Page 35 of Some Like It Fox

He shuts the door, blocking the noise. “You said you wouldn’t get angry.”

I cross my arms over my chest, my entire body going rigid with exasperation. “I never said anything.Yousaid not to get angry.”

He waves a hand. “Semantics.”

I groan, not sure whether to laugh or cry. “You are so annoying.”

He grins. “Good. Direct all your anger at me, and then maybe we’ll survive this dinner. Wanna punch me? Right here.” He points at his chin, ducking slightly to get into my eyeline.

I tap his face with my palm. “Yes, I do, but it doesn’t matter because there is no way in hell I am having dinner with her.”

He frowns. “We got Archie’s Pizza though.”

“So?”

“It’s your favorite.”

“I’ll take some to go. You can’t make me stay.” I want to stomp my foot like a toddler, but I restrain myself. Barely.

The side door swings open and Finley steps out. “Taylor, I was going to tell you.”

I prop a hand on my hip. “Tell me what? That you were setting me up?”

She shakes her head. “That’s not what happened.”

“You said she wouldn’t be here until next week.”

“I’m outta here.” Jake slips back inside.

Finley takes a few steps closer, her shoulders so tense they nearly hit her ears.

I get where she’s coming from, and it’s not Finley’s fault Mindy and I are fighting. She loves both of us, and she’s been stuck in the middle of this feud for years, a feud that never would have happened if Mindy hadn’t lashed out at me the way she did. But Finley should have warned me. I could have stayed at Veronica’s for dinner.

Finley reaches out, pulling me into a side hug. “She’s truly sorry. She’s trying.”

I don’t return the motion, my arms stiff at my sides. “Too little too late.”

She steps back to meet my eyes. “So you’re what,nevergoing to forgive her?”

My jaw clenches so hard I might break a tooth.

She doesn’t understand.

It’s easier to hold on to the anger than probe at the wound, and poke at the feelings the anger is masking.

Aria is dead, and it’s still my fault.

“I’ll forgive her if I want to, and when I’m ready, not when she or anyone else demands it. Not even you.”

She winces, her tone immediately apologetic. “Taylor—”

Gravel crunches behind me.

Atticus’s truck rolls to a stop next to the house, and Atticus’s large frame unfolds out of the driver’s seat.

“Hey.” He turns to grab a box from the passenger seat and ambles over. “Sorry I’m late. I grabbed the pie you asked for.” He glances between us, taking in my rigid stance and Finley’s strained features.

He’s wearing khaki shorts and a blue camp tee that outlines his broad shoulders and is just a little too tight on his biceps.

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