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“Oh, and don’t worry about Daniel and Sarah,” Bryan tells me. “The driver is taking them home. He’ll come back for you in an hour. We have plenty of time.”
Then he looks at Jake and me with the pleasantest of smiles, like we’re all just having a chat and isn’t this lovely.
And I don’t really see what else to do. So I take the sofa, and Jake takes a chair.
“Do your parents know?” Bryan asks me.
“No,” I say. “Absolutely not. They’d fire Jake if they knew.”
If I have to lie my way through this, I’m going to lie.
“When did it start?” Bryan asks.
“A few days ago,” I say.
“Nine years,” Jake answers. “I’ve loved her since I was eight.”
Oh, so we’re telling that kind of a story.
“Miss Markham—may I call you Halli?”
“You might as well,” I say. It seems like we’re past any formality n
