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“Yeah. I mean.” I hold his eyes and put down another stone. “What evenarenumbers—”
I snap my mouth shut. We must have reached for the same square. My fingers brush against Jack’s, and something electric and unidentifiable licks up my arm. I wait for him to pull away, but he doesn’t. Even though it wasmyturn. Wasn’t itmyturn? I’m pretty sure—
“Well, if it isn’t a draw.”
I yank back my hand. Millicent is next to me, staring at the board. I follow her gaze and nearly gasp, because... she’s right.
I justnot-thrashed Jack Freaking Smith at Go.
“It’s been a long time since Jack hasn’t won a game,” Millicent says with a pleased smile.
It’s been a long time sinceIhaven’t won a game.What the hell? I look up at Jack—still staring, still furrowing his brow, still judgingme silently. My brain blanks. I panic and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “There are more legal board positions in Go than the atoms in the known universe.”
A snort. “Someone’s been telling me since he was barely out of diapers.” Millicent glances shrewdly at Jack, who isstill.Staring. At. Me.“You and Elsie make for a very good couple. Although, Jack, my dear, she should still sign a prenup.”
I don’t immediately understand what she’s saying. Then I do and turn crimson all over. “Oh, no. Mrs. Smith, I’m—I’m dating Greg. Yourothergrandson.”
“Are you sure?”
What?“I—yes. Of course.”
“Didn’t seem like it.” She shrugs. “But what do I know? I’m a ninety-year-old bat who frolics in mud.” I watch her shuffle toward the canapé table. Then I turn to Jack with a nervous laugh.
“Wow. That was—”
He’sstillstaring. At me. Stone faced. Intent. Sectoral heterochromic. Like I’m interesting, very interesting, very,veryinteresting. I open my mouth to ask him what’s going on. To demand a rematch to the death. To beg him to quit counting the pores in my nose. And that’s when—
“Smile, guys!”
I whip my head around, and the flash of Izzy’s Polaroid instantly blinds me.
•••
“My parents’ anniversary next month should be the last time I need to take you along.” Greg signals right and pulls into my building’s parking lot. “After, I’ll tell Mom you broke up withme. I begged you not to. Serenaded you. Bought you my weight in plushies—all in vain.”
I nod sympathetically. “You’re heartbroken. Too inconsolable to date someone else.”
“I might need to find solace in a Spotify playlist.”
“Or frost your tips.”
He grimaces. I laugh, and once the car stops I lean against the passenger door to study his handsome profile in the yellow lights. “Tell her that I cheated on you with the Grubhub delivery guy. It’ll buy you longer moping rights.”
“Brilliant.”
We’re silent while I think about Greg’s situation. The reason he even needs a fake girlfriend. What he felt comfortable tellingme, a stranger, and not his own family. How similar we are. “After this is done, if you need... if youwantsomeone to talk to. A friend. I’d love to...”
His smile is genuine. “Thanks, Elsie.”
I’m barely out of the car. Ice crinkles under the heel of my boot as I turn around. “Oh, Greg?”
“Yes?”
“What’s the Woodacre thing?”
He groans. His neck tips back against the headrest. “It’s a silent meditation retreat our boss is forcing us to do. We’re leaving tomorrow—four days of no contact with the outside world. No email, no Twitter. He got the idea from a Goop newsletter.”
Oh. “So it has nothing to do with... complicated science?”
