Page 79 of Say You Will

“‘Honey.’ You’re sweet enough, but it felt generic. A grandmother might say it. Not sexual or romantic enough for you.”

“Mmm. Not babe or baby?”

I cringe and shake my head. “I did consider ‘sweetheart.’ I have no idea why, but when I say it, it sounds patronizing.”

She laughs.

“At any rate, I decided to wait and see if something came naturally in the moment. And it di—” I cock my head, listening. “Do you hear that?”

“Yes.”

We both still.

“Someone is out here playing the guitar,” she says.

“It has to be Dean.” The fact that he’s outside, presumably alone, instead of with my sister, isn’t a good sign.

“It’s nice background music.”

We settle in and listen quietly, content to look at the stars and hold each other, as Dean works his way through several songs.

It’s late, and it’s been an eventful twenty-four hours. Despite the chilly night air, Franki is warm and comfortable against me, and, over the course of long minutes, I drift into a contented state of drowsiness.

My eyes snap open when a feminine wail cuts through the crisp October air, an absolute verbal assault. “Dean.Fuck, yes . . .”

What follows, I can only describe as the sound of my sister, somewhere in the distance,caterwauling.

I shoot straight up to sitting, virtually dragging Franki with me. She hunches over with laughter, her eyes gone wide and hands over her mouth.

“This is disturbing.” I’m glad Bronwyn and Dean are together out there, but why is she so lou—

“Why is she soloud?” Franki gasps on a laugh.

Exactly.

Another cry lights up the night, and, completely without ceremony or discussion, I pick Franki up and head straight back inside.

Franki is still laughing as I set her down in my room and close the window with an unnecessarily firmthwump. Blessed silence descends as we stand in the dim room, lit only by the light from the bathroom where the door is cracked open.

“Bronwyn and De—”

“Tch.” I place a finger over her lips.

When she lapses into silence, I cautiously withdraw.

“I was just going to say that Bron—”

I gently place my palm over her mouth. “I’m sorry. I can’t hear you with your mouth covered like that.”

She clutches my shirt and convulses with laughter.

“Blink once if I can trust you not to traumatize me.”

She blinks.

I remove my hand, and she straightens with a smile, glancing at the connecting door before looking back at me.

An expression I can’t interpret crosses her face. Fidgeting with her empty water bottle, she says, “Today was really nice.”

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