actually thought…
“What’d I say?”
Surprised that Luke had followed him out, Jamie glanced over at the guy. He should lie to Luke like he did to everybody else. But fuck it, he was so tired of pretending. So tired of covering up who he was.
And Ms. Carson had said, I’m not telling you what to do, Jame, but keeping secrets can make you sick. I know, I’ve seen it up close.
Luke asked again, “Jamie, what did I do wrong?”
Okay, he’d do this, but he couldn’t look at Luke, so he stared at the Rochester skyline. Gripping the balcony so hard it hurt, he blurted out, “You could start with your use of the term ‘queer.’”
A long, long silence. Great, now he’d done it.
Then he felt Luke’s hand on his shoulder. Strong, muscular fingers practically seared through Jamie’s tux to his skin. “Gay people get to use terms like ‘faggot’ and ‘queer’ and nobody can say anything about it.”
Jamie’s whole body sagged and he felt his eyes sting. Had the time finally come? Circling around, he lifted his chin. On the heels of his relief, something big and rich and potent shot through him. He’d never felt the bolt of lightning-like attraction before. Staring at the cool guy before him, who’d just made his own huge revelation, Jamie’s stomach played leapfrog with his emotions. “How’d you know?”
Luke’s face was shining with the same feelings churning inside Jamie. And right out there in the open, his hand moved to Jamie’s biceps and rubbed up and down. “Same way you knew about me.”
Jamie swallowed hard.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” Now Luke’s voice was throaty, turned on, too, Jamie hoped.
His heart galloping, Jamie took the biggest step of his life so far. “Yeah, you’re right.”
Chapter Four
The Monday after the Valentine’s Ball, Maggie was sitting on the bed with a book in her hand and watching the president on television—she’d volunteered for his campaign in the last election—when the house phone rang. Since everyone else was out, she was tempted to let it go, but ultimately decided to pick up the extension on one of the shelves of the headboard. “Hello.”
A hesitation on the other end. At first, she thought it was one of those irksome computer-generated calls, but then a real voice came across the lines. “Maggie Davidson?”
“Yes, this is she.”
“Did you used to be Maggie Lorenzo?”
An ominous feeling went through Maggie, making her tense. “Yes. Who is this?”
“Did you grow up in Cornwall, New York?”
“I’ll answer that after you tell me who you are.” The woman’s voice was soft and hesitant, but her questions disconcerted Maggie.
“My name is Teresa DeAngelo.”
“You called when I was in Cancun.”
“On Christmas Day.”
“Do I know you, Teresa?”
It sounded like the woman took a deep breath. “No, but I know you. Or at least I know of you.”
“How?”
“I’m your sister Caroline’s daughter.”
Maggie dropped the phone. It fell onto the dark green and blue quilt. How many years had she waited for this contact? She took a deep breath to control the swell of emotion inside her.
Finally she picked up the phone. “I’m sorry, this is a shock.” Then a thought hit her, making her mouth go dry. “Oh, no, is Caroline…isn’t she well?”
“Not like you mean. Mom’s alive and physically fine. I know you haven’t seen her in years.”
“Thirty-seven. I haven’t seen her in thirty-seven years.” Since the day Caroline was forced out of the Lorenzo household and left Maggie behind with the fallout.
“I know why she didn’t contact you,” Teresa went on, “but why didn’t you ever find us?” Now Caroline’s daughter sounded bitter. “Mom said you two were close.”
Maggie cleared her throat. “I was eight when she left, so of course I was powerless then. Even in high school and college, there wasn’t any Internet, so I had no way to conduct a search for her.”
“What about when you got