The Cousins(70)

“Not that I’ve seen. I can look again. I have to get home anyway.” Hazel sighs and puts the letter back into the envelope. “We’re packing up Granddad’s stuff.”

“Would you mind if I hang on to this?” Uncle Archer asks, holding up the autopsy report. “I’d like to show Oona. Maybe she’ll pick up on something I haven’t.”

“Sure,” Hazel says. “See you guys around.” She tucks the envelope beneath one arm and slips past Archer out the door.

Aubrey plucks at my sleeve. “We should go in another ten minutes or so,” she says. “Gran’s car will be on its way soon. Unless you want to stay here.”

“No, I’m going with you,” I answer.

“Will you come back?” Jonah asks.

“Probably not,” I say, my words clipped. A small part of my brain registers that I sound an awful lot like my mother when she’s about to freeze someone out for disappointing her. The rest of me is too upset to care.



“Milly, please.” Jonah leans forward, his voice low and urgent. “Can we just talk for a minute?”

Uncle Archer clears his throat. “I’m going to make coffee, if anyone wants some,” he says, heading for the kitchen.

“I do!” Aubrey, that traitor, jumps up to follow him.

The seat beside me is empty now, but Jonah’s smart enough not to move there. “Milly, I’m sorry,” he says. “I should’ve told you about my parents and Anders. Believe it or not, I was actually going to—”

“I don’t believe it,” I interrupt.

“I was actually going to tell you the night of the gala,” he continues. “I tried, when we were on the balcony. But you, um.” He tugs at the collar of his T-shirt. “You wanted to talk about other things.”

My cheeks flame. That night is more than a little hazy, but not so much that I don’t remember that I was less talking on the balcony than stumbling around drunkenly and hitting on Jonah. “Kind of late, don’t you think? You should’ve told us from the start. Aubrey and I deserved that much, after we kept your secret. But you couldn’t, right? That would’ve spoiled your revenge.” I pull my eyes up from the floor so I can glare at him. “I’m surprised you bothered waiting till the gala. You could’ve laid into Mildred at Catmint House.”

“I was going to,” Jonah says, and that surprises me into silence. “When she asked how Anders was doing? I had a whole speech planned. But I couldn’t say it. I didn’t want to say it. I didn’t care anymore about hurting Anders. Not if it hurt you, too.”

I ignore the warmth blossoming in my chest. “You didn’t seem worried about that last night.”

“I screwed up,” Jonah says simply. “It was a nightmare moment and I just—I let my temper take over. You don’t know what it’s like, to have someone like Anders—”



“No, I don’t know,” I interrupt, getting to my feet. “Since you didn’t tell me.” Ugh. I don’t want to keep going over this with him, but I can’t just drop it, either. “First you lied to me about who you are, and when I caught you in that lie, you lied to me about why you’re here.” I hold up a hand before he can protest. “A lie of omission is still a lie. You told a bunch of half-truths, and you let me think we were…friends….”

My voice catches on the word and then all of a sudden there are tears in my eyes, which is infuriating. I never cry. I’m Allison Story’s daughter, after all.

Jonah stands too, and grabs both my hands. “We are friends,” he says urgently. “Friends is like the minimum of how I feel about you. I care about you so much, Milly, you have no idea—”

I pull away just as Uncle Archer and Aubrey reenter the room. “No, I don’t. Because once again? You didn’t tell me.”

Aubrey looks chagrined as she holds out a red Solo cup filled with milky brown liquid. “Coffee to go for you, Milly. I’m sorry, but if we don’t leave now—”

“Fine,” I say, brushing at my eyes. “I’m ready.”

Uncle Archer comes up beside me and pulls me into a one-armed hug. Almost like he knows that’s as much contact as I can stand right now. He steers me a little ways from the others, and bends his head toward mine.

“It’s all right to be mad, Milly,” he whispers. “You’re entitled to that feeling. But give some thought to forgiveness too, okay? If there’s one characteristic I wish the Story family had more of, it’s that.”





“Go on,” Anders said irritably. He poked Allison from their window seat in Arabella’s Coffee Shop, directly across the street from Brewer Floral. “He’s right there. He’s alone. Do what you came to do.”

Allison swallowed hard as she watched Matt place flowerpots onto shelves. She couldn’t believe she was going to ask this, but…“Will you come with me?”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Anders groaned. “No. I gave you a ride. My job is done. Don’t drag me any further into this.”

Allison’s gaze stayed locked on Matt, her stomach churning. She didn’t know what she was going to do about the pregnancy. Some days, she was sure abortion was the only answer. Other days, she imagined going off to college pregnant without Mother knowing, and giving the baby up for adoption when it was born. Sometimes she even thought about keeping it. Why shouldn’t she? She had the kind of resources most people only dreamed of.