Alex isn’t the Jester, I realized. It was someone else. Pulse pounding, I took a few steps back from the stove to lean against the kitchen’s small butcher-block island. I hate you, I wrote to see if my inkling was right. I used to tell Tag I hated him all the time and he always had the same comeback. I don’t believe you, read the next email. Tears prickled in the corners of my eyes. Why not? The minute that passed after I pressed Send might as well have taken an entire day. Twenty-four hours. My heart lurched when an answer finally appeared. Because you’ve got my favorite smile on your face,
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