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I almost believe it.
Then we both turn toward the dining room.
Eleanor is waiting when we walk back in. She raises an eyebrow with the particular eloquence of a younger sibling who has catalogued every mistake I have ever made and is currently adding to the archive.
"Everything okay?"
I sit down and pick up my fork like a man returning to a very dangerous experiment.
"Fine," I say.
Under the table, my hand finds Tessa's again.
This time on purpose.
