“That is practical.”
“Dragons need snacks.”
“Yes.”
“Are you really a dragon?”
“No.”
She considers him. “Are you sure?”
“I would know.”
“My uncle says grown-ups don’t know lots of stuff.”
“Your uncle is wise.”
Esme beams, and Kauss folds the drawing with absurd precision before tucking it inside his coat.
My chest does something tender and terrifying.
Darlene notices because she is an emotional surveillance state in orthopedic shoes. “Careful, honey,” she murmurs as Esme and her mother move to the counter. “Your face is doing that thing again.”
“What thing?”
“The thing where your heart climbs out through your eyes and embarrasses the rest of us.”
I pour coffee into a travel cup. “You are exhausting.”
“So is denial.”
“I am not in denial.”
“Then say it.”
“Say what?”
“That you’re falling for him.”
My hand jerks, and coffee sloshes onto the counter.
Darlene nods toward the spill. “Compelling rebuttal.”
I grab a towel and wipe too fast. “I am not falling for him.”
“You already fell. We’re just waiting for the dust to settle.”
“Darlene.”
“No, listen.” Her voice drops, losing some of its bite. “I’m not teasing to be cruel. Well, not only to be cruel. I see you watching him like you’re afraid he’ll vanish if you blink.”
I keep wiping the counter after the coffee is gone.
“He might,” I say.
The words are small. Too honest.
Darlene’s face softens. “Yeah.”
