I enjoyed her visits.”

Tom stared down at his boss, and she had to crane her neck to look up. In heels, Liza could look him in the eye comfortably.

And he wasn’t sure why he thought about that now. “Liza Barkley? My Liza Barkley?”

Except she wasn’t his. She was Mike’s.

Molina looked amused. “Tall? Long auburn hair that she wears in a Heidi braid? About five-ten, but likes heels? Always smiling? She’s your Liza Barkley, is she not?”

Yes, she always smiled. Yes, she wore her hair up in a braid, a habit she’d picked up during her years in the army. He preferred her hair down, but his preferences didn’t count. Because she wasn’t his. “Liza visited you?”

“Both in the hospital and after I went home. She brought me crime thrillers and lasagna and homemade caramel brownies. She even did my laundry a few times. I appreciated her kindness.”

“I didn’t know,” Tom murmured. Because Liza hadn’t mentioned it. His best friend hadn’t mentioned a lot of things lately. She’d been steadily pulling away from him for the last month and he didn’t like it one bit.

Molina frowned. “I figured you’d asked her to come.”

“No. I didn’t.” He recovered his composure and cleared his expression, because they were nearly at the meeting room. “She’s good at caregiving. She’s going to make an amazing nurse.”

“She told me that she’s starting nursing school in July. UC Davis is one of the best nursing schools in the country.”

“Yes, it is.” He’d been stunned when he’d learned that she was headed to Sacramento. She’d told him about her acceptance to UC Davis at his parents’ house over Christmas dinner six months ago, having just arrived back from Afghanistan. He’d been working up the nerve to tell his mother that he’d been posted to the Sacramento field office, knowing she’d be disappointed. His mother had been so hopeful that he’d get assigned to Chicago so they could live in the same city again. That Liza would be joining him in Sacramento had taken some of the sting out of the announcement.

He’d been happy. As happy as he’d been able to get, anyway. He’d still been numb with grief over Tory, and seeing Liza had . . . he wasn’t sure, but it had been like a kick in the gut. He’d been so glad to see her, but sad at the same time. She’d known that he’d fallen in love with Tory. She’d known that Tory was pregnant. But he hadn’t told her that Tory had died, and she’d been so shocked. She’d tried to hide it, but he’d been able to tell.