A Notion of Love by Abbie Williams Page A

under my discarded work shirt. Undoubtedly I smelled horrible.
    â€œWhat are you doing out here?” he asked, his dark gaze holding mine.
    â€œFeeling sorry for myself,” I admitted at last.
    Exactly as I had that August night on the boat landing, Justin moved behind me and then sat on the edge of the dock to my left, though he kept a good twelve inches of acceptable, proper distance between us. He said, “I thought I had the market cornered on that.”
    The air was still and soft, and I was so conscious of him beside me that my entire body felt wired. He sat with his long legs bent, forearms draped over the top, staring off over the lake in the same direction as me. His hair was even more wild than it had been this morning, his shirt stained with motor oil and sweat. But dammit, he was more appealing to me than I could even admit to myself. Because it was equal parts terrifying and exhilarating.
    I said, “No, God no.”
    â€œSo what was up this morning?” he asked, his voice low and with just a hint of teasing, despite everything.
    I angled a quick look his way, but back out over the lake almost instantly. I swished my bare feet in the water, buying a moment. Justin looked at me and his gaze skimmed over me, not lingering anywhere in particular, but I felt the heat in his eyes, to the point that my knees went weak. I wracked my mind considering how to make him look at me that way all the time. But by the time I dared to meet his eyes, he had hidden away anything but polite interest.
    â€œNothing,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Just tired.”
    â€œSo what are you feeling sorry for yourself about, Jilly-Anne?” he asked. The nickname came out of the ancient past; the summer I’d crushed so much on him, it was one of many he’d invented, making my first name into two. “Do I need to start yelling at you, or what?”
    I smiled a little at both his teasing and the old nickname, and then said, “I was just missing Jo. And thinking about Clint moving away from here in a few years. I can’t bear the thought.”
    â€œHe got to be a teenager so quick,” Justin said. “I remember seeing you around town with him by the hand, seems like yesterday.”
    â€œYeah, it does seem like yesterday,” I agreed. It felt so good to talk with him; his voice moved over me like something warm and almost caressing. I realized I was hugging myself around the middle and casually let my hands drift back to my lap.
    â€œHe reminds me so much of his dad,” Justin said then, catching me off guard. “I can’t imagine how that must be for you.”
    My throat was a little thick, but I said, “He’s very much like Chris.”
    â€œYou’re lucky to have him,” Justin said.
    I nodded agreement, not trusting my voice for that moment.
    â€œI always wondered what it would be like to have a couple kids,” Justin went on.
    â€œDidn’t…you guys didn’t…” I started to say and then trailed off, not sure what I was asking.
    But Justin seemed unruffled, saying, “We tried. Aubrey wasn’t entirely sold on the whole having kids thing. Now, though, I’m relieved. She would have taken the kids with her, probably, and that would have killed me.”
    Before I could think about it I said, “You’d be such a good dad. Like Dodge.”
    Justin laughed a little and from the corner of my eye I saw him shake his head. He said, “Well thanks. But I’m glad Aubrey and I didn’t have any. I wouldn’t want kids to have to go through a divorce. And I know from experience how much it sucks. Even as an adult.”
    â€œDo you hear from your mom very often?” I asked, looking over at him. His voice was uncharacteristically gentle and I realized he hadn’t sworn once, totally unusual for him. I wished I was brave enough to curl the fingers of my left hand around his right, which was