“We’re really not going to have sex, are we?” Joe’s face falls. His hand is pressed on the small of my back. His erection is digging into my stomach. I’m turned on. I want to have sex. But I feel like we’ve both made huge progress, and I just want to know we’re not acting on instinct here because of what we just found out about Dom.

“Not even a little.”

“Ever.” He buries his head in my shoulder, laughing. “You’re killing me.”

“Okay, let’s make a deal that a Graves family member can never say that to me, not even jokingly.” I rub his back.

It makes him laugh harder. “We’re dark.”

“That’s why we’re drawn to each other.”

“But the wine sucks.” He pulls away, making a disgusted face.

“The wine blows!” I laugh. “I bet Damon Albarn drinks fine wine. We’re Oasis. Cheap lager and crisps all the way.”

“Vinegar crisps.”

“I can do you one grosser.” I gag. “Prawn cocktail crisps.”

He is staring at me now, the way he used to, in Spain. Openly and without embarrassment. “This week was the first one in years where I’ve been genuinely happy.”

I smile. “Me too.”

“Do you feel guilty?” he asks.

“A little,” I admit. “You?”

“Nope.”

I don’t tell him what I’m thinking. That we both just found out Dom tried to ruin our lives . . . but that we still forgive him.

Because the wound is closed, and it’s time to move on.

TWENTY-SEVEN

TWENTY-SEVEN

I tell Dad and Donna that I have things to sort out in Salem.

It’s not a lie per se. I do have things to do in Salem.

I need to notify my landlord that Nora and I are breaking the lease. To officially move out of the pigsty also known as my apartment and remove the remainder of the furniture I left there, and I also need to give the Graveses the engagement ring back.

I don’t mention that I’m going to spend time with Joe. I don’t have to. They know he’s been in San Francisco this whole last week and can connect the dots themselves.

“Just don’t let the time there cloud your judgment.” Dad is standing at the door, holding his suitcase handle, looking worried. This is his way of saying, Please don’t turn your back on us again for dick. I hear him loud and clear.

“What he means to say is, don’t feel pressured to make a decision one way or the other.” Donna plays the good cop, giving Dad a playful shove. “We’re happy you’re choosing to go back to school, no matter where you’ll be.”

Renn bumps his shoulder against mine, ambling toward the door. “’Kay. ’Nuff talking. Dad, Donna, go away. I’ll drive Ever to SFO. Have fun. Buy us gifts. Expensive ones. Goodbye.”