Page 412 of Wicked Brutal

Penny laughs. “You get used to it.”

The kid looks at Tobias. “He just won in Vegas.”

“I know,” Tobias says. “We watched.”

“He’s going pro.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s Xander Anderson.”

Tobias looks at X, then back at his friend. “That’s X.”

X’s expression changes. Just a little. Penny notices — of course she does — and kisses his cheek.

X hooks an arm tighter around her, then looks at Tobias. “Dude.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Tobias shrugs and takes his friends toward the lake. I watch them go. He doesn’t look back. Doesn’t check where Ally is. Doesn’t check where Mom or Dad are. Doesn’t ask permission to exist outside somebody’s line of sight. He just goes. Ten years old. Secure enough to be annoying as fuck. Exactly how it should be.

Across the yard, Kaid is arguing with Cat. “I did not say nuclear engineering is unnecessary.”

“You implied it.”

“I said public policy affects nuclear energy.”

“Which is adorable.”

“Stop calling my degree adorable.”

“It’s your master’s.”

“Stop calling my master’s adorable.”

Cat lifts her left hand, the engagement ring flashing. “You proposed to me knowing who I am.”

“Worst decision of my life.”

“Liar.”

Kaid grabs her around the waist, and she laughs when he kisses her. Berkeley hasn’t changed them. Neither has getting engaged at graduation. Different coast, new programs, same fucking chaos.

Danny passes behind them carrying two plates, and Becca reaches out and steals something from one without looking. He stops. “Becs.”

She looks at him. “You had two.”

“One was yours.”

“Exactly.”

Her engagement ring flashes too. Stanford graduation gave us two engagements and approximately fourteen hours of Cat screaming about wedding planning before both couples threatened to elope. Danny’s at NYU now, working toward his PhD in bioengineering, focused on addiction research. Becca graduated with enough languages to communicate with half the planet and immediately started her policy analysis internship with the Executive Office of the Secretary-General at the UN. English. Russian. French. Spanish. Then Mandarin and Arabic, because apparently four wasn’t enough.

Tobias comes running back toward the food, and Becca says something in Russian. He answers without slowing down. Katya joins. Danny says something too — his Russian is a hell of a lot better after four years of living with Becca. Then Becca switches to Spanish, and Tobias stops.

Katya laughs, and Theodore catches her around the waist, and she leans into him. Married. Finally. Last spring. There was so much food at that wedding that we ate leftovers for three days, because Katya catered half her own reception before Mom and Becca physically banned her from the kitchen. Now her home catering business has grown enough that Mom brings up a storefront at least once a month. Katya’s answer is always the same: she has a kitchen. Why would she need another kitchen?