“Anything?” Pip smiled at Ravi. “Yes, anything you want,” he said. “This is a full-on cheer-up-Pip day. No true crime documentaries, though. Those are banned.” “And what if I said I really wanted a Scrabble tournament?” she said, sticking her finger through his sweater into his ribs, their steps clumsily winding in and out of each other’s across the drive. “I’d say, game on, bitch.
