“So if you had a shot with a guy like him, would you take it?” Neve asked, her eyes still dancing.

Would she?

Olivia had framed in her mind the idea that there was a certain kind of man for her. That man was nothing like Spencer Rome. And if she were truly honest, the guy she envisioned sitting next to her in the rocking chair as she faded to gray was nothing like Conrad Santos, a man she’d yearned for—for far too long. Perhaps she’d idealized Conrad because she knew she no longer had a chance with him. They had closed the book after the first chapter of their awkward start, one that for her had been the culmination of all her hopes as a girl. Truth was, though she’d believed Conrad to be her ideal, she had no expectation of having him. So he’d been safe to desire. But Spencer Rome wasn’t even in her neighborhood of expectation. He wasn’t in her universe. So why even consider such a thing? “I don’t think so. How could I ever fit with someone like him? Besides, why would he even want someone like me?”

Neve made a face. “What do you mean? You’re pretty.”

“No, I’m not. I have even features, nice skin and hair, and I guess I’m fit, but pretty? I’ve never been pretty.”

Chase strolled in. “You’re pretty. Why do you think you’re not?”

“Because I’m not. I see my reflection in the mirror. I don’t deceive myself. Acknowledging my positives is one thing, but lying to myself is another.” Olivia picked up her mug and hid behind it.

“I asked her if she had a shot with someone like Spencer, would she take it? She thinks she’s not pretty enough,” Neve said, squinching her face as she studied Chase. “Do you have marshmallow in your hair?”

Chase actually blushed, lifting a hank of hair coated with gooey white. “Uh, yeah, I accidently got too close to one of the roasted marshmallows Zeke was trying to put on my graham cracker.”

Neve gave her a sly look. “Is that what they call it these days?”

Chase gave Olivia’s sister the flat stare she used when she was put out. “Zeke and I are friends, Neve.”

“Mm-hmm,” Neve said, taking a sip of her tea, her brown eyes dancing above the lip of the cup.

“We are,” Chase insisted, turning toward the counter and snagging her own cup. She sifted through the box of teas Olivia had bought, withdrawing an herbal one. Yesterday, Chase had revealed she’d been sleeping better than she had in years. Working hard and examining emotions seemed to do that to a person. Of course, Olivia hadn’t been sleeping as well. Her body was tired but her mind was alive, searching every night, discomfited by the ghosts of her past clinking their chains.