“I know what people think when they look at her and then look at me. I’m not stupid.”
My chest tightened.
“Tobin—”
“But maybe, for once, somebody just wants me there.”
I had no answer.
So I walked over, kissed the top of his head, and told him I hoped he had the best night of his life.
Prom night arrived on a warm Saturday in May.
Celeste pulled into our driveway at seven.
She was wearing a pale gold dress, simple but beautiful, and her hair fell loosely over one shoulder.
When Tobin opened the door, she smiled at him in a way that seemed completely genuine.
Still, I watched everything.
How she spoke to him.
Whether she looked toward anyone hiding in the car.
Whether she exchanged some secret glance with a friend.
