this welcoming. Would she?”
I fold the edge of the blanket over and smooth it out. “It’s complicated.”
She rolls her eyes. “That’s what Leo would say. And then he would laugh.” She impersonates his laugh, and it’s so close that I laugh too. Daphne’s version has none of the barbs that Leo’s real laugh does. “Are you in college?”
“English lit.” I’ll have to go back for the spring semester, when this is all over. Go back to college and pretend I’m the same as I was. “I graduate in the spring.”
“Oh, fun. I just graduated. Do you know what you want to do after, or are you still deciding?”
“I’m just trying to survive until graduation.” Admitting it feels good. Watching her break into a smile and laugh again, a kind laugh, feels better. It also feels bizarre. Morellis aren’t supposed to be like this. They’re supposed to be cunning and cruel and ambitious. All of them. “Then we’ll see. Maybe I should move somewhere warm.”
This, unlike the books I’ve been reading, is a real fantasy. I’m not going to move anywhere once I graduate. Cash doesn’t deserve to try and go to school and look out for our dad by himself. When my thirty days are up, I’ll be going back home for spring semester and I’ll stay home.
I swallow against pain. “What about you? What kind of art are you going to look at?”
Daphne leans in, eyes bright. “I’m not looking, I’m selling.” She picks up her sketchbook from the couch next to her and hands it to me. The page is full of curls and swoops that suggest water and movement. It’s gorgeous, and she’s only used two colors—blue and black. “I’m obsessed with the ocean lately. I’ve figured out a way to make the waves look alive. I want to do my room like that. A whole wall of nothing but the ocean. For now, I want to put up some of my smaller pieces for sale.” She straightens up again with a rueful sigh. “I hope the guy at the gallery isn’t freaked out by Leo’s security team.”
I raise my eyebrows at Daphne, and she groans good-naturedly. “Leo thinks the dealer is shady, so he made me come here first. Apparently my own bodyguard isn’t enough for the situation. I reminded him that I’m an adult woman and I can take care of myself, but you know how he is.”
“Intense,” I supply, because that’s the kindest way I can think to describe him.
“Yeah,” Daphne agrees. “Protective. Maybe to a fault.” A memory curves up the corners of her lips. “One time, this jackass was mean to me in middle school. It was the first week of sixth grade, and I came home crying, and Leo saw.” Her eyes go distant, and she shakes her head a little. “Leo waited for him the next day after school. Scared the shit out of that kid. I made him promise not to beat him up, but maybe it would have been better if he had. He can be prickly when he's mad. Whatever he said haunted that guy for life.”
Prickly—more like serrated.
Daphne shakes herself out of the memory and picks up her sketchbook, tucking it close to her body. “Anyway, everyone was so nice to me after that. I probably had the best middle school experience in history.”
I can imagine it. I couldn’t have yesterday, with Leo’s fingers inside me and his voice in my ear. But I believe Daphne. It’s unsettling to think of him with this hidden side. It’s easier to hate a cartoon villain. And if he’s not a cartoon villain, what is he?
The conversation turns back to paintings of the ocean. Daphne’s in the middle of telling me about her art when she trails off, her eyes sliding to a point behind me. Another big smile. “You didn’t tell me she was fun, Leo.”
I turn around to see him standing just inside the threshold, expression lightly scolding. It reminds me of the way he looked in my dream. “You were supposed to meet Gerard fifteen minutes ago, not snoop around in my den. I should have you thrown out for trespassing.”
His sister sticks her tongue out at him. “You wouldn’t and you know it,” she sings, and then she’s by his side, rising up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. I focus all my energy on keeping my own mouth shut, keeping my own jaw off the floor. That anyone, anyone, would be this way with