A memory landed, unbidden, in Maggie’s mind and she rushed to shake it off, while, across the aisle, Ethan blinked. “I’m a little confused, Marcie, my dear—” “Maggie,” she forced out. “Why are you acting like we’re enemies?” “Why are you acting like we’re friends?” “What . . .” “Either we’re”—Maggie made a gesture—“finger-gun buddies—” “I don’t think that’s a real thing.” “—or we’re not. But please don’t try to gaslight me into thinking we’re friends when you don’t even know my name.” “Marcie . . .”
