I let the words settle, let the finality sink in, and all I felt was alive, like I was breathing pure oxygen. It was all so clear. I have to end me. It’s the only way to live. “When? I’m having a birthday party at an estate near Carnelian Bay in five days. Is that enough time?”

The line went silent for a moment before she came back to me.

“We can make that work.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Twenty-Nine

March 20X6, Keystone

“Big day tomorrow.” Allard leans back in her chair, drinking her tea. “San Francisco here you come. Are you and Garrett prepared?”

“We’re as ready as we can be.” After spending every waking minute together for the last three months, we can practically finish each other’s sentences. We’ve built Beau and Betsy’s lives for the Networks, photographing fake parties and vacations, trying to one-up each other with weird memories from our “childhood.”

“Do you remember that time Mom and Dad took us fishing and I caught a sixty-pound mahi-mahi that knocked you overboard?” he asks.

“You seem to have a selective memory,” I say. “The way I remember it, it was ten pounds, and you fell overboard trying to reel it in. But speaking of fishing, I definitely remember the time your prom date catfished you—did you really believe that Miss Teen World was going to fly down to the Cayman Islands to go out with some skinny coder? How embarrassing that you had to take your kid sister instead.” I slide the prom picture I’ve been working on toward him. I’ve placed his head onto a wiry, tuxedoed body standing next to a version of me that Ella Karman would have been jealous of. “For your approval. I’ll add it to your Network this afternoon.”

He examines the picture and smiles. “I’ve filled out nicely since then, don’t you think?”

No comment.

Despite the increased time together, we’ve never dipped back into the conversation we had at his parents’ house. I guess he was warning me he was going to keep me at arm’s length, which is best for both of us. There’s too much that could go wrong with the heist to risk any shenanigans. At least that’s what I tell myself.

“We definitely fight like brother and sister,” I say to Allard, sipping my tea.

She smiles. “And how are you feeling?”

My heart thumps. “Honestly? It’s like Christmas Eve. I can’t sleep… I keep waiting to hear footsteps on the rooftop.”

“Soon you’ll be the footsteps on the rooftop.”

I let out a whoosh of air. “I know. Is it weird that I can’t wait?”

“No. It just means you’ve found your calling.”