We both freeze.
“That’s them,” I whisper.
He mutters something that might be a prayer or a curse, then steps back like someone yanked an invisible tether.
I open the door, and Molly practically folds into me. Her eyes are bright but tired, cheeks pink from the cold.
“Oh thank goodness,” she says. “The roads were awful. Bradley drove like we were transporting priceless art.”
“Your safety is priceless,” Bradley says behind her, unbothered by the sentimentality of it.
Then his stare lands on Cyrus.
And then on me.
Back to Cyrus.
A slow, knowing smirk spreads across his face.
Fantastic.
“Morning,” Bradley says, too casual. “Everything okay here?”
“Yes,” I say too quickly. “Perfectly fine. Normal. Very normal.”
Cyrus is no help at all. He just sips his coffee and nods likesure, yes, extremely normal behavior happening here.
Molly looks between us, and I swear she inhales like she’s picking up pheromones in the wild.
“Did something happen?” she asks.
“No,” I lie.
“No,” Cyrus echoes.
“So nothing at all?” she presses.
“Exactly nothing,” I say.
Cyrus lifts an eyebrow. “Nothing worth mentioning.”
Bradley snorts. “Wow, you two are terrible at this.”
Molly blinks at us again, and then something sparks in her eyes — recognition, not suspicion. Followed by… joy?
“Oh,” she whispers. “Ohhh."
I shake my head fast. “No.”
Cyrus shakes his head, too. “No.”
“We’re just—” I start.
“Decorating,” he finishes.
“Decorating,” I repeat, as if that explains the way my heartbeat is still trying to launch out of my chest.
Behind Molly and Bradley, more family voices and footsteps come up the walkway.
