“Missed opportunity,” I say flatly. “You could’ve made some scary threats and gotten yourself all tangled up with a hottie who packs heat at thirty thousand feet. Try harder next time.”
She gives the tiniest hint of a smile.
Victory. A shot of serotonin hits my system.
“Speaking of threats, did you know PopPop once offered to sic his lawyer on any guys who hit me up?” She pulls out her phone and glances at the screen before laying it on the table. “I mean, it might’ve worked. Legal stuff is a big turn-off.”
“I can see that.” I smile. “Did he ever offer to bail you out of jail?”
“Only twice.” She snickers and I laugh. “Do you remember when he took us out onDelphito watch the seals?”
Oh, yes.
I have very vivid memories of our excursions on his luxury yacht. The large sailboat had everything you could imagine—a fully outfitted kitchen, several widescreen TVs, plush leather seats built like clouds. Forget the hot tub when it had its own sauna.
Most of the time, we hung out on the deck, throwing our hands out to catch the wind while Leo told stories about his worldly travels or pointed out wildlife.
When it got dark, sometimes we’d sit there and look at the lighthouses glowing in the distance. It made the world feel endless when the engine cut and there was nothing but stars and sea and silence all around us.
My chest aches at the memory.
I wonder who gets the old boat?
“So many seals that time. I’ve never seen so many since, even up in Bar Harbor,” I say, trying to focus on the happy memories.
“They were so close. They didn’t care that we were right there. That little pup swam right up to the boat.” Margot gives another tired smile, though this one doesn’t reach her eyes.“PopPop was pumped. Honestly, it might’ve been the last time I saw him laugh like that.”
“In another life, he could’ve been one of those crazy globe-trekker wildlife photographers.”
Margot shakes her head. “Nah, he was too impatient for that. He could’ve never stayed still long enough.”
I laugh because it’s true.
Leonidas Blackthorn lived as long as he did because he was always moving. Bustling around making food, building elaborate sandcastles with us on the beach, taking us sailing, or just handling one of the thousand things that kept his moneymaking empire intact.
“Remember when Gramps loaned me Ares the first weekend at college?” Margot asks.
“Ares!” I smile affectionately.
Leonidas’ dog was a chill companion, a grumpy old basset hound who loves only one thing more than pets—sleeping.
At least, hewasLeonidas’ dog. I don’t know who’ll own him now. Margot, hopefully.
“He wouldn’t budge no matter what we did, and he was a lot younger then,” she says, taking another sip of her drink and sighing when the caffeine hits her veins.
“Cubed carrots, chicken, steak. Those were good bribes.” I count the food on my fingers with a smile.
“That dog lives to nap.”
“Relatable.” I snort. “Remember that time I crawled around the garden for like half an hour, hoping he’d follow me?”
“You looked like Cousin Itt.” Margot’s face screws up.
“Or something out of a Japanese horror movie, I guess. All part of the charm.”
“Ares didn’t think so.”
“Excuse me,” I huff. “He finally got up and shuffled after me so he could lick my face.”
