Page 130 of The Persistence of Thornes
“I don’t know,” I say. “She might be worse. She’s pretty unhinged. Just wait until you finally meet her.”
Quinn leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Is your dad cool, at least?”
I stifle a snort. “No. He goes along with my mom, regardless of the situation. It took me a long time to see that he does that for his own sanity.”
“Women,” Quinn says, his tone knowing, like he’s feigning way more experience than he actually has.
“Hey,” Halle scolds playfully, batting at his arm.
“What?” He raises his hands, brows high on his head. “You can’t deny it. You women can be?—”
I throw a hand up in warning. “Trust me, you don’t want to finish that statement.”
Dark eyes twinkling, he mimes zipping his lips.
Halle gives my hand a squeeze. “Should have left him to dig his own grave.”
“Us guys gotta stick together, right, Caleb?” Quinn barks a laugh.
“I’m just trying to help, and here I am getting in trouble,” I gripe, all tease. “Hate to break it to you, though, man, but I’m going to pick your sister’s side every time.”
“Traitor,” the kid mumbles.
“So, even though we’ve never met, your mom already hates me?” Halle asks, bringing the conversation back around.
The tightness in my gut worsens. “She doesn’t hate you. She doesn’t even know you.”
Lips pursed, Halle slides lower in her seat. “It feels like she hates me. I can feel the hatred burning through your phone.”
I groan. “She’s a miserable person. It’s nothing personal.”
“You know…” She pulls her hand from mine and plays with the frayed fabric at the knee of her jeans. “If we’re… you know… together… I’m going to have to meet her eventually.”
“There were an awful lot of pauses in that,” I point out,chest constricting half in elation that she’s considering it and half in fear that she’ll change her mind.
“It feels weird to call you my boyfriend.” She wrinkles her nose at the word. “It sounds so middle school.”
“I’m pretty sure there’s a chaplain walking around here somewhere.” I lean forward, like I’m going to stand. “Maybe we could convince him to marry us.”
She stares at me, open-mouthed. “I can’t tell whether you’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
“Don’t bother,” Quinn interjects. “Casen would kill you for getting married without him.”
“Well”—Halle gestures to her brother—“there you have it.”
“I can wait until he’s out of surgery.”
Her eyes widen. “Caleb.”
“What?” I blink, feigning innocence.
“It’s too soon.”
I ignore the disappointment that hits me and smile. “When it’s the right person, it’s never too soon.”
Some might argue that I don’t know what I’m talking about since I’ve been divorced, but Iknow. My gut has never steered me wrong before, and I’m certain it isn’t now.
