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Tess glances at Mrs. Lockhart, who’s waiting for her coffee. And eyeing us. Like Frank.

“A real dream come true,” she says. But she doesn’t sound convinced. And I refuse to give up.

Sure this bright side thing is unfamiliar territory for me, but I’m no quitter. Persistence is my comfort zone. “What I’m saying is, thanks to the director position, you’ve got some time to figure out your next living arrangement. And what your next job will be. So yeah. Anyway…” My words die off along with the strength of my argument.

“Next job. Right.”

Did I say something wrong? If so, I can fix this.

“When you think about it,” I go on, “the whole camp situation is working out for both of us.” This is me trying again. One last-ditch effort to cheer Tess up. But she shoves her phone in her purse, grabs her macchiato, and blows across the top.

Now, admittedly, deciphering social cues isn’t my greatest strength, but Tess doesnotappear to be happy. And it would be a whole lot better formeif she were smiling while we’re together. Specifically when Frank’s around. At the bare minimum, I need him to believe I don’t make Tess McCoy miserable. That’s sort of rule number one for a date. Rule number two should be no tears. But when Tess lifts her gaze, her eyes are wet.

Man, the bright side is the worst.

“Let’s just grab our food and go,” she says, and my stomach sinks. For her.Becauseof her.

Across the room, Frank smirks at me.

I need to come up with another plan.

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