Amy's POV
I hadn't given Leo an answer by the time I got to school the next morning.
I'd thought about it, like I said I would turned it over through the evening while I made dinner and ate it alone at the kitchen table because Mark had come home late and gone straight to his room, turned it over in bed with the lights off and the apartment quiet around me, turned it over on the bus with my bag on my lap and the city moving past the window in its usual indifferent way.
By the time I pushed through the school doors at eight forty-seven I had arrived at a position I felt reasonably settled in, which was: probably not. The risks were obvious and numerous and the potential for things to go significantly wrong in several directions simultaneously was high, and I had a fundamental distrust
