Page 44 of Perfect Praise

Me

Any time is good.

I can feel Elise’s smile against my head.

“We’re not dating,” I clarify for the millionthtime.

“I know,” she says, patting my chest once for each word I’ve repeatedly told her. “She’s just a colleague living in your guest house. You said it yourself you haven’t talked to her since she moved in. I only want to make her feel welcome.”

“Conrad,” I say, “tell your mother to behave.”

He looks up at us from where he’s playing with Emmie on the floor. “It’s your own fault for telling her Maren was even living back there.”

I scoff under my breath. What was I supposed to say when the first thing Elise asks me when she walks in the door is whose car is parked in front of the guest house and why are there lights on?

Conrad already thinks I’m insane for letting Maren stay, but he doesn’t really know how it happened. I think he sympathizes with my irrational need to protect her—though I’ve never fully understood it myself. He knows I’ve been staying away from her and that I’m trying my best to keep her out of my head. She’s been here for three weeks, but I haven’t gotten a chance to speak to her. She won’t come out of the house when she suspects I’m here, and the one time she thought I was gone, I had to remove myself from the window because I felt like a stalker watching her sit on my dock taking photographs of passing boats.

Leaving Maren alone is best.

When she knocks, everyone quiets down to annoyingly watch me walk out of the room.

I can see her through the window standing on my front porch in a dark blue dress with skinny straps and her wavy hair curling over her shoulders. It would help if she’d stop wearing so many goddamn dresses that are short and show off how long her legs are.

She smiles brightly when I open the door.

“You didn’t have to come around to the front,” I tell her.

“I felt weird,” she says, smoothing out the front of her dress. There’s nothing there except nerves.

I quirk an eyebrow. “Didn’t you read your lease?”

She springs her head up, green eyes bright. “You have a sense of humor under there, don’t you?”

“Und—”

“Maren!” Elise cuts me off and brushes past my shoulder. She gathers Maren into a hug, and I’m suddenly acutely aware that Maren is still standing on the porch because I didn’t invite her inside. “I’m Elise, Locke’s aunt. We’re so glad you could come.”

“I’m so glad one of you is a hugger,” Maren says, swaying back and forth with her eyes on me over Elise’s shoulder.

Elise breaks away and ushers her into the living room. I follow like the odd person out.

Elise introduces her to my uncle, who stands and bear hugs her in his booming and overpowering-but-silent way when she sticks out her hand to shake.

Maren doesn’t seem to mind when she’s practically picked up off her feet and giggles. “Locke was raised by two huggers.”

“I’m Phillip,” he laughs. “And of course, we’re going to hug you. We’ve been waiting to meet you all evening.”

I refrain from rolling my eyes. They didn’t even know she existed hours ago, but they’re already all in on their delusion.

When she’s back on the ground, she turns to Conrad. “Conrad, right?”

“It’s nice to officially meet you.” He waves a hand toward Blake and Emmie lying on the rug. “This is my wife, Blake, and our daughter, Emmie.”

I wonder how she feels in a room with my family, all eyes on her, but Maren doesn’t miss a beat as she plops herself on her stomach next to Blake and side hugs her.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Blake,” she gushes. Then she turns on a cooing baby voice for Emmie. “Look how cute you are.”

Emmie lifts her head in the direction of Maren’s voice and babbles, her pink cheeks shiny and blue eyes bright.

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