Page 68 of Love Expert

Eager, he bobs his head, glances at the dark sky, and murmurs his wish under his breath, his little lips moving with each word he speaks.

“You gotta do yours, too.” He cuts a quick look my way. “Don’t watch me! Make your own wish, silly.”

“Oh, shoot! Right.” My cheeks ache, the best kind of ache, as I tip my head back and search for my very own star. Drawing a deep breath, I close my eyes and wish…

For Aria Sinclair’s forgiveness. Because I’m here when she should be. Because I fell in love with the little boy she grew in her belly, carried for nine months, endured the pain of childbirth, and in the end, never got to know him anyway. I wish for forgiveness because I dreamed of the man she married, even throughout the years he was hers.

Maybe I claimed him first, way back on my first day of kindergarten when he towered over me, smiling with his gap-toothed charm, and offered to carry my bag because it was larger than me.Literally. Maybe Aria Sinclair didn’t even meet him until a year after that, sashaying her pigtailed self into class after her family moved to town.

Even then, her pigtails didn’t turn his head, our friendship endured, and not once in all the time I knew him did he prefer her company over mine.

But it happened eventually. Obviously.

I left, and she stayed, rendering my claim nothing more than a wish cast to the stars by a child enamored with her first ever boy crush.

Twenty-five years have passed since then, and if she were still alive, my claim would be worth nothing. Next-door neighbors or not, sometimes-babysitter or not, if Aria Sinclair had lived, I wouldn’t be here tonight, and please forgive me, my body wouldn’t be trembling from her husband’s touch.

Desperate, I count on my triple-strength wish and pray for her forgiveness.

“Wow,” Jeremy breathes, the crinkle of his chip packet drawing my eyes back down. “That must’ve been a doozy, huh? You wished for a while.”

“Only wishes worth making are the big kind.” I drop my hand onto the top of his head and inhale a shuddering, aching breath, because Jeremy Caster doesn’t just settle for my hand in his hair. He sidles up against my side and presses his cheek to my ribs, wrapping his arm around my hip and holding me close.

He hugs me, chews noisily, and grins through the mashed potato in his teeth. “I wish you could tell me your wish, Maggie. It looked like a really good one.” Soft laughter bounces through his chest. “Oh my gosh! My dad is so silly.”

“What?” My heart kicks into the next gear as I look left. Then right. I look back down at the boy, then I follow his line of sight and watch Billy peel his shirt over his head and unsnap his jeans. “What is he doing?”

“Human soup!” Jeremy slams the bag of chips against my belly and takes off at a sprint. “Throw me in, Dad! Quick, before Ramone says there’s no jumping.”

ROUND TWENTY-SIX

BILLY

Ramone’s hot tub isnotone of those four-person kinds, stretching six feet by six feet. No. Detective Devereaux went for something a little more extravagant, the kind that seats twenty people if twenty people felt the need to boil in each other’s juices at the same time.

Luckily for me, the tub remains empty besides my splashing son. Shucking my jeans down so I stand amongst dozens of my nearest and dearest in just a pair of boxer shorts, I kick my boots off and set everything on a chair to the side, since leaving them on the ground while my son splashes will end with soaked jeans.

“Looking good, Detective Caster.” Rosaline Valera, soon to be Rosaline Darling, nurses a single glass of white wine and wanders closer. Her lips quirk into a pretty smile, and her eyes dance, which is a nice change, considering how fucking terrified of literally everyone she was when we first met. She sips her wine and glances across the yard to where Maggie waits, clutching a bag of chips, and wearing a metric ton of ‘what the hell am I supposed to do now?’ on her face.

Swallowing, she brings her glittering gaze back my way. “She looks kinda scared.”

“She’s resilient. She’ll come over when she’s ready.” I don’t really feel like standing in front of someone else’s woman in just my underwear, and Iespeciallydon’t want Maggie to see me standing with someone else’s woman while I’m in nothing but my underwear, so I turn to the tub and climb in. Jeremy races around the edge on theshelf where bathers sit, but I keep an eye on him, too, because if he falls into the middle, he won’t be able to touch the ground without his head going under.

Goosebumps break out across my chest as I turn and lower into the warmth, and because I can’t stop myself, I sit facing Maggie, my lips quirking up in reaction to her nervous expression. “She’s shy, is all. But she’s brave, too.” I break the electrical current pulsing between us and meet Rose’s eyes instead. “Feel free to head on over and nudge her this way.”

“Ya know…” Instead of going to Maggie, she steps closer to the tub and sets her elbows on the frame. “I didn’t know Aria.”

I peek to my left to make sure Jeremy isn’t listening. “I know.”

“But Ollie did.” She tips her chin in his direction, grinning when their eyes meet. “He said Aria basically grew up inside his house. Best friends with his sister. Two decades of eating dinner with her, and with you, too, at least every other night of the week.” Slowly, she brings kind eyes back around. “He likes Maggie for you.”

“Rose—”

“No one’s pushing it. Not here, not tonight—except Ramone,” she snickers. “It’s clear we’re working with two extremely stubborn people,anda child,anda tragedy the town will forever feel. But, I dunno.” She shrugs, “He likes her. Thought you’d like to know.”

“You should go get her for me.” I settle deeper into the water and grin. “She’s resilient, but this is a lot of people, and she wasn’t explicitly invited across.”

Smirking, she turns on her heels, lifting her wine as she goes, and shows off a diamond ring that’ll soon lead to a wedding. A wedding I’ve been invited to stand up as best man in, despite how fucking shitty I treated Ollie after Aria’s death.