Page 90 of Double Fault

“You,” she answers in a tone that tells me I should have known the answer. “What color do you want?”

“You pick.”

I’ve never had the extra cash to splurge on manicures, so Maddie is the only person who’s touched my nails since I met her. By now, she’s painted them just about every color, so I figure I might as well let her pick.

“Hmm.” She taps her bottom lip as she surveys the options. “This one.” She plucks out a glittery plum color.

As she works, Ebba watches with rapt attention.

“You are pretty good at that.”

Maddie pulls her shoulders back, beaming. “Thank you. Now it’s your turn.”

Unlike me, Ebba chooses her color. From the way she wrinkles her nose, I assume that none of the vibrant choices are exactly her taste. She ends up going with a coral pink.

By the time the second movie ends, Maddie is getting sleepy, but she’s fighting it. I can’t blame her for wanting to make her first sleepover last as long as possible.

“Time for truth or dare.” Ebba claps once.

With a huff, I give her a side-eyed glance.

“What?” She bats her eyes innocently. “It’s a sleepover staple.”

“Dare,” Maddie declares boldly. “I want a dare.”

Ebba tilts her head from side to side, lips pressed together. “I dare you to show us your best dance moves.”

Without hesitation, Maddie jumps up and gives it her all, eliciting giggles from all three of us.

“When you’re older”—Ebba says, gripping her little wrist lightly—“remind me to show you some real dance moves.”

Maddie waves her hand wildly, like she’s sitting in a classroom, eager to answer a question. “Is it my turn to ask?”

“Sure is.” Ebba stretches her legs out in front of her.

She turns to me. “Sabrina, I dare?—”

I bark out a laugh. “Hey, missy. You have to ask me truth or dare first.”

“Oh.” Her cheeks pinken, and she drops back onto her sleeping bag. “Truth or dare?”

I sigh dramatically and let my shoulders drop. “I guess I’ll do dare.”

Bouncing in place, she claps and squeals. “I dare you to text my dad.”

My heart lurches.That was not what I was expecting.

Heart racing, I pull out my phone, doing my best to keep my expression even. “Anything in particular you want me to say?”

Of all the things she could’ve come up with, why did it have to be that?

“Um.” She taps her bottom lip. “You should ask him on a date.”

My whole body freezes—my heart, my lungs, everything. Beside me, Ebba presses her lips together, no doubt to keep from bursting into laughter.

When I regain the ability to breathe, I suck in a harsh breath. “You want me to ask your dad on a date?”

“Sure.” She shrugs. “Why not?”

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