“Which is ironic, since I might be living under an actual bridge.”

“I won’t let that happen.” He reaches over and picks up my hand, lacing our fingers together.

My stomach flutters and I swallow past a suddenly dry mouth, my gaze focused on our hands. “What else would you suggest?”

“We could tell Jude we’ve decided to live here together, just share.”

I look up. “You really think it’s smart to live together so soon into our . . . whatever this is? It seems like a terrible decision.”

“You’re likely right.” His hand squeezes mine. “Listen, don’t worry about it. We’ll figure it out. Annabel said she would look into something at the paper, and hey, maybe Granny will let me stay with her.”

I laugh. “She probably would. But she really liked Beast. Maybe we can get him over there and I’ll take his room.”

“I dunno, he’s pretty protective of Jude, and vice versa. I don’t think they would leave each other.”

“That’s true.” Our eyes meet and his gaze slips to my mouth.

I swallow and lick my lips and his hand tenses in mine.

“Well, don’t think I’m letting you off easy for these events coming up,” I say.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, just before his mouth captures mine.

18

You don’t love because: you love despite; not for the virtues, but despite the faults.

—William Faulkner

Fitz

Abby keeps calling, then when I don’t answer, she moves to texting.

I read the first few. She’s apologetic at first, then increasingly irate until I shut my phone off so I can focus on the here and now. I’m a little worried and a lot frustrated. Abby seemed sincere about wanting to be friends and giving me time, but she didn’t mean it. I will not be manipulated. Not anymore.

Jude cooks dinner, then Reese and I do our homework at the dining table, exchanging secret smiles and amused glances every time Beast lumbers in to bring us a drink or a new pencil when the lead on mine snaps.

When it’s time for bed, I wait until we’ve both brushed our teeth and Reese is setting up her blankets on the floor.

“Reese, I can’t let you sleep on the floor.”

She frowns at me. “Why not?”

“Sleep up here.” I pat the mattress beside me. “With me.”

She blinks rapidly. Her mouth opens. Then shuts. Then opens again.

“I mean just sleep. I would never pressure you into anything you didn’t want to do. You trust me, right?”

“I do, it’s just—” She bites her lip, not meeting my eyes. “I have flutters.”

“Flutters?”

“Nerves. Bad ones. It’s not like butterflies in the stomach. It’s like a wandering albatross.”

“An albatross, huh?” I fight to contain my laughter. “That bad?”

“They have the longest recorded wingspan.”

“Really?” The laughter is under control but I can’t stop the grinning.

“Twelve feet.”

“That is bigger than butterflies. Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you nervous?” I keep my expression neutral.