Page 87 of Synced to Us

He answers softly so only I can hear, “Then will you tell me?”

Holding onto him, I nod.

“Thank fuck,” he breathes out, visibly sagging in relief.

The entire restaurant erupts in applause, and a smile tugs at the corners of my mouth.

“I’m still stealing that finale kiss, though,” Wyn says, and pulls me to his lips.

McKenna nearly knocks over the table when she flies from her seat and gives the first, of many, standing ovations.

But it’s my heart that claps the loudest.

31

Wyn

I don’t want to intrude on Dee and McKenna’s brunch.

We’d created enough of a scene (and me enough of an entrance) that it would be impossible to sit without being stared at. Not to mention these tables belong more in an Upper East Side girl’s dollhouse than an actual person’s dining area. The chair legs were destined to crack and splinter under my ass as soon as I perched on one, so I regretfully released Dee from my hold, kissed McKenna on the cheek, and told Dee I’d be around.

She stares at me strangely after that statement.

I raise my brows. “What?”

Laughter bubbles in her throat. “As if I’d let you run off after serenading me.”

“But you two.” I swing my pointer finger between McKenna and Dee. “Brunch or whatever.”

McKenna laughs. “I’m eating for two, anyway. You guys buzz off. Do what you need to do.” She elbows me playfully. “Our plan worked. Keep it up.”

Dee smiles at her friend with a tilt to her lips she rarely deploys. It’s special, softer. After being on the receiving end of one, I’ve only ever wanted to give her more reasons to keep smiling like that.

“Let’s go back to my place,” Dee says. “It’s close by.”

I rumble my assent, meanwhile thinking, I’ve never been to her apartment. It’s the next step in a lot of ways: a form of trust I don’t want to screw up.

As we exit the restaurant, some people giving us thumbs up or leftover applause, we hang a right on the sidewalk where Dee hooks her arm through mine and we amble quietly through the bright, crowded day.

Miniature dogs sniff at our feet as owners pull them along. Couples walk hand-in-hand, sipping their lattes. Delivery guys on bikes zip around cars like a circus act, the frustrated honks absorbed by the heavy redbrick buildings surrounding us.

“I’m going to tell you something about myself,” Dee says abruptly enough that my attention turns comes back to her. Truthfully, it never left. “Things you may not like.”

“I said I love you, gorgeous. That means I love every bit of you.”

Her hold tightens on my arm. She lowers her voice. “I was fourteen when I realized the world isn’t kind or full of love. You wouldn’t think it to look at me then. I excelled at school and my favorite subject was math. I had a great group of friends and a healthy relationship with hard work, mostly because of my parents. They thrived in the community.”

“Where are you from?” I ask it not because it’s necessary, but Dee’s gone so stiff, it’s like I’m walking with a plastic Brunette Barbie. Asking banal questions might get her to relax some.

“Connecticut, actually. An upper middleclass town called Brackston.”

I hum my interest, all the while stroking her fingers, calming the hairs rising along her skin.

“My mom was a kindergarten teacher and involved in the PTA. Dad was a very successful businessman. Finance, of course. The neighborhood loved them. My best friend at the time, Ella, envied how close I was to them, and they respected me just the same. There were always celebratory dinners for my straight A’s, they cheered for me on the stage at dance recitals. Dad was the first to help me with science projects.”

“Basically the perfect family.”

“Uh-huh.” Dee’s steps slow. “Until one day, I returned home from school to find it rimmed in police cars. At first, I thought someone was hurt, but as policeman after policeman came out my front door with computers, documents, garbage bags of items, it became clear they were searching the house. My safe, wholesome home. I ran up to a detective, asking where my parents were. He wanted to ask me the same thing. Where are they? Did they tell you? I had no idea. I told him we were supposed to be going out to dinner tonight to celebrate me acing my science project. The detective retorted that dinner would have to be rescheduled, because my father’s a top suspect in a high-level Ponzi scheme operating out of Manhattan. Millions of dollars were embezzled.”

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