I like his house.
I like being with him in that house.
After the break-in at Gramps’ old mansion, it felt easier to stay where it was safe. But I forgot how much I liked feeling the sun on my face, especially with the spring glow intensifying by the day.
The café where I meet Margot is tucked at the corner of a small square. I grab myself a coffee—the biggest, sugary latte on the menus—and poach one of the small outdoor tables, watching kids playing in the park across the street.
I exhale slowly, just sunbathing and sipping my coffee.
All should be right with the world.
Except it isn’t.
Holden made his feelings about the future crystal clear. We’ve reached the end of the line and it’s just this whole forbidden treasure thing binding us together.
Of course, I knew that going in. We both did.
So why does it hit me so hard?
Margot shows up a few minutes later in a long white skirt and black sunglasses, holding a small bag in her hands.
“Merry Christmas. Fresh from the pop-up churro stand on the corner.” She smiles and offers me a long, doughy delight from the bag.
I take it gratefully and bite in. It’s that kind of day, where a pick-me-up involves serious caffeine and sugar.
And my smile widens as I look at her. She definitely got the best Blackthorn genes for good looks. Or maybe she’s just more radiant than ever as a happily married woman now.
She pushes her shades up into her bright-blonde hair, an effortless beauty I used to wish for.
But our vibes are very different.
She’s sleek and put together, cool and classy. I try to balance the alt art girl look with conformist dresses and blouses when I need to shine with rich art people.
But I love that being in a relationship hasnotchanged her style one bit. For her, shacking up with a perma-grumpy single dad paid off big-time.
“Cleeee, you look amazing,” she says, swinging into the chair across from me. “You’reglowing. What’s your secret?”
Sex. Lots of incredible gravity-defying, soul-searing sex.
Nothing you’re missing, I’m sure.
“Skincare?” I lie.
“Ohh, yeah. If you have any tips, hook me up.” She inhales, looking at my drink. “One sec, I’m just going to grab a drink.”
I munch my churro as she heads inside, joining the line. The screaming, happy children across the street puncture the day with normalcy.
I fold my legs and tilt my head back to the sun, loving the cool breeze against my skin.
Spring in Portland always feels so fresh. The ocean air after a long winter cleanses the whole aura here, scrubbing everything pure.
Margot drops back in her chair a minute later, setting her mango smoothie on the wooden table in front of her.
“So, how’re things?”
“Oh, you know.” I shrug. “Nice and relaxing.”
“Uh-huh.” There’s a cautious look in her eyes. She takes a long sip of smoothie and closes her eyes in pleasure. “This stuff is fire. You’re missing out.” She pushes it toward me, but I shake my head.
