My heart constricts, and I find Lily mumbling the string of apologies into Loren’s shirt. He has his hand on the back of her head, his features sharpened. When he looks up at me, he says, “Thank God for Connor, right?” He tries to play off the pain that contorts his face. “God always has a way of stealing my credit,” Connor says. Loren’s lips curve in a small smile. I think, in this moment, I love Connor more for lightening the mood than for saving my cedar coffee table.
