trickster myself, just like my father. I’m no better than he was.” “You are better. You are a hundred times better.” “But if someone found out . . . Ian, it could be horrible. Newspapers . . .” He wasn’t listening. “We don’t fit in, you and me,” he said. “We’re both oddities no one knows what to do with. But we fit together.” He took her hand, pressed her palm to his, then laced their fingers through each other’s. “We fit.” He was saying, We are adrift and no one wants us, not the real us. We might as well drift together. Not, Please marry me, Beth. I love you. Ian had told her that first
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