And Matthew, contrary to what she had expected, had fielded Johnny’s every question and totally ignored her. He took the child’s interrogation seriously and treated him with respect. A stranger might have even thought Matthew relaxed. But Lorna was vibrantly aware of the way the muscle in his jaw continually tightened, of the way he deliberately avoided looking at her, of the absolutely controlled quality of his voice. And when Johnny neatly sidestepped helping with the dishes and ignored Lorna’s request to pick up his toys, Matthew’s black eyes had fired, though he hadn’t said a word.

It was hardly an instant love affair between uncle and nephew. Not that Lorna had expected it to be, but she hadn’t anticipated how it would wrench her heart to see the two of them together. Both hoarded their feelings as if they were gold; both had the same square jaw; both were possessive and protective. Johnny’s right shoulder shifted exactly the way Matthew’s did when he was uncomfortable. They had beautiful, even white teeth. Both had an abundance of arrogant self-confidence, a quality Lorna alternately resented and envied.

Tears threatened suddenly. Matthew was family. He and Richard, Sr., were the only family Johnny had besides her. She stood up, rapidly applying a bit of blusher to her cheeks. She hadn’t been this emotionally exhausted in a long time, and she had no desire to face Matthew again. She knew he hadn’t seen beyond Johnny’s blond hair and freckles. The only conclusion she could possibly draw was that Johnny reminded him of the kind of woman he thought she was or had been. The kind of woman who would be unfaithful less than a year into her marriage, the kind for whom a vow of love meant so little…

Lorna slipped off her high-heeled shoes, irrationally deciding that she could face anything as long as her toes weren’t pinched, and padded back out into the living room.

Matthew was standing before the white marble fireplace, looking at a photograph of Lorna and Johnny at a picnic a few years before.