"Ladies," Marcus announces, dropping a bag full of what appears to be skincare products on the coffee table, "it's time for Marcus and his angel's annual sleepover."
"Is that a thing?"I ask.
"As of right now, apparently," Mia replies, settling into the armchair with the resigned air of someone who's learned not to fight Marcus when he gets an idea.
"Of course it’s a thing.I brought face masks," Marcus continues, pulling out an assortment of colorful packets."And I'm talking about the overpriced good ones.None of that drugstore garbage."
"I'll get the wine!"Camilla disappears into the kitchen, and I can hear her rummaging through cabinets.
"Right then," Marcus says, settling cross-legged on the floor and beginning to sort through face masks."Who wants to look absolutely glowing while we psychoanalyze everyone we've ever met?"
"That's not psychoanalysis," Mia points out."That's amateur therapy."
"Even better.Nora, you're our resident literature expert.Surely you can provide some narrative framework for our character studies."
I laugh, accepting the face mask he hands me.
"I think tonight I just want to be a regular teenager doing regular teenager things."
"Boring teenager things," Camilla adds, returning with a bottle of wine and four glasses.
"The most boring," I agree.
Marcus pops the wine with unnecessary ceremony, and as we settle in for what promises to be hours of face masks and ridiculous conversation, I let myself exist in this moment—safe, surrounded by people who love me, temporarily free from the weight of secrets and corruption and all the ways the adult world tries to break you before you're ready.
Tomorrow I'll have to figure out how to tell Nate the truth about Scott.
But for now, tomorrow can wait.
CHAPTER22
SOMETHING OLD, SOMETHING NEW
NATE
Today should be pure joy.
Shouldbe.
But I can't shake what I saw when I drove through South Eden the other day with Nora, then again with Jay.The images keep flashing through my head—boarded-up houses, families packing their stuff into beat-up cars, that same hollow look in their eyes that I used to see in the mirror.
But that can wait another day because today's about Nick and Kat.
The thing is, if it were up to them, they would've just signed papers and called it done.But Mom went above and beyond for this.
The backyard transformed into something out of a magazine—white marquee stretching across the lawn, fairy lights twisted through every tree branch, flowers everywhere that probably cost more than my car.Tables draped in cream linen, crystal glasses catching the morning light.
It's lavish as hell, and I know exactly why she did it.
This is her fresh start.
Her chance to create something beautiful that has nothing to do with Scott, nothing to do with the shit he put us through.Every detail screams Lydia Sullivan—elegant, determined, rebuilding from the ashes of what that bastard burned down.
The second I think about Scott, rage boils over, hot and familiar.My hands clench into fists before I can stop them.
The thoughts pause when Nick walks into my room.
"You freaking out yet?"I ask, trying to shake off the darkness that follows any thought of Scott.
