Page 26 of The Marriage Mistake

“Only that it seems to be the same guy. He covers his face and is always on foot.”

“Strange,” I said.

“Especially since they’re hitting all kinds of businesses without even doing any break-ins. We can’t find a connection between them at all.”

I nodded. “So they’re targeting you.”

Jack stared at me. Darby frowned.

“Your company, I mean,” I clarified. “Since that’s the only link between the sites. Have you heard about any security equipment being vandalized that doesn’t belong to one of your clients? If yes, it’s a widespread issue. If no, the vandal is targeting your clients specifically.”

It was obvious, wasn’t it? But Jack stared at me like I’d just told him something mind-blowing.

He pushed his chair back. “I need to make a call,” he said, and stepped into the living room.

“You’re smart,” Darby told me.

I picked up the last piece of carrot on my plate and pointed it at her. “That’s a step up from weird,” I noted.

Her smile was wide when she said, “You’re smart and weird.”

I laughed right in time to look over and watch Jack walk back into the kitchen. His eyes snagged on me as my laughter faded, then flicked over to Darby. An expression passed over his face—surprise, maybe. Something deeper. But then it was gone.

When dinner was over, I helped clear the plates, and was about to retreat to my lair in the attic when Darby said, “Ember, Dad said you could help me with my math homework.”

I blinked, my dirty plate suspended above the dishwasher tray. “Um. Did he?”

Jack gave me a hopeful look from behind Darby. “You’re good at math, right?”

“It’s all these letters,” Darby complained, shoving the utensils in the dishwasher basket. “They’re so confusing.”

She was learning algebra, maybe for the first time. I was supposed to be keeping my distance from her—not letting her get attached—but a little help with homework wouldn’t hurt, would it? “I can have a look,” I conceded.

That’s how I ended up sitting at the kitchen table once more with Darby by my side and eighth grade math textbooks spread out before me. Darby had a pencil in her hand as she stared at the worksheet in front of her, scowling. She looked just like her father, and it made me want to smile.

“Okay. Algebra,” I said, feeling a little more at ease. This was more familiar ground. Math. Logic.

“Why are there letters? I thought math was supposed to be numbers.”

“The further you get in math, the fewer numbers there are,” I said.

“That’s stupid.”

“I think that’s a swear jar word,” I noted.

Darby glared at me so forcefully I leaned back, but on the other side of the kitchen, where he scrubbed a baking sheet, I caught the edge of Jack’s smile.

I turned back to the worksheet. “Okay. How about you tell me what you find confusing.”

“Everything!”

“Okay. Sure. I guess we can start with the question. Let’s read that out.”

“It just says ‘solve each equation.’” Darby scowled.

I nodded and grabbed a scrap piece of paper. “Right. So in each equation, we’re looking to figure out what the missing number is. Right?”

“I guess?”