If there was one thing I’d learned about this family, it was that even the simplest decisions turned into full‑scale negotiations. Case in point: deciding who should contact Paloma — on the very weekend that was supposed to be filled with roses, chocolate, and romantic plans, not forged affidavits and emotional landmines.
“We should just call her,” I said, holding up the number Bodhi had sent us. “The sooner we talk to her, the sooner we can start dismantling Alma’s lies.”
Bodhi’s reaction was immediate and visceral. “No. Absolutely not. I’m not calling her.”
Elias frowned. “You’re the one who knew her.”
“That’s exactly why I’m not calling her,” Bodhi said, voice tight. “Paloma doesn’t want to hear from me. Ever.”
I studied him. Bodhi wasn’t often serious. But now he looked like someo
