A decade.

God, my stomach clenches thinking he might not be with us that long. My dad and uncles think there’s a likelihood Scottie will be released from prison earlier than expected. They keep warning me that litigation will be hard, and if we fight for Ripley publicly, it’ll be harder.

I think they’re afraid of an outcome where we go to court for parental rights…and we lose. It’s possible, and it’d crush me.

Pizza goes down like a lump in my throat. I gulp more water. We just got done sightseeing and swimming, and my hair is still damp from the sea.

My whole family is around here, strolling up and down the cobblestone pathways and popping into the shops.

Hunger struck me and Farrow, so we dipped away to grab a bite.

He keeps his brown eyes on me. “How are the ribs today?” His voice is rough, deep but also silky soft.

I wipe my mouth with a cloth napkin. “Crushed into smithereens. I’m practically dusting circa Avengers: Infinity War.”

Farrow raises his brows. “I’m not even embarrassed that I got that reference, but that was a serious question.” His concern washes through me.

“They’re just sore.” I walked away from the fight with a few bruises and minor pavement burn after I stumbled once. Nothing that serious. I pick off black olives from another slice. “You know I’ve been thinking—”

“Your favorite thing to do.” His grin, the one I’m way too attracted to, steals my breath for a second. He reaches over and takes the olives I deserted, popping them in his mouth one by one. “Keep going,” he says between a bite.

I lick my dry lips. “You know the Hale Curse?”

Farrow blinks, almost annoyed. “If you’re going to say that what happened at the coves means you’re cursed—”

“I’m not,” I cut him off.

He looks me over, interested. “I’m listening.”

“It’s the exact opposite, actually.” I feel my smile rise. “And you’re probably going to think this is stupid, but I’ve been thinking how I could be walking down the aisle in four days with a busted lip and a black eye. Instead, I just have some bruising that no one can really see.” I take a deeper breath. “If there really was a Hale Curse, it would’ve been worse.”

Farrow smiles more. “Getting smarter.” He pinches his fingers close together. “By this much.”

I flip him off, and paparazzi shout questions that I tune out. Banks tells them firmly to stay back.

My phone buzzes in my pocket.

Send photos. Ghosts are having more fun than me right now. – Mom

This text can’t be from my mom. It sounds too much like Kinney, and I know my mom left her cell with the girls in case of emergencies.

My little sister and the younger girls have been grounded in Capri. They’re on lockdown at the villa without TV and internet.

And their wiped cellphones are forever collecting salt-water grime on a seaside cliff. The girls were bummed that I didn’t repel, but the more I’m around Farrow and Ripley, I’m glad I didn’t try.

Putting on a superhero cape for my cousins and siblings isn’t always what my heart wants to do, I’ve realized, and Farrow makes me feel less guilty for choosing to be the human me.

I reply back: miss you, Kinney. See you later

And then I check social media.

I’m trending.

Earlier today, paparazzi must’ve taken photos of me climbing shirtless out of the sea. Deep green and purple bruises along my ribs are noticeable. Public reaction is predictable. People speculate that I’m angry at Farrow, at my dad, at my uncle—picking any person they think most culpable.

It’s not real, and I don’t care about the rumors or lies.

I’m not confused about who I am. I understand my weird existence in this world, and it’s not worth the energy to try and control something that literally cannot be controlled. And I can’t control how you perceive me.

“What’s going on?” Farrow asks.

I slide my cell back into my pocket. “The normal bullshit. Paparazzi posted the photos of me in my swim trunks. Hashtag Maximoff Brawl is trending.” I’m more worried this’ll dig under Farrow’s skin. “You’re okay?”

After swallowing pizza crust, he says, “Man, I’m not looking at internet trolls. I’m fine.” His lip quirks in another bite of pizza, but the smile vanishes once his gaze diverts over my shoulder.

I swivel in my chair to follow his eyes.

Kaden Simmons is sitting on the edge of a rushing stone fountain, scrolling through his phone. I spot my dad in a nearby sandal shop with my mom.

“Hey,” Farrow says, tugging my attention back to him. “I’m thinking about going to talk to Kaden, but if it bothers you, I won’t.”

My stomach does a weird somersault, nosedive. “What do you have to say to that guy?”

“I just want to ask him a few questions.” Farrow swigs some water. “I know very little about him, other than a background check, and if he’s sticking around, for my own peace of mind, I just need to know more.”

Tags: Krista Ritchie Like Us Romance
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