She wanted to scream No! She wanted to tell him that he couldn’t have that piece of her. But then his thumb swept across her cheek. It was a tender touch. The touch of a lover.

But he wasn’t and he never would be.

Still, the words came tumbling out. “Since I was seventeen years old.”

He gasped. “You were too young. I was too old.”

“You were twenty, Tom. Not too old. Not that it matters. I’m not seventeen anymore and you’re not twenty, but you still don’t have the same feelings that I do. That’s why I moved out. You’ll never feel the way I do and I can’t live my life wishing that you did. Eventually you’ll meet someone new and you’ll bring her home and . . .” A sob choked her, but Liza forced it back down. “You’ll have a good life,” she finished in a whisper. “Which I really want for you.”

She hadn’t moved her face and he hadn’t moved his hand.

He was staring down at her, his emotions too turbulent for her to read. But then, one emotion rose above the others and the sight stopped her heart. Longing.

She leaned closer and for a brief, shining moment, hope surged. Again.

And then he took a step back. Again. “All right,” he said quietly. “I won’t bother you anymore. Just let me know when you’ve figured out how we can be friends, okay?”

He left the garage, and a few seconds later, she heard Pebbles’s yip and whine, Tom’s deep rumble of chastisement, and then, finally, she heard Rafe’s front door open and close.

She let out the breath she’d been holding and sagged against Sasha’s car. For a few minutes she stood there, breathing. Collecting the pieces of her heart that had shattered. One by one, she rebuilt herself until she could stand firmly on her own two feet.

She had practice doing this. She’d done it before. When her mother had died. When her sister was killed. When she’d held Fritz’s body, his life already having seeped away.

She’d rebuilt her life before. She’d do it again. And because she had a little girl waiting for her in Mercy’s apartment, she forced her feet to move.

She opened the door to find Rafe waiting in the foyer, looking devastated.

He started to speak. “I’m—”

She held up her hand, stopping him with a smile. “It’s all right, Rafe. Tom and I are friends.” It was a lie, but Rafe seemed to believe it. “It’s not the drama you think it is. He yelled at me the other night because he was upset that I hadn’t told him about Fritz until now. He needed to be sure that he hadn’t hurt my feelings.”

“And did he?”

“Nope,” she said with forced cheer. “I’m good.”

“He’ll come back tomorrow to help me with the tables. You can hide anywhere you like.”

“If I’m still here,” she said lightly. “I have to go home sometime. Although I do recall you promising pancakes for breakfast when I first got here, so I’ll stay for those.”