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So I lie to the one person who has never once lied to me.

“I’m happy, Mark.” I pour every real thing I am into it, because the only way to sell this is to sound like myself. “It moved fast. I know how it looks. But I’m in a beautiful place, I’m doing good work, and I’m happier than I’ve been in ten years of that hospital—which you also worried about, if you’ll recall.”

There’s enough silence from him to make me nervous.

Then, he sounds tired. “Tell me the truth. The happy part. Because I counted, Vee. In everything you’ve sent me in two weeks, I have found exactly one lie, and I’m listening for the second.”

My eyes sting. I hate that he’s right. I hate lying to him at all. He’s the only person who has always been there for me.

But lying keeps him safe from Lupo, and I need him safe more than I need him happy with me.

“There’s no second lie. I met someone. He has a daughter with leukemia, and she needed a specialist, and one thing led to another faster than anything ever has for me. It’s real, and it’s good, and I need you to trust me the way I’ve trusted you your whole life. Be happy for me, Mark.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Cancer isn’t fair.”

“That’s not—you know what I’m saying. Don’t throw happiness in my face and pretend this isn’t out of the ordinary.”

“I know it’s weird⁠—”

“Weird does not begin to describe it. Adeline says you missed your promotion over this.” He blows out a breath. “You. The woman who pulled so many all-nighters that she got a desk in her college library named for her. You’re the woman who missed her promotion for some guy? I don’t fucking believe you.”

Through the glass, Sarah shows her grandmother a card trick that isn’t a trick, and Diana gasps in all the right places.

I anchor myself to that while my brother judges me. “This isn’t up for debate, Mark. I’m telling you what’s happened. Not what’s going to happen. You can either be happy for me or not. Those are your choices.”

When he speaks again, it’s the voice from when we were kids, and I’d talk him down from something stupid, turned around and aimed at me. “I’m landing in Milan tomorrow. I told my firm it’s a government contract. I’ll get a hotel, I’ll be polite. I’ll meet your husband and your sick little stepdaughter and see your beautiful place. If all of it’s what you say, I’ll fly home, buy you a wedding gift, and never mention my doubt again.”

“And if it isn’t?”

“You’d never let me get away with a text and a tree, Vee. You know it. You’d kick my ass.”

I close my eyes. “You’re not wrong.”

“No shit.”

“Come. Meet them. See my new life.” God help me, because now I have to build a stage set solid enough to survive the one person alive who knows all of my tells. “But Mark—be kind. To all of them, Sarah especially. Whatever you think of how fast this happened, there’s a six-year-old in it who’s been through hell. She doesn’t get to be collateral for your suspicions.”

“I don’t hurt kids, Veda.” He’s offended, and I don’t blame him for it. “What kind of an asshole do you think I am?”

“The kind who flies over an ocean on a bad feeling to save his sister. The best kind there is.”

“Don’t forget it again.”

“You’re pretty much making it impossible to.” And I wish you would.

If Mark was actually an asshole, my life would be so much simpler.

We work out the logistics in the clipped shorthand we’ve used since we were kids splitting chores. I hang up and stand on the terrace until the shaking in my hands settles, then I do the only thing left.

Find Lupo and tell him family is coming to visit. And judge.

He’s in the study, sleeves rolled, three phones on the desk and none of them ringing. He looks up when I come in, and whatever’s on my face straightens his spine before I say a word.

“Busy?”

He shakes his head. “For you? Never. What’s bothering you?”