Until There Was You Read Free Page B

sex appeal. Suddenly, females of all ages loved him. No one from nowhere was suddenly prince of the city, and he tomcatted around for a while until he met Emma Tate and fell. Hard. And she loved him, too, for a while, anyway, and when she told him—grimly—that she was three weeks late, Liam discovered what destiny felt like.
    Nicole—she was perfect. Moody these days, yes, and not the best at math, and she had a temper, and she thought she’d be prettier with pink streaks in her reddish-blond hair, and she’d thrown a huge hissy about the move…but she was perfect. The best thing in his life, the best thing ever.
    “So, my math teacher, she, like, hates me,” Nicole said as they stood in the kitchen, working on dinner. They were eating late, still adjusting to the time change from California. Nic was peeling carrots, which had been her favorite veggie since she was eight months old. “She made all these totally snide comments about me being allowed to slide last year in algebra, and I was like, lady, hello? My mother died, okay? Sorry they didn’t bring out the whip and chains, but maybe in California, they actually like children.”
    “Did you say that?” Liam asked, nudging the chicken as it sizzled in the pan.
    “Duh. No, Dad,” she said, fondness softening her words. “So then we go to science, and it’s exactly what I was doing last year, and I was so bored I wanted to cry.” Nicole went on, detailing the shortcomings of the Bellsford school system, the cliques of her school, her fear of not fitting in—people had been nice so far, but you could never tell if they were being fake till they stabbed you in the back, right?—her dilemma over doing spring track or the school play or maybe trying lacrosse, the ugliness of mud season in New England, and the cold weather.
    Her words were music, though. She was talking, and talking was good.
    “One really good thing did happen today, though,” she said as they sat down at the table.
    “What’s that?” Liam asked, taking a sip of his beer.
    “I met a really cute boy.”
    Good? This wasn’t good . Not at all. “What kind of boy?” he asked.
    “The nice kind.”
    “What does that mean? What did he do that was nice?”
    “He just was.” She smiled, a sweet, private smile, and Liam felt sweat break out on his back.
    “How? How was this niceness demonstrated, Nicole? How is someone nice just by being? There must’ve been something he did or said—”
    “Jeez, Dad. Chill. You don’t have to wig out. I’m not pregnant or anything.”
    He lurched to his feet. “Of course you’re not pregnant! Because you’re not having sex! Because you wouldn’t do that. Ever. Are we clear on this?”
    Nicole rolled her eyes. “Dad. Relax, okay? I was joking.”
    “Yeah, well, this nice boy is not nice. Trust me. I’ve been a boy. You have no idea how not nice we are.” He sat back down.
    “We might go to the movies.”
    “No. You’re too young to date.”
    “Daddy,” Nicole said, that sweet little-girl note in her voice that worked so well. “Don’t be a jerk, okay?”
    “Not dating. Too young. Eat your supper.”
    “Fine! I won’t ever date! Like I’m not enough of a freak because Mom died, I’ll just stay locked in this stupid apartment for the rest of my life. Would that make you happy?” She shoved her plate back, stood up and stormed off to her room.
    “Nicole,” he called. Her door slammed. “Don’t forget you have that Spanish test tomorrow.”
    The Ramones began again—“I Wanna Be Sedated.” They weren’t the only ones.
    Liam looked at his plate, sighed and pushed it away. His beer, on the other hand, was most welcome. He took a long pull, then looked at the ceiling. “Thanks, babe,” he said quietly. “You had some nerve, leaving me alone with a teenage girl.”
    Maybe this hadn’t been the right move after all. Maybe he was screwing up Nicole beyond repair, and she’d end up tattooed and pregnant and on the back of some