I want to hate him for mastering the art of contradiction and showing off.
Everything would be easier if he was a hundred percent asshole.
But this note is a whole lot of nice and I—
I don’t know how to deal with that.
So I stare at it, my heart lodged in my throat, ticking oddly.
I knew he never bought the mouse thing for a second, but I guess he isn’t too mad. He just wants my confession.
The sandwich feels like a peace offering of sorts.
One I’m tempted to accept in my sappy, hangry mood.
It’s been ages since anyone really looked out for me.
I glance out the window to the other side of the house out back, where there’s a patio and firepit, right next to the old hot tub.
The flickering light says they’ve got the fire going. The night darkens with every minute, more stars poking through the indigo-blue sky.
It’s the kind of evening Hattie and I used to love outside, buried under blankets as we talked about school and books and crushes.
Another pang of nostalgia.
I have the weirdest urge to tear up.
But that’s way too much emotion for a sandwich, and I need to eat.
So instead of blubbering, I pick it up and wrap my coat more firmly around me as I head outside.
Little Sophie sees me first. Her face lights up like Christmas morning.
The firepit blazes, and the corrupted Saint himself relaxes against the cushions of his chair nearby, his arms outstretched with a beer loosely clasped in his fingers.
The star of the show, though, is a large, fancy-looking telescope perched in the middle of the deck on a tripod.
It gleams in the firelight, and there’s a stool positioned next to it.
“Margot!” Sophie chirps, coming toward me in those oversized shoes and waving her hand. “Wanna have a look through my telescope? The skies are so amazing out here. Nothing like back home.”
There’s no way I can say no to this adorable request.
Actually… I don’t think I’ve ever looked through a telescope before. Certainly not something this big and fancy.
“She’s obsessed with the skies because nothing’s cool enough for her on the ground,” Dan tells me with the familiar superiority of a cheesy older brother, even though they’re twins. He still pretends like he’s older and wiser, and that makes me grin.
“Am not!” Sophie sticks out her tongue at him.
“Are.”
“Guys, enough,” Kane barks. “No bickering on the patio or we’re packing it in.”
“We weren’t fighting, Dad. We weredebating,” Dan says.
“A debate has nuanced arguments. You just brought an argument, boy.”
Dan rolls his eyes as he sinks back in his chair, putting earbuds in as he prepares to play his little portable drum pad. Quietly this time, thank God.
