Her caller tapped on the door before she could reach it, sounding impatient. “Hello? Delivery.”
A delivery? On a Sunday?
She checked the peephole. The young man wore a uniform shirt and carried a huge bouquet of flowers. She opened the door.
The flowers were roses. Red, lush, fragrant, arranged in a crystal vase. The deliveryman thrust them at
her, along with a gold-wrapped box. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
“Thank you. Wait, I’ll—”
But he was already moving away, waving off her words. “Got a bunch of deliveries this afternoon. Have a good day,” he called over his shoulder.
Closing the door with her hip, she cradled the vase of flowers in the crook of one arm and carried that and the box to the table. She couldn’t resist burying her nose in the blooms for a moment before setting the vase down. She loved the scent of roses. She also loved chocolates, she thought with an appreciative eye at the familiar box. She would ration those for days, savoring them for as long as they lasted. How sweet of Liam to—
Happy Valentine’s Day, Anne. Love, Mom and Dad.
The card had been tucked into the roses. She stared at it blankly for a moment.
Well. Wasn’t that thoughtful of her parents, to send her such a nice surprise gift? Her mother always made a point of sending her a card or something for Valentine’s Day, but this was more elaborate than usual. Remembering her mom’s little pep talk at the end of their last dinner together, she supposed her parents thought she needed the pick-me-up at this point in her education.
She would have to call immediately to thank them. She told herself the roses were just as lovely, the candy just as deliciously tempting as they’d been when she’d thought they were from Liam. It was petty and ungrateful to be even a little disappointed by such a nice gesture.
Blinking rapidly, she reached for her phone, a bright smile pasted on her face in the hope that it would be reflected in her voice when she spoke with her all-too-perceptive mother.
She didn’t hear from Liam again until seven o’clock Monday morning. She’d just gotten out of the shower and dressed for class in jeans and a sweater and was tying off her braid when her phone rang.
Noting Liam’s number in relief, she answered quickly. “Liam? I was getting worried.”
“Sorry, I had some flight delays. I didn’t get here until the middle of the night, your time, and I didn’t want to wake you.”
He sounded exhausted and…sad? “How is your father?”
The faintest of exhales sounded through the very long distance between them, preparing her for his reply. “He didn’t make it, Annie. He died an hour before I arrived.”
And Liam hadn’t had the chance to tell him goodbye.
Her eyes filled. “Oh, Liam, I’m so sorry.”
Liam’s relationship with his father, Duncan McCright, had been complicated, to say the least. He’d barely known the man who’d left the country when Liam was just a child. They had reconnected five years ago—not long after she and Liam had broken up in college and had kept in touch since.
Liam had told her his father had expressed regrets at his actions after the divorce, and for the alcoholism that had separated him from his wife and his son and from everyone else who had cared about him. Duncan had been sober for ten years. He and Liam had seen each other several times during the past five and had healed a lot of old wounds. Their connection hadn’t been a close one, exactly, but had been growing more so.
She’d met Duncan herself that summer before medical school when she and Liam had been together in London. Despite his flaws, she had liked Duncan very much, seeing in him many of the same qualities she’d always admired in Liam.
If only there had been more time….
The thought of losing her own dad so abruptly filled her with even greater sadness. “Are you all right? Is there anything I can do for you? Are you sure you don’t need me there?”
“No, that’s still not necessary. But it still means a lot that you’ve offered.” His voice was husky with a mixture of emotion and weariness.
“You’d do the same for me.”
It bothered her that both times she had offered to join him, she had suspected he would turn her down. Had that made it easier for her to volunteer? Would she have dropped everything, risked falling behind in her classes to go with him? She wanted to believe she would.
Did Liam have faith that she would have chosen his needs over her own, if she’d had to make the choice?
Pushing those concerns aside, she asked quietly, “Do you want to talk?”