THANKSGIVING DAY dawned bleak and gray in the Big Apple. Liam saw the dawn because he set the clock early to go to the pub and put in the turkeys. Luckily they had two good-size ovens. With the entire O’Neil clan coming for dinner, they’d need all the space they could get. The Secret Service had provided the food and drink, but the O’Neils were cooking it.
He dressed in clothes to cook in—jeans and a long-sleeved thermal shirt—wondering if Sophie was still asleep. He hoped so. She was on twenty-four-hour duty today and had told him the holiday would be hectic with kitchen fires and electrical short outs. Uptown, the FDNY would be busy because of the Macy’s parade. Hell, he hated thinking about Sophie in the midst of all that action. She should be relaxing with family on Thanksgiving.
As he walked to the subway in the cold, windy morning, he thought about how distant she’d seemed this week. Since he’d told her he loved her. And she’d said it back. Maybe it was too soon to declare their feelings, but Liam didn’t regret the words. He knew the tenuousness of life.
Especially hers.
He kept thinking about their troubled relationship as the train approached, and he got on and rode to the pub. When he was at the back door, he was still stewing about her. “Fuck! This is not easy.” He raised his eyes to the sky. “Come on, give me a break!”
Once in the kitchen, he prepared the birds and shoved them into the ovens. The whole time, he talked to God. “I try to be a good person. I put the needs of my kids first, most of the time my family’s. I lost the woman I’d loved since I was a kid. Can I please have something go right again?”
The back door opened, startling him. His brothers were coming in to help prepare food, but it was too early for that.
“Hey there, handsome.” Sophie. Already in her uniform, wearing her shiny blue outer jacket, her cheeks were rosy from the cold morning. Her hair was down and fluffy, and the lights caught the reddish strands and played with them.
“Aren’t you the answer to my prayers.”
She sashayed toward him, slid her arms around his neck and kissed him thoroughly. Thoughts—and prayers—fled from his mind. He drew her closer, deepened the kiss and she gave him tongue action. After a long time, they pulled back. “Well, Happy Thanksgiving to you, too.”
“I can stay for a while.
“Great. Did you eat?”
“No, but that’s okay.”
“Let me make us something. I’m hungry.” He gave her a quick nuzzle. “Very hungry, after that kiss, darlin’.”
“I’ll help.” She removed her coat, draped it over a chair and crossed to the counter.
She worked on toast and he fried bacon and eggs; they did the chores in relative silence, sipping the strong coffee she favored and he’d brewed earlier. Once they were seated on stools at the butcher block with full plates in front of them, she motioned to the kitchen. “You fixing the meal by yourself?”
“No. The guys are coming in a couple of hours. I told them to sleep in some. No sense in all of us getting up at the crack of dawn.”
“You’re a nice guy, Liam O’Neil.”
“I was just telling somebody that.”
“Who?”
“Never mind.” He arched a brow. “But I was kind of hoping you were seeing a different side to me.”
“Oh, I am. A very sexy side. But you’re still a nice guy.”
He watched her on the sly as she attacked the breakfast. He loved how she ate with passion. “The whole family’s coming?” she asked between mouthfuls.
“Then some. Brie’s parents are in town, so they’ll be here. And Cara’s dad’s working today, so Mikey invited her and her mother. I think Dylan has a date.”
“With who?”
“Some redhead, of course.” He rolled his eyes. “Then the Secret Service will descend. I cooked an extra turkey just for them.”
“No kidding?” She shook her head. “It’s amazing how your sister lives.”
“It’ll be worse if Clay runs for president.”
“Who knows? You might be having Thanksgiving dinner in the White House someday.”
He waited. “Just me?”
“And the kids, of course. Your family.”
“That’s not what I meant.” At her questioning look, he said, “Maybe you, too, sweetheart.”
She just stared at him.
Her reaction pissed him off again. “Soph, people who love each other make plans.”
“Don’t you think it’s too soon for that?”
“No.” He stood and cleared his plate. “But obviously, you do.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to. All week, by the way.”
“What does that mean?”
He put the dishes in the sink then turned toward her. “That since that night we confessed to loving each other, you’ve been acting strangely.”
“We had some rough fires. I’ve been distracted.”
“So you admit the behavior change.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth.”
Liam shook his head. Just a few minutes ago, they were practically jumping each other’s bones. Nothing like this had ever happened with Kitty, this change of mood so fast it left him floundering. “Is something wrong? Because if it is, we can talk about it.”
He could tell he hit a nerve by how her mouth tightened.
“What is it?”
“I didn’t want to talk about this with you yet.”
Coming back to the counter, he braced his hands on its edge. “You can’t leave me hanging, now.”
She sipped her coffee then looked up at him. “Liam, after you told me you loved me, I had a hard time in the fire.”
“Define hard time.”
“I sort of froze when the fellowship hall of the church exploded.”
“As any sane person might.”
“No, it’s deadly for a firefighter to freeze, even for a split second.”
“Are you saying this is my fault?”
“In a way. I was thinking about you. And it happened when I was rappelling, too. I thought about you and Mikey and froze for a minute suspended in midair.”
“Jesus Christ, buildings exploding and dangling hundreds of feet up in the air are things to freeze about.”
“Not for firefighters. My captain caught on. He gave me a warning.”
“For what?”
“That if I can’t do my job and be in love, then I gotta choose.”
“This is crazy. Other firefighters are married. Have kids.”
“Maybe they’ve been through this before. Mackenzie said it was hard for him after his son was born, knowing he risked his life every day.”
“There you go.”
“He took some leave, got his head on straight.”
Now that would be an answer to his prayers, at least temporarily. “You could take some time off.”
“No! People would see me as a weak female who can’t handle the job. I can’t afford to show any vulnerability. I’d be a sitting duck for their criticism the rest of my career.”
“Sweetheart...”
“No! End of discussion. I have to deal with this alone.”
“Not alone, Soph. You’ve got me.”
“You’re the problem.”
“Is that what I am now?”
Shoving back the stool, she stood. “I shouldn’t have told you.”
“No, you should have. It just makes me mad to think you feel bad about loving me. Loving the boys.”
“If it destroys my career, I do.”
“That’s a pretty big leap.” She just watched him. “What are you going to do?”
“Nothing. Now. I’m hoping I don’t panic on runs today.”
“So, I should be waiting with bated breath to see how you react in fires and if it’s bad, we’re done? Great Thanksgiving present.”
She crossed to him and surprised him by sidling between him and the counter and resting her head on his chest. It was an incredibly tender gesture and had his arms coming around her. “No, we wouldn’t be done if that happened. It would just tell me if this is an aberration or the norm. Then I’ll deal with it.”
“Oh, that makes me feel better. I’ll have no say.”
Abruptly, she pulled away. “Give me a break, Liam.”
“I’m sorry, this is unexpected.”
“For me, too.” She glanced at the clock. “I gotta go. I’m sorry if I ruined your Thanksgiving.”
“I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about m—” He shook his head. “I guess that’s the issue.”
“Can I call you today? Just to hear your voice.”
Now he felt like shit. “Of course you can. Try to enjoy your turkey dinner.”
“It won’t be as good as yours.” She kissed his cheek. “I do love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Which, he thought as she walked out, was not as joyful as it should be on Thanksgiving day.
o0o
DYLAN HAD ALWAYS thought he came from a normal family. But as he scanned the pub, he had to chuckle at how wrong he’d been. Like always, the kids had their own tables, and Cleary, Hogan and Pat’s sons Sean and Sinead were jabbing each other. The younger ones, Kathleen, Rory, Mike and the little girl he’d invited were tucked in a corner and quieter.
But it was the big table—really several smaller ones pushed together—that was not Norman Rockwell. The vice president of the United States and the Second Lady were at one end. Angel was in a high chair next to Bailey, Tyler closer to Clay asleep in a carrier. Standing post ten feet away at the front of the pub, and at the back door, were black-suited Secret Service agents.
Bailey lifted her glass. “To my brother, for this wonderful meal. Thanks, Liam. Slainté.”
After they all raised their glasses and toasted Liam, Dylan pretended offense. “You know, we helped. I made the onions and applesauce.”
Pat waved his hand. “I fixed the sweet potatoes and vegetables.”
Aidan, who was having a hard time enjoying himself—that kid could be impossible—tried a smile. “Mama and I made the desserts, right, beautiful?”
“You watched,” C.J. said. Before they’d gone to her mother’s house for a few days of Ludzecky-style celebration, Aidan had helped Mama bake.
Ma patted her youngest son’s arm. “He was good company.”
The joking began again. But Liam got up and crossed to the buffet table. Dylan sensed something was wrong again, and he’d bet it was spelled S-o-p-h-i-e. Excusing himself from his date, Colleen Lucas, a dancer with a small ballet company, he followed Liam. “Need more food out?”
“Yeah, the service is going to eat in shifts.”
“Bring on the second turkey.”
“This will be the fourth, buddy.”
“I’ll help.” He followed Liam to the kitchen; Liam lifted another turkey from the oven where it was warming, and Dylan handed him the knife. They talked as his brother sliced the bird in quick, efficient movements.
“Your date’s a looker.”
“Gotta love those dancers.”
“Hmm.”
“Why don’t you call her?”
Liam stopped slicing. “Honestly?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m afraid to. It bothers me that she’s out on the streets today. I don’t want to know the details.”
“Just tell her you love her.”
At Liam’s surprised look, Dylan chuckled. “It’s obvious. But I could always read you like a book anyway.”
“Time for a change of subject. How’s Hogan?”
“Glad to be here.”
“Where’s Stephanie?”
“In Paris. She never lets up, even on holidays.”
“What is it with our women? Brie’s not around enough to suit Pat. Stephanie chose her career. Aidan’s still pissed off about C.J.’s protective duty, and Sophie’s schedule is impossible.”
“I was just thinking how we always used to be a normal family.” His dark brows narrowed. “I never expected life to turn out this way.”
Liam transferred meat to the platter. “We don’t sound very grateful for all we have today.”
“No, I guess not.”
Handing Dylan the first tray of meat, Liam gave him a fake smile. “Here, take this out.”
When Dylan brought the turkey to the buffet table, his sister stood and crossed to Mitch Calloway. “All right, this was the deal. Organize the shifts now so you can take turns eating.”
Mitch’s lips thinned. “It’s not protocol, Ms. O’Neil.”
“I’ll sic Clay on you.”
“All right.”
Dylan slid his arm around his sister. “Rules with a velvet fist, this one.”
“Not so velvet,” Mitch grumbled.
But he got the guys—and one woman who’d been added to Clay’s detail—to get ready to eat. C.J. stood, talked to a couple of the agents, then came over to Dylan.
“How’s the shoulder?” he asked.
“I’m back at work.” She smiled but looked tired. “You’d think I was at death’s door.”
“He gets scared.”
C.J. nodded. “I know. I hate that my job worries him, but I gotta be who I am, Dyl.”
He’d heard that from Stephanie. The good thing in his brother’s situation was that C.J. loved Aidan wholeheartedly. Whereas Stephanie—who knew where her head was at. “He’ll be okay.”
“I know.” She wrinkled her nose. “I just hate fighting about this again.”
Dylan glanced to the kitchen. Suddenly he felt really sorry for Liam. His brother was right—his life with a New York City firefighter was never going to be easy.
o0o
“IS THE GRAVY hot?” Al Daniels asked.
Sophie tested it with her finger. “Yep.”
“Think we’ll get to eat this meal?”
“I’ve worked several Thanksgivings. I’m running about fifty-fifty.”
Al smiled over at her. “Nice of you to sub for Cameron. His wife rags on him about holidays.”
Join the club.
“How about you, Al? Any family to miss you?”
“Divorced.” He moved the turkey from the stove top to the counter. “I couldn’t make it work with the wife.” He nodded to the living area. “Notice how few family members came?”
“Yeah, I did. Too bad.”
“I dig this job, but it’s got its drawbacks.” He nodded to the table. “Put the gravy on the hot plate and get the salads out of the fridge.”
As she worked, Sophie thought about the four runs they’d had this morning.
A kitchen fire that Daniels said he could have pissed on and put out.
A Christmas tree fit for the first time that burned out part of a living room.
A car accident over in the Village. Sophie had had to climb inside the cab again.
And a bar near Bailey’s Irish Pub whose stove had caught on fire.
Minor runs. No panic.
His back to her, Daniels said, “Call the troops.”
Sophie went into the living area. There were about twenty-five people in here. Two dozen smoke eaters. Two battalion chiefs. Two wives. Six kids. The mother and sister of one of the guys. Sophie tried to imagine Liam here for dinner and missing the holiday with his boisterous family. She tried to picture Mary Kate O’Neil, or Patrick, spending mealtime at a firehouse. No way. And that didn’t even touch the vice president and his family. As she studied the group assembled, she wondered if she was kidding herself. Was she ever going to fit into his life or him into hers?
When everybody sat down and the battalion chief had given a blessing, the tone sounded.
“Box 66. 10-75. Two alarm. Engine 33 and Truck 44 go into service.”
The swearing was kept to a minimum in deference to the kids, but the faces in the room told a story loud and clear: pouts from the children, rage on one wife’s face, a mother’s sadness
With a heavy heart, Sophie strode out of the kitchen to the bay.
o0o
SOMETHING WAS WRONG with his dad. Mike could tell. He was smiling, but not with his eyes. His mom used to say that was how you knew when Dad was pretending. So Mike left his cousins and went to the kitchen. “Dad?”
His father was over by the window staring at the snowflakes that fell outside. He turned around. “Hey, buddy, need something?”
“Nope.” He glanced at the phone on the table. “Sophie call?”
“Uh, no.”
“I feel bad she isn’t here.”
“Me, too.”
“Why don’t you call her?”
“She said she’d call us. She might have runs and not be there. Aren’t you having fun out there?”
“Uh-huh.”
His dad squatted down. “Come here, Mike.” When Mike crossed the room, his father grasped him by the shoulders and looked him in the eye. “You miss Mom? You said last year that you missed her most on holidays.”
Mike had talked to her picture last night. Asked her if it was okay that Sophie was in their lives this Thanksgiving and Christmas. She said yes.
“Not as much as before.”
His dad seemed surprised.
“I like having Sophie around.”
A big, fat frown from his father.
Mike didn’t understand. “You don’t feel better with her being with us?”
“Yeah, I guess I do. I just didn’t associate it with missing Mom or not.”
“Is that bad, Dad?”
“No, of course not. Your mom would want you to be happy.”
“You, too.”
He just nodded.
“You sure I can’t call her?”
“I guess it’d be okay.”
His dad gave him the phone and he punched in Sophie’s cell phone.
“You know her number by heart, son?”
“Yeah, sure. Don’t you?” Mikey heard, “This is Sophie. Leave a message.”
He clicked off. “She’s not there. Think she’s fighting a fire?”
“Could be.”
“I’m going back out to see Cara.”
“All right.”
He hugged his father. “I wish you weren’t sad today.”
“I’m not, honey.”
Mike shook his head. His dad was lying. That made Mike even sadder.
o0o
AS MIKE LEFT, Cara’s mother, Julia, a nice-looking blonde with a cute smile, walked into the kitchen. She ruffled his son’s hair as they passed each other.
“Hey, Julia. Need something?” Liam asked.
“I was hoping I could help you. I feel useless.”
“You’re our guest.”
“Please, let me do something.”
Liam smiled over at her. “The wine you brought was enough.”
She held up the glass she’d carried into the kitchen. “I know your sister and her husband can’t drink this, but would you like some?”
“Sure, I’ll have a glass.”
She poured him some, handed it to him, then said, “Put me to work.”
He sipped the wine. “Hmm, good. You can slice more bread. Some of the agents might want sandwiches.”
Near to her now at the counter, Liam noticed several things about Julia Cahill. She was very pretty, but her eyes were weary. Though she was dressed in a nice peach skirt and sweater, she seemed a bit pale.
“Sorry your husband couldn’t make it.”
Lines formed around her mouth when she looked up. “Hazard of the job.”
“Tell me about it.” He glanced at his cell phone, which he’d put on the table for when Sophie called.
Julia tracked his gaze. “I noticed Sophie isn’t here. I like her and appreciated the interest she took in Cara.”
“I wish she could have had dinner with us.”
“Work?”
“Yep.” He cocked his head and impulsively asked, “How do you do it, Julia? Make it work when your husband has a dangerous job with a crazy schedule?”
A pause. “I don’t do it very well.”
Liam stilled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“No, that’s okay. It’s been tough for me for a long time. We’re at a low point now. Johnny wants another baby, and I can’t handle any more responsibility as pretty much the sole caregiver.”
“I know all about that, too. Single parenting is hard.”
“Cara doesn’t suspect anything’s wrong, but Johnny and I talk about divorce...oh, maybe every six months.”
“Have you tried counseling?”
“He won’t go. He says it’s the nature of his job and he can’t change that.” She shook her head. “Listen to my mouth running. I must have had too much of my own wine.”
“I’m sorry. If it’s any help, I truly do understand.”
“And I’m sorry for rambling.” She nodded to the turkey. “I guess you couldn’t go to the firehouse for dinner.”
“Excuse me?”
“Families of firefighters can go to the firehouse on holidays. I always envied that about them, as opposed to cops.”
“Uh, she didn’t invite me.”
“Well, you couldn’t have gone anyway.”
“Yeah, right.”
She nodded to the second platter of turkey. “Go, take that out. I’ll follow with the bread as soon as it’s sliced.”
Liam served the food thinking about Cara and her mother, discouraged by Julia’s admissions. And about the non-invitation to the firehouse. God, was no one happy?
When he returned to the kitchen, Julia had her back to him and was holding his cell phone in her hand, speaking into it. “Um, yes this is Liam’s number. I’ll get him.” She turned. “I saw you looking at the phone. It rang so I answered it. I think it’s Sophie.”
“Oh, thanks.”
Liam took the phone, and Julia said, “I’ll be leaving.”
When he was alone, he spoke into his cell. “Hello?”
“Who the hell was answering your phone, Liam?”
o0o
SOPHIE WAS UP in the bunk room and had given a lot of thought to calling Liam. Now, she wished she hadn’t. “I asked who that was.”
“I heard you. How could I not? You were yelling.” His voice sounded strained.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. I just didn’t expect another woman to answer your phone.” No response. “Who was it?”
“Julia Cahill.”
“Cara’s mother?” Tall. Willowy. Blond.
“Uh-huh. Mike invited them because her husband had to work today.” He added, “New York’s Finest don’t get a break, either, I guess.”
O-kay. She had a choice. Ruin the call, or forget about Liam keeping company with a beautiful woman he had a lot in common with. “How was dinner?”
“Great. It’s a zoo, though. The Secret Service has to eat in shifts. We just got their food out.”
We. “Crazy life Bailey leads. How’s my namesake?”
“Holding court. Between him and Angel and Isabella, people are getting their fill of babies.”
“Sweet.”
“You want a baby, Sophie?”
A long pause on her end. “Where did that come from?”
“I don’t know. I just thought of it. Do you?”
“I guess. I don’t know how I’d balance that, too.”
“I agree it’d be a problem.”
Of course you do.
“Do other female firefighters have kids?”
“Yes. You know that.”
“Any working today?”
“Liam, where is this going?”
“Sorry. I’m melancholy, I guess.” He waited and so did she. “How was your dinner?”
“Cold. We got a run as soon as it was served.”
“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry.”
“We ate when we got back, but it wasn’t the same.”
“Been busy?”
“Uh-huh. Routine stuff mostly.”
“Catch any fires?”
“Minor ones.”
In the background, she heard, “Hey, Dad, come on, the Secret Service just brought in Sean’s birthday cake.”
“Be right there.”
“I’ll let you go.”
“What time will you go to sleep, if you don’t have a run?”
“Around midnight.”
“I’ll call you before then, when everyone’s gone.”
“Okay. I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you, too, a ghrá.”
Sophie clicked off her phone and stared at it. Stretched out on the cot, she closed her eyes. It had been a very unsatisfactory phone call. Added to what happened earlier...
A rolling fire. A roof that needed to be ventilated. And when it was, flames shooting up through it. Al Daniels had been burned.
And once again, for a few seconds, Sophie had frozen.