Too Good to Be True - Kristan Higgins [77]
Callahan didn’t answer for a second. “I don’t think so.”
A hundred questions burned to be asked. Does he know you were in prison? What did you do before prison? Why doesn’t your brother speak to you? Why’d you do it, Cal?
“So, Cal,” I began, taking a left on Elm Street, Angus helping me steer, “how’s your house coming along?”
“It’s pretty nice,” he said. “You should come over and take a look.”
I glanced at him. “Sure.” I hesitated, then decided to go for it. “Callahan, I was wondering. What did you do in your pre-prison life?”
He looked at me. “I was an accountant,” he said.
“Really?” I’d have guessed something outdoor-related—cowboy, for example. Not a desk job. “Don’t want to do that again, then? Kind of boring, is it?”
“I lost my license when I broke the law, Grace.”
Oh, crap, right. “So why did you break the law?” I asked.
Cal merely looked at me. “Why do you want to know so badly?”
“Because!” I answered. “It’s not every day you live next door to a convicted felon.”
“Maybe I don’t want to be thought of as a convicted felon, Grace. Maybe I want to be thought of as the person I am now. Make up for lost time and leave the past behind and all that crap.”
“Ah, how sweet. Well, I am a history teacher, Mr. O’Shea. The past matters very much to me.”
“I’m sure it does.” His voice was cool.
“The best indicator of the future is past behavior,” I intoned.
“Who said that? Abe Lincoln?”
“Dr. Phil, actually.” I smiled. He didn’t smile back.
“So what are you saying, Grace? You expect me to embezzle from you?”
“No! Just… well, you obviously felt the need to break the law, so what does that say? It says something, but since you won’t open your mouth and speak, I don’t know what it is.”
“What does your past say about you?” he asked.
My past was Andrew. What did it say? That I wasn’t a good judge of character? That when compared with Natalie, I didn’t measure up? That I wasn’t quite good enough? That Andrew was a jerk?
“There’s the lake,” I commented. “If you’re planning on dumping my body there, you’d better get to it.”
His mouth pulled up in one corner, but he didn’t answer.
We pulled onto our street. “About your truck,” I said. “I’m really sorry. I’ll call my insurance agent tomorrow.”
“I take it you have him on speed dial,” Callahan said.
“Very funny.”
He laughed, an ashy, low laugh that hit me right in the pit of my stomach. “Thanks for the ride, Grace,” he said.
“If you ever want to confess your sins, I’m available.”
“Now you’ve gone from a martyr to a priest. Good night, Grace.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“IT’S…UH, BEAUTIFUL,” I said, blinking down at the ring. Oh, heck, it was. The diamond was about a carat, maybe a little more, a nice chunky thing, pear-shaped, pretty setting. I loved it. I owned it, in fact. Well, no, that’s not quite true. I owned its twin, which sat in my jewelry box at home, waiting for me to pawn it. For heaven’s sake. Couldn’t Andrew be a little more original? I mean, come on! He’d picked sisters to become his fiancées… at least he could’ve picked out different rings, for crying out loud.
“Thanks,” Nat said, blissfully unaware that we now had matching engagement rings from the same man. We were sitting in the backyard of our parents’ house, just Nat and me. The rest of the gang was inside—Andrew, Mémé, Margaret, Mom and Dad.
“You’re sure this is okay with you?” Natalie asked, slipping her hand into mine.
“The only thing that’s not okay is you constantly asking if I’m okay,” I said a bit sharply. “Really, Natalie. Please stop.” Then, guilty at my irritation, I squeezed her hand. “I’m glad you’re happy.”
“You’ve been just amazing, Grace. Getting Andrew and me together… that was above and beyond the call.”
You’re telling me. I gave a snort, then glanced at my little sister. The sun was shining on her hair, her dark gold eyelashes brushing her cheeks as she gazed at her ring.
“So have you set a date?” I asked.
“Well, I wanted to ask your opinion on that,” she said, looking