“Are you this enthusiastic about all of your friends?”
“Yes.”
“Good to know.” I wince to myself. Is this awkward or is it just me? “Look, I really am sorry about…” I gesture vaguely to his face.
“It’s fine.”
“The mountains are a lot different from where I grew up. I’m…more cautious here…because it’s so different.”
He slides one of those unreadable looks at me while he shovels a spoonful of stew into his mouth. “Yeah. Mountains are a lot different from…other places.”
Other places?
Why is he saying that like he knows whatother placesare?
“Very,” I agree.
“Worlds apart. Depending on whereotheris.”
The tiniest amount of sweat starts gathering at my hairline. Is he—is he trying to talk in code, or am I being paranoid tonight?
I swallow another bite of soup. “Have you spent much time out here with Decker?”
“Some.”
Such a solid, definitive answer.
Which I don’t observe out loud, even if I want to.
Gotta play the Margie part. Especially since I start my housekeeping job at the retreat center tomorrow.
Rhys drops his spoon on the table. “Look, I know who you are.”
Every muscle in my body seizes. I don’t know how I manage to not choke on my food, but I manage to not choke on my food.
Which is good.
Margie would, by default, know exactly what he meant.
Unfortunately, I’m notonlyMargie. “You do?”
The man stares at me like he can read the code of all of my past lives that have imprinted somewhere in my soul. Like he knows every identity I’ve had in every incarnation of my life back to the beginning of time.
And like he knows that Margie Johnson is a lie, and Margot Merriweather-Brown is not to be trusted.
And then he picks up his spoon again and looks down at his stew. “Decker told me about the DNA thing.”
Thank.
Fucking.
Fuck.
I shovel a spoonful of stew into my mouth, then swallow without hardly tasting it, which is a shame considering how good it is.
“He did?” I ask after I swallow.
“You didn’t tell any of your friends you have unexpected half brothers?”
