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“I had a good coach,” Dean says, punching Caleb lightly on the shoulder.
Once the boys have thoroughly exhausted themselves, we all pile back into Caleb’s Escalade and drive back to the Gallo mansion for breakfast.
Since it’s Saturday, Sebastian Gallo has a half-dozen pancakes sizzling away on the countertop skillet. Yelena is making fresh-squeezed orange juice, filling the kitchen with a fresh citrus scent that reminds me of Kingmakers.
Leo scoops baby Natasha up out of her highchair to stop her from fussing. Unlike Leo, Natasha inherited her mother’s fair hair and violet-blue eyes. Her curls are wild and puffy as dandelion fluff, and her little eyebrows point upward in the middle in a way that makes her look perpetually quizzical.
Leo sits his baby sister on his forearm and pats her back until she stops squawking. Then he gently rubs his nose against hers and blows little puffs of air in her face until she giggles and tries to grab his cheeks with her chubby hands.
Dean watches all this with a strange expression on his face—part curious, and part pained.
If my research was right . . . Dean has a little sister, too.
“Go ahead and sit down,” Sebastian tells us. “The first batch of pancakes is ready.”
We arrange ourselves around the farmhouse table, Leo depositing Natasha back in her highchair so Sebastian can drop a pancake on her tray.
Yelena sets a glass of juice down in front of each of us. As she gives Leo his glass, she ruffles his hair affectionately. Then she rests her hand lightly on Dean’s shoulder and squeezes it in turn.
Dean and Yelena have been spending a lot of time together. She’s been telling him all about her and Adrian’s childhood in Russia—their summer holidays on the Black Sea and ski trips to Krasnaya Polyana. She tells him about distant cousins he never met, and talks about his grandmother that Adrian Yenin never mentioned.
I’ve likewise been catching up with Zoe. I told her most everything that happened this year at school, other than a few things between Dean and me that are too private to share.
“So you really love him?” she asked me. “And he makes you happy?”
“Extremely happy. Sort of sickeningly happy, actually.”
“Perfect,” Zoe laughed. “That’s all I care about.” She wrapped her arm around me to pull me close, and kissed me on the temple.
With only a fewweeks left before September, Dean knocks on the door of the Gallo’s lovely guest room on the top floor, in which I’ve been staying.
“Hey,” he says, poking his head inside. “Do you want to come somewhere with me?
“Of course,” I say, setting down the book I was reading.
It’s a gray Sunday morning—one of the only inclement days we’ve suffered over the summer.
As I follow Dean down two flights of stairs, I see that he has Leo’s car keys in his hand.
“Is Leo coming with us?” I ask.
“No,” Dean shakes his head. “Just you and me.”
Dean looks especially pale under the gloomy sky as we stride across the driveway to the waiting car. Almost as soon as he fits the key into the ignition, raindrops begin to spatter against the windshield.
“Where are we going?” I ask him.
“Gillson Park,” he replies.
We drive north of the city, up through Lakeview and Lincolnwood. As we pass into Evanston, I know where we’re going. But I stay quiet, feeling the tension in Dean’s fingers as he grips my hand harder and harder.
Gillson Park is located right on the rim of the lake, with a sandy beach on one side and a wildflower garden on the other. Dean parks the car, his hands paper-white where they grip the wheel. I can almost hear his heart hammering.
“Did you talk to her?” I ask him.
“Yes,” he says. “Last night on the phone.”
“She’s meeting us here?”
