Page 121 of False God

“Wow,” I say. “Congrats, Dad.”

Bash and Kit chime in, echoing the sentiment.

It’s not until I’m in the kitchen after dinner, pulling ice cream out of the freezer, that I have the chance to ask Kit, “You good?”

He was quiet during dinner, barely chiming in as I relayed a—selective—retelling of my trip to Wales and Saint-Tropez. No mention of Charlie or my trip to a British emergency room. Bash talked about his summer internship and upcoming fishing trip to Alaska with some college buddies. Nothing from Kit.

“Yeah,” he replies, grabbing the carton from me and a spoon from the drawer and stealing a bite of mint chip.

I glance toward the doorway, making sure we’re still alone, then lower my voice. “You sure? You seem … off.”

“I’m just adjusting to being back in the city, getting resettled.”

“Is this about Dad working at Kensington Consolidated?”

Kit blows out a long breath, then drops his spoon in the sink. “You were smart to choose something different,” he tells me.

“No. I was too dumb to have a Kensington Consolidated–worthy GPA.” I take a big bite of ice cream.

Kit frowns, then flicks my shoulder. “Don’t talk about yourself like that. The only person allowed to call you dumb is me—when you buy shoes that look the same as the five million other pairs you already own.”

I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling. “You’re going to kick ass at the company, Kit. All that’s changed is, Dad will be there to see it in person.”

“Thanks, Lili.”

We smile at each other, and then Kit ruins the sweet moment by informing me I have chocolate on my chin.

I clean it off, scoop most of the container into a bowl, and then head back out onto the private patio. Mom is lying on one of the reclining lounge chairs, scrolling on her phone.

I assume it’s work, until she flashes me a photo of a yellow Lab.

“What do you think?” she asks. “He’s adorable, right?”

“You’re getting a dog?”

Ever since Teddy, our family’s golden retriever, died, Mom has insisted no dog could ever replace him.

“Your father and I have talked about it.”

Mom smiles suddenly.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing. I just … didn’t really ask him about Teddy before I adopted him. Funny to think about how things change, is all.”

“Are you getting a dog because you’re moving back to New York?”

Mom sets down her phone and reaches for the bowl of ice cream I brought out. “That’s part of it, I suppose. This feels like a new chapter, being back in New York full-time. The last time we lived here permanently, we were just starting our family. I want to put down some more roots. And … I’m planning to step down as editor in chief atHautenext year.”

“You are?”

She nods. “It’s time.”

“Wow. That’s big.”

My mom bought her fashion magazine when she was younger than me. She’s worked there for longer than I’ve been alive.

“It is,” she agrees. “It’s been an amazing experience, but it has to end sometime. I want to focus on new adventures. Take a vacation without rescheduling multiple times. Get a dog. Do you think they’ll have room for him or her as a patient at Hallsen Veterinary Clinic?”

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