Truly Madly Yours

“What did Louie say?”

“That I’m too young to worry about boys.”

“Oh.” He leaned forward and grabbed her hand. “Well, I would never say that,” he lied.

“I know. That’s why I came to talk to you. And it’s not just Kyle. No boys ever notice me.” She dragged her backpack into her lap and slumped in the chair, a lump of misery. “I hate it.”

And he hated to see her so unhappy. He’d helped Louie raise Sophie, and she was the only female he’d ever felt completely free to show affection and love. The two of them could sit and watch a movie together or play Monopoly, and she never pried into his life or hung on to his neck too tight. “What do you want me to do?”

“Tell me what boys like in girls.”

“Eighth grade boys?” He scratched the side of his jaw and paused to think a moment. He didn’t want to lie, yet he didn’t want to spoil her innocent illusions, either.

“I thought since you have a lot of girlfriends, you would know.”

“A lot of girlfriends?” He watched her pull a bottle of green fingernail polish from her backpack. “I don’t have a lot of girlfriends. Who told you something like that?”

“No one had to tell me.” She shrugged. “Gail is a girlfriend.”

He hadn’t seen Gail since a few weeks before Halloween, and that had been a week ago. “She was just a friend,” he said. “And we broke it off last month.” Actually, he’d broken things off with her and she hadn’t been pleased.

“Well, what did you like about her?” she asked as she added a coat of green polish over an existing layer of navy blue.

The few things he’d liked about Gail, he could hardly tell his thirteen-year-old niece. “She had nice hair.”

“That’s it? You would date a girl just because you liked her hair?”

Probably not. “Yep.”

“What’s your favorite hair color?”

Red. Different shades of red all streaked together and tangled up in his fingers. “Brown.”

“What else do you like?”

Pink lips and pink boas. “A good smile.”

Sophie looked up at him and grinned, her mouth filled with metal and mauve rubber bands. “Like this?”

“Yep.”

“What else?”

This time he answered with the truth. “Big brown eyes, and I like a girl who can stand up to me.” And, he realized, he’d developed an appreciation of sarcasm.

She dipped the brush into the polish and went to work on her other hand. “Do you think girls should call boys?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“Grandma says girls who call boys are wild. She says you and dad never got into trouble with wild girls because she never let you talk on the phone when they called.”

His mother was the only person he know who had the ability to see only what she chose and nothing else. Growing up, both Nick and Louie had found their fair share of trouble without the telephone. Louie had gone on to get a girl pregnant his last year of college. And when a Basque boy got a good Catholic girl pregnant, the result was an inevitable wedding at St. John’s Cathedral. “Your grandmother remembers only what she wants to remember,” he told Sophie. “If you want to talk to a boy on the phone, I don’t see why you shouldn’t, but you better ask your dad first.” He watched her blow on her wet nails. “Maybe you should talk to Lisa about all this girl stuff. She’s going to be your stepmom in about a week.”

Sophie shook her head. “I’d rather talk to you.”

“I thought you liked Lisa.”

“She’s okay, but I like talking to you better. Besides, she stuck me at the end of the bridesmaid line.”

“Probably because you’re shortest.”

“Maybe.” She studied her polish a moment, then looked up. “Do you want me to paint your nails?”

“No way. The last time you did that, I forgot to take it off and the clerk at the Gas-n-Go gave me a funny look.”

“Pleeaase.”

“Forget it, Sophie.”

She frowned and carefully screwed the cap back on her polish. “Not only am I last in the line now, I have to stand next to you-know-who.”

“Who?”

“Her.” Sophie pointed to the wall. “Over there.”

“Delaney?” When she nodded Nick asked her, “Why should that matter?”

“You know.”

“No. Why don’t you tell me.”

“Grandma said that girl over there lived with your dad, and he was nice to her and mean to you. And he gave her nice clothes and stuff and you had to wear old jeans.”

“I like old jeans.” He reached for his pencil and studied Sophie’s face. Her mouth was pinched at the corners like his mother’s whenever she spoke of Delaney. Henry had certainly given Benita reasons for bitterness, but Nick didn’t like to see Sophie affected by it. “Whatever happened, or didn’t happen, between me and my father, had nothing to do with Delaney.”

“You don’t hate her?”

Hating Delaney had never been his problem. “No, I don’t hate her.”

“Oh.” She stuffed the fingernail polish into her backpack and reached for her coat on the back of her chair. “Will you take me to my orthodontist appointment at the end of the month?”

Nick stood and helped her with her coat. Sophie’s appointment was almost a two-hour drive one way. “Can’t your dad take you?”

“He’ll be on his honeymoon.”

“Oh, yeah. I’ll take you then.”

As he walked her to the door she wrapped one arm around his waist. “Are you sure you’re never getting married, Uncle Nick?”

“Yes.”

“Grandma says you just need to find a nice Catholic girl. Then you’ll be happy.”

“I’m already happy.”

“Grandma says you need to fall in love with a Basque woman.”

“Sounds like you’ve been spending way too much time talking about me with Grandma.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re never getting married.”

He reached up and pulled a hunk of her smooth black hair. “Why?”

“ ‘Cause I like having you all to myself.”

Nick stood on the sidewalk in front of his office and watch his niece walk down the street. Sophie was spending too much time with his mother. He figured it was only a matter of time before Benita lured her to the dark side, and Sophie began to nag him about marrying a nice “Basque” woman, too.

He shoved his hands up to his knuckles in the front pockets his jeans. Louie was the marrying kind. Not Nick. Louie’s first marriage hadn’t lasted more than six years, but his brother had liked being married. He’d liked the comfort of living with a woman. Louie had always known he would remarry. He’d always known he would fall in love, but it had taken him close to eight years after his divorce to find the right woman. Nick didn’t doubt that his brother would be happy with Lisa.

The door to Delaney’s salon swung open and an old lady with one of those silver-dome hairdos ambled out. As she passed, she stared at him as if she knew he was up to no good. He laughed beneath his breath and lifted his gaze to the window. Through the glass he watched Delaney sweep the floor, then head toward the back with a dustpan. He watched her straight shoulders and back, and the sway of her hips beneath a sweater skirt that clung to her round behind. A heavy ache settled in his groin, and he thought about perfect white breasts and pink feathers. He thought of her big brown eyes, her long lashes, and the lust pulling at her heavy lids, her mouth wet