“Correct,” Brandon agreed, hiding a smile.
“Don’t married people want privacy?” Lisa asked, with the air of someone quoting a fact she’d learned somewhere.
I nearly choked on nothing.
Brandon looked at her, then very slowly turned and looked at me. “And who,” he said, “have you been talking to?”
Lisa considered whether to give up her source. “…Aunt Megan,” she
at trash can. Lisa was right here, in the middle of the bed, in the middle of us, exactly where she’d always belonged. She was never the baggage.
She was the whole reason any of us were here at all.
