“Why?” she asks, the single syllable devoid of even a fraction of emotion. It gives me pause, my fingers brushing against her as they fall back to my side. “Why not?” “That’s a very selfish way to look at it.” My eyebrows arch in surprise. “Whatever gave you the impression I was anything but?” She scoffs, folding her arms over her chest, tucking her hands beneath her armpits. “Wishful thinking, I guess.” Behind us, the door to Mateo’s bedroom opens slowly, my employee’s strawberry-blond head poking in. Marcelline glances around with her wide blue eyes, then slips inside with a duffel bag
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