Naomi stopped the Suburban to press the garage door button on the rearview mirror, then put it into drive once again. We were slowly rolling towards the long drive when Grandmother came out of the house, dressed in a blue suit and waving her arm above her head.

"Don't stop," I said urgently. "Don't make eye contact."

"Rob," she said, pressing her foot on the brake. "I don't just work for you. I work for your whole family."

"I wasn't asking as your employer. I was asking for a little mercy, as your friend," I said.

Naomi's lips parted, her eyebrows arching, as if she were about to have some snappy retort.

Grandmother was already swinging open the back door, climbing up with a sigh, and settling into the seat behind me. "I hope you don't mind me tagging along. I'm so excited to see another of my grandsons!"

"Of course we don't mind." I studiously did not look at Naomi, although my sense of disappointment was intense. Now I would lose the chance to talk to Naomi openly.

I ached over the way her face had looked when she called me a jackass. No matter how cutting she was, she had looked so hurt. There were good reasons for me to tell her not to fall in love. I could make her see that if she would listen.

But now I wouldn't be able to talk to her. The tension between us felt awful.

Naomi didn't say anything. But then she wouldn't, not with his grandmother there.

Grandmother leaned out, trying to catch the door handle, and I slipped out of the car to slam the door closed for her. As I settled back in the leather passenger seat, she said, "Thank you, dear."

I didn't respond.

"So he couldn't fly into T.F. Green," she said, shaking her head. "Were there no first class flights to Green?"

"I don't think he cares about first class flights. Pretty sure he doesn't fly first class in the Marine Corps."

"He flies his own plane."

"Doesn't mean anyone serves him champagne and a hot meal." I glanced over at Naomi. "Really, first class isn't what it used to be. Air travel's miserable for everyone."

Naomi nodded slowly. "Are you sure it isn't just miserable for you? All that leg and all that shoulder and nowhere to put it?"

"Ha. You must be a lot more comfortable on a plane, that's for sure." Although I didn't want to betray Naomi's secret that we were sleeping together, since it seemed important to her to be discreet, the very fact that she'd mentioned my shoulders had prompted a tell-tale blush to work its way up her cheeks.

"Mm."

The look on her face was neutral, like she was avoiding something. Maybe it was her trying not to ruminate over my body in front of my grandmother, but anyway, I asked, "Where's the last flight you took?"

"I don't go on vacations," she said.

Grandmother said, "Neither does Rob. Unless he breaks something."

I leaned back, crossing my arms over my chest. "This isn't a vacation. My paperwork says convalescent leave."

"You could have stayed at your base," Grandmother said. "You could have stayed at your job, even."

"How would you know that?" I asked in irritation.

She smiled. "You wanted to come home."

"Well, you know how I've missed you.”

"Not me," she said, "Although you should. Your father, your brothers. I'll be dead soon. I want to see you all close and well."

"You're looking quite sprightly, Grandma. I don't know what you're going on about."

"I'm in my eighties, sweetheart. Naomi, how old are your grandparents?"

Naomi was taking the long, curving on-ramp for the highway, her petite body tilting slightly with the wheel. "I don't know how old they would be off the top of my head. They've passed away."

"See?"

"Did you really just use the untimely passing of Noami's grandparents to prove a point to me?" I asked. "I'm sorry, Naomi."

Grandmother said, "It's not untimely. I'm comfortable with the thought of my own mortality, but I'm not nearly as comfortable with the thought of how you boys are all spread to the seven winds, barely speaking to each other."

"We talk on the phone."

"You talk to your father on the phone? How often? Your brothers?"

Naomi watched the road wide-eyed, trying not to listen to our conversation. I couldn't help but flash back to Mitch’s lectures on how much the help overhears.

"Are you really quizzing me on how often I talk to Liam and Nicky and Josh? Do you want a graph?"

"A bar chart would probably be most suitable."

I tilted my eyes heavenward, dramatically appealing for help, but none was forthcoming from the gray fabric ceiling of the Suburban. "Anyway, you don't really just want us to talk to each other more. I don't know why you're pretending that's what's so important to you."

Naomi's eyes flickered my way.

"That is important to me," she protested. "And if a house be divided against each other, it cannot stand."

"You're quoting Lincoln just because we all have our own lives?"

"I'm quoting the bible, you handsome barbarian," she said, leaning forward to ruffle my short hair like I was a boy again. Her touch felt strange on my scalp, sending a note of tension rippling down my spine, but I didn't move. "Good lord. I told your father he should send you boys to private school."

I didn't answer. I was glad that I had gone to public school. Glad I had gone to school with Naomi.

Even if Naomi was staring out at the road with unnecessary intensity, looking more than a little pissed off.

By the time we arrived at Logan Airport, I was grateful to get out of the car, which had rapidly chilled into icy silence when I wasn't eager to converse with my outspoken grandmother. And Naomi was still cool, speaking as little to me as possible. She shot daggers at me with those rich brown eyes whenever my grandmother turned her back.

Which wasn't what I wanted to do with Naomi when her back was turned. I was eager to push her up against the wall, kiss her again, and fuck her wildly until she was willing to settle for a fling. An amazing, satisfying fling that we'd both remember for the rest of their lives.

But instead, I walked side-by-side with my grandmother as Naomi trailed behind into the terminal. Liam's flight was unexpectedly delayed by an hour, so we had some time to kill.

"You can't be that old," I told her lightly. "Look at the heels you're still wearing."

"Most women my age are in orthopedic shoes," she said. "I'm quite grateful my ankles and Achilles have held out so beautifully."

"Grateful to who? Do you have more KJV for that?"

"You remember my translation of choice! How sweet."

"Why is it your favorite?"

"The beauty of the language, my dear." She looked her arm through my elbow, and no matter how mad she made me, I tugged her into my side. My tiny, brilliant, manipulative, firecracker of a grandmother. There was no one else quite like her.

"After all," she went on, "Religion should be beautiful."

Naomi caught back up to us, taking a few quick strides ahead before she turned back. Her eyes studiously avoided me. "I'm going to stop in at the bookstore."

"Naomi, come have a drink with us.” I was being unrepentantly selfish. Naomi probably wanted a break from Delaneys. I wanted a break from the Delaneys.

"Thank you for the invitation," she said politely, and then walked into the bookstore.

Grandmother was shaking her head as we took their seats at the airport bar. I decided not to ask, but she was dogged as usual.

"She seems rather flustered," Grandmother observed.

"Mm? I think she just loves books." I pretended not to know what she meant. But I couldn't help flashing back to Naomi's slow, genuine smile as she thanked me for the Kindle. It made me want to buy her a library.

The waiter came over then, and I ordered a whiskey on the rocks even though it was before five p.m.

Because being around other Delaneys drove me to drink.

When it was nearly time for Liam's plane to land, I paid the check and left Grandmother at the ladies' room door for whatever it was she did that kept her looking so fresh all the time -- quite possibly involving the blood of virgins, nothing would surprise me -- and then re-traced my steps to the bookstore. I could have texted Naomi to join us, but I had expected her to meet us at the bar once she had browsed the books. I was curious what had distracted her.

I found her sitting cross-legged on the carpet in the empty last aisle, a hardcover open in her lap. Her dark hair almost brushed the pages. I felt a pang of regret about the tension between us.

I squatted in front of her, bracing myself with my forearms on my thighs, and she looked up at me with surprise.

"Oh," she said, scrambling to grab her purse next to her. "Are you ready to go? I'm sorry. Lost track of time."

"It's okay," I said. "It's just Liam."

She smiled slightly at that, closing the cover of the book and setting it neatly back on the shelf.

"You don't want it?" I stood and offered a hand. She was already scrambling to her feet, though.

She shook her head. "That's all right."

"I'll buy it for you," I offered, taking it off the shelf.

"That's really all right."

"Can we talk?" I asked.

She glanced around the aisle. "Now? About what?"

About how desperately unkissed she looked right then, and how badly I needed to slip my hands around her waist and kiss her again.

"Not now," I said. "Just... tonight. I think what I said came across wrong."

She smiled mirthlessly. "You think?"

"I need to talk to you without an audience. I hadn't expected the chaperone..."

"Too true," she said lightly.

"What do you mean?"

"About your grandmother chaperoning us because she wants to make sure I'm not putting a move on you, Robert Delaney?"

"She's just nosy. Recreationally nosy."

She wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her arms, which were stubbled with goosebumps. "Let's go get Liam."

"Are you cold?" I took one last glance at the book cover, committing it to memory, and headed behind her down the aisle. "Do you want my sweatshirt?"

"What would your grandmother think?"

"I'm not the one who cares."

She threw me a look over her shoulder, but didn't say anything.

Liam was one of the last people off the plane -- so much for Grandmother's first class theory -- striding out the no-return doors with his garment bag and backpack thrown over one shoulder and an enormous carry-on bag gripped in one hand, its wheels skimming over the linoleum without touching. Next to him walked a petite woman on crutches.

"Oh, there's my son," she said, pointing. "Thank you so much, Liam."

"No problem, ma'am," Liam said, setting the bag down beside her. She offered him a hug, and he hugged her back, with a self-deprecating smile.

As Liam loped over to us with that same smile and bright blue eyes now fixed on them, his arms opening to hug us all hello, I took inventory of my baby brother. It had been a year since I'd last seen him. Liam was clean-shaven, tall and slender, although his shoulders were still broad. His muscle was lean, a runner's build. He was the fairest of the Delaneys, his hair a soft brown, cut Marine-reg-short.

"How's it going?" Liam asked as we hugged.

"Good." I clapped him on the shoulder before we released each other, a showy display of affection for Delaneys. "You?"

"I broke up with my girlfriend this morning," he said, grinning.

"Oh." I hadn't known anything about a girlfriend. "Sorry."

Liam shrugged. "No real loss."

Liam seemed as easy-going and carefree as ever, as he hugged Grandmother and -- Naomi's face was surprised -- Naomi as well.

"I remember you!" Liam told her cheerfully. "And your sister, Alice. She used to come watch TV in my room when she was sick."

Naomi rolled her eyes at that, and I wondered if Alice had a crush on Liam. Liam seemed a little too animated, energetic. Almost frenetic. I couldn't ask my brother how he was doing in front of Grandmother. I probably couldn't ask him at all. That wasn't the kind of thing we talked about.

Even though Liam was usually the most brutally honest and open of the four of us. He'd blurted his break-up out to me; it had to be bothering him.

Not that I would be able to offer much help. Delaneys were great at attracting women, but after that it was all downhill.