“Of course she does.”
“Printed.”
My hand went still on the coffee cup.
“With tabs,” Daisy added.
Betrayal had many forms.
Daisy led me down the hall to the conference room, where the agenda waited open at the head of the table.
Then Summer saw me.
The agenda stayed open. Her face changed anyway.
She stood first.
Annie followed, then Brynn, who shoved her chair back hard enough to make Daisy flinch in the doorway.
“Oh, thank God,” Brynn said. “You look terrible.”
“Wonderful to be home.”
Summer reached me before I could prepare a defense and wrapped both arms around me. Not dramatic. Not careful. Firm enough to make my ribs remember I had them.
My ribs tightened, inconveniently aware that this was not on the agenda.
I patted her back once. “This is an inefficient use of meeting time.”
“Shut up,” Summer said against my shoulder.
Annie hugged me next, smaller and tighter, her cheek cool against mine. “Your cortisol is probably appalling.”
“I missed your bedside manner.”
“I don’t have one.”
“Correct.”
Brynn grabbed me last and squeezed hard enough to qualify as assault in several jurisdictions.
“If you ever get targeted by a manifest breach again,” she said, “I’m flying there and becoming everyone’s problem.”
“You are already everyone’s problem.”
“Exactly. I have experience.”
Across the room, Daisy had gone very still with my work tote in one hand and her tablet in the other, trying to look like shewas not witnessing a private family moment while absolutely witnessing it.
Summer released me and touched my arm once before stepping back. “We’re glad you’re home.”
The words landed cleanly.
No dramatics. No speech. No one saying the thing under the thing.
Thank God.
Rayann appeared on the wall screen from Rome, glossy hair, sharp eyeliner, and the face of a woman who had already won an argument with an Italian villa owner before lunch.
