“Hey,” he says once he’s on my side of the street. He gives me a chaste peck on the lips. “You good?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”
“You’re flushed,” he says, balancing his baked good under one arm, then reaching out to smooth the line between my brows. “Looks like something’s pissing you off.”
I smile for him, and the fact that he sees me. “I’m good. What’re you doing here?”
“Gran wants to renovate her backyard. She’s thinking of putting in a pergola or swing. She wanted me to give my educated opinion.” He shrugs, shifting the box back to both hands and showing me the preview window on top. “I was here so I thought you might need more cake. You finished yours two days ago, right?”
I inspect his offering. It’s an eight-inch round in purple ombre with swirls around the border.
“Ooh, she’s pretty! What is it?”
“It’s a vanilla sponge with something called Chantilly cream and berries between the layers. Apparently someone ordered it, then cancelled last minute, which is why it’s so purple. They were glad I took it off their hands.”
“Rest assured, I will put it to good use. You coming home?”
It’s another moment where I catch him off guard, until the joy transforms his features. We take my car, drive in pleasant silence, and wind up in my driveway just as Willow steps out.
“Your dad told me to call if I ever seehimhere,” Willow spits.
Wonderful. Starting strong.
“So my dad is trying to police my decisions at my own house through the squatter who doesn’t pay rent. Got it.”
Willow’s eyes flash. She clutches the strap of her expensive purse, then pulls out her phone as if it’s a threat.
“I’ll call him.”
“Good. Do it. I don’t care.”
I’ve never felt so immature in my entire life. Willow always brings out the best in me. I grit my teeth and stare at her, willing her to make the call. Zander slides out of the passenger seat and stands. He leans against the frame of the car, watching the two of us stand off.
“Maybe we should take a breath,” Zander says, opening his arms to show just how non-threatening he is. “It’s not a huge deal. I can leave if you’re uncomfortable.”
Willow blinks, as if she wasn’t expecting that answer, then laughs. “You’re right, you make me uncomfortable. People like you shouldn’t be free to be wherever they want.”
“I deserve that,” Zander says. He visibly deflates. The dimples in his cheeks morph into deep-set frown lines. All I want to do is hug him. “I can’t take back what I did, Willow, but I promise you I am not that man anymore.”
“People don’t change.” She scoffs, then turns her attention back to me. “He’s gaslighting you.”
“Buzzword,” I mutter under my breath, then louder, “What makes you so certain of that? Why are you so convinced that he’s bad?”
“Becausepeople don’t change. You’re delusional if you think he’s anything other than an abuser.”
“You don’t know him. You don’t know what he’s been through.”
“Neither do you! You only know what he’s told you.”
“I know what he’s told me, yes. But I’ve also read all the records and news stories, all the data I could get my hands on…I know his grandma, personally, and she vouches for him. This little old lady hanging out with someone who you’ve deemed dangerous because you can’t see past your own prejudices.” Willow remains unmoved, arms crossed over her chest. I unfurl my fingers, realizing I’m wound so tight my car keys have indented my palm. I sigh, with tears forming, and lock eyes with my cousin. “You don’t have to believe me. I don’t care at this point. I just think it’s sad none of you will give him a chance when this is the happiest I’ve ever been. So you can call my dad. Do whatever you want.”
I slink back into my car. I wipe at my eyes as I turn the key in the ignition. Zander returns to the passenger seat, his face open and questioning. I reach out and brush a lock of hair out of his eyes.
“Addie, I don’t want to be the cause of—”
“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
