Chapter 6

Back in the car, my silence apparently bothered him, because Cassian's brow pulled tight.

"What's with that look?"

"Going public is what you've wanted this whole time, isn't it?"

I locked my phone screen and said, evenly, "No, it's fine. I don't think that's necessary anymore."

His fingers went rigid on the wheel. His throat worked once before he managed, low and rough, "What does that mean? Are you saying you want to—"

His phone rang.

Blair's name lit up the screen. Her voice came through bright and syrupy.

"I'm stuck on a few things with the East Side project."

"Cassian, walk me through it?"

Before he could even answer, she added, almost as an afterthought, "Oh, wait, calling this late, your wife's not going to be mad, is she?"

"Don't worry about her," he said, flat.

Then he actually did it. Walked her through the whole thing, patient, warm, his voice gone completely soft in a way it never went for me.

A few sentences in, he glanced over at me.

I had my chin propped on my hand, looking out the window. Nothing on my face at all.

In the reflection off the glass, I watched him falter, brow creasing slightly. Like he couldn't work out why the woman who used to interrogate him and pick fights every single time Blair got too close was sitting here now, completely unbothered.

Blair kept chattering away on speaker. I finally cut in, quiet.

"Can you not, while you're driving?"

Something like understanding flickered across his mouth, there and gone.

"I've told you already, there's nothing left between us. You don't need to be jealous."

"Oh, I'm not jealous." I shook my head. "I'd just like to not die in a car crash. My life's worth something to me."

He went completely still. Didn't say another word the rest of the drive.

Saturday, I went camping with Juno and her son, Otis, out at a lake up in the Hudson Valley.

Otis is a year older than Atlas. Round little hands, round little cheeks, two dimples when he smiles, and about as sweet and outgoing as a six-year-old can possibly be.

I brought a new remote control car for the trip. Sleek little thing, red and blue, actually meant for Atlas originally. He hadn't even bothered opening the box before deciding, coldly, that he didn't want it.

"Do you have any idea what kind of toys Aunt Blair gets me?" he'd said.

So I'd quietly packed it back up.

Otis, on the other hand, lost his mind over it. Hugged the box like it was Christmas morning, told me I was the most beautiful godmother alive and I had the best taste in toys in the entire world. Then he threw his chubby little arms around me and blew me a loud, dramatic kiss.

"Best godmother ever!"

"I love you the most, Auntie Maren!"

Juno teased him, "What about me?"

He grinned. "Oh right, you too, Mom. I love you both the most!"

We spent the whole afternoon out there together. I don't think my face stopped smiling once.

As it got dark, we packed up and headed for the parking lot, Otis steering his new car along the gravel path, cracking up every time it swerved.

"Auntie Maren, this is so fun!"

"You're the best at picking presents!"

Juno poked him in the forehead. "Suck-up."

I laughed, and I was just about to say something back when a small shape shot out from the side and slammed into Otis, knocking him flat onto the gravel.

A furious little voice screamed over him.

"That's my toy! You're a thief!"