“But, like, are you?” he persisted. “You know, mad?”

I drew a breath to answer, though I wasn’t entirely certain what I was about to say, when Mia came walking toward us at a rapid clip, dark eyes wide.

“There you are,” she said, which was likely directed at Brody but her focus was on me.

I smiled. “Perfect timing.”

“Why?” She almost didn’t stop as she barreled into Brody, wrapping both of her arms around him while facing me.

“We were just talking about you,” I continued.

Her eyes narrowed. “What were you saying about me?”

“We were discussing your love of scrapbooking. I was about to tell Brody here that you made a scrapbook for me right before I left for Barrington. It was amazing. And how long after I left before you two started hooking up?”

Brody stood up straighter. “It wasn’t like that.”

“So you’re not hooking up?”

“No, I mean, yeah, we are—”

Mia jerked away from him in indignation. “Baby!”

He was confused. “What? We are.”

Her dark eyes turned thunderous. “Oh, okay. I’m just a hookup? That’s all I am to you?”

Uh-oh.

Brody realized his error as swiftly as only someone dating a volatile person can. “No!”

“Because that’s just bullshit!” she continued, and I knew from my own experience that we were about to be subjected to the Full Mia Treatment.

Brody held up both hands, imploring her to believe him. “No, no, you’re not. You’re not. Mia, baby, no. You’re my girl.”

I felt a pang of jealousy shoot through me at that, at “my girl,” irrational and stupid, but also very real even if I knew I had no right to it.

But then I caught a motion out of the corner of my eye.

And I turned to see Arthur strolling up to us. Or, more specifically, me.

I was surprised but also relieved.

Arthur held my eyes and smiled.

“The cider here is delicious. Your father purchased a cup for me,” he said smoothly, toggling the blue to-go cup he held before he turned to face Brody and Mia. “Hallo.”

Brody stiffened and cocked his head, equal parts uncertain and wary. “Who are you?” he demanded of Arthur, who in return half bowed, unfazed.

“Arthur Chakrabarti Watercress. And you are . . . ?”

“Brody.”

Arthur’s face lit up as if in recognition. “Tuck. Yes, I’ve heard of you.” He glanced at me. “Three percent Neanderthal, wasn’t it?” Before I could reply, Arthur looked back at Mia. “Then you must be Mia.”

For her part, Mia was clearly confused, which was a thousand percent better than her being on the verge of losing her shit.

“That’s right,” she said.

Brody zeroed in on me. “You told him about the DNA test?” he demanded, newly pissed.

“Yeah, so?”

“That’s not this guy’s business.” He pointed at Arthur.