Still, it doesn’t take a genius to see Grace’s intentions are anything but pure. We’re both in our thirties, healthy, and in no immediate danger of cashing in our chips. “No,” I say flatly. “No?” She blinks, looking genuinely surprised. She is not accustomed to that word, especially from me. “No,” I repeat. “I don’t intend to think about it.” “Oh . . . well, I understand.” But she doesn’t. Which is why she deflates like a balloon.
