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So it had happened. Somebody had finally tried to off my ass.
“No!” Dylan stood up, and when she did, it sounded like a water balloon burst against the floor, and her dress was all wet. “My water just broke.”
“Don’t do this,” he cut me off. “Don’t do what?” “Don’t run away from us. I’m telling you something important. I’m in love with you.”
“I’m asking you to fall in love with me.” His eyes didn’t drop from mine, clinging to my face, searching, pleading. “Please.” I almost smiled. I knew how hard it was for him to use this word. “What if you don’t catch me?” I worried my lip. “I will.” “How do you know?” “My arms have been wide-open and waiting for years.”
“Who picked him up?” “Row…” He sighed. “Sanders.” I smacked the wall of the house, about to lose my shit. Cal gasped. “Answer me.” “It was Mayor Murray.”
My tab with Allison Murray was forever open. She had tried to kill me. Had possibly sent people to stab the man I loved. Had an affair with my best friend’s fiancé.
“Franco. He…” She gulped, shaking her head. “We were together when you started hooking up. I…” She closed her eyes, one tear escaping past her lashes. “I…I was pregnant.”
But as I inched closer, the pitter-pattering of my heart had nothing to do with the run and everything to do with the man standing behind the barricades, holding a glittery, totally nineties-inspired sign that said: McMonster: oBITCHuary, I like your stamina. CALL ME!
We both looked down, and she noticed the new tattoo on my inner forearm. Of a perfect, round dot. She closed her eyes, fighting tears. “I want you to know, Ambrose Casablancas, that if I could ever be with anyone, it would be with you.” I smiled, letting go of her fingers, drifting away, apart. “I know, Dot. I know.”
Speaking of Row—his good reputation in Staindrop had been restored. Mom texted me that everybody now realized that the deal had always been good for the town.
She had come here using her last pennies to tell me she loved me. I was so going to marry the fuck out of this girl.
A week after I’d come to London, I had found myself a recording studio for my podcast, which was now taking off and already had ten thousand subscribers across all platforms.
As for Dylan, she’d tried encouraging Tucker to get involved with Grav, but he’d seemed grossly disinterested. He was still with Allison, who was awaiting trial for her Staindrop shenanigans while on house arrest.
He eyed me suspiciously as he meticulously and gently peeled the top part of the envelope, slowly tugging out the unmistakable black-and-white printout of ultrasound film.
