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no!” Marianne looked up at the clouds in agony. She was such a moron.

“Hey,” laughed Patrick. “I’m just kidding. I totally understand what you’re failing to say.”

“Thank you.” Marianne pouted at him and shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

He smiled at her. “What’s your name?”

“Marianne York,” she mumbled.

He leaned forward to hear her better. “Marian?”

“Mary-Anne.” She stressed the two syllables.

“I’m Patrick Devlin.” He stepped up to her and extended his hand. His forearms were covered in green and black ink all the way down to the wrists. “It’s nice to meet you, Marianne.”

She shook his hand. “You don’t have to lie.”

“Well, then—” He gave her another half-smile. “It was very interesting to meet you, Marianne.”

That was more like it. Marianne dropped his hand and stepped away. “I should let you get back to work, now.” She didn’t wait for him to respond, but just turned and walked back into the house as quickly as she could. So much for the awesome plan.

Marianne’s principal goal in life, where gorgeous men were concerned, was to go completely unnoticed. She wanted nothing more than to just crawl into her little crevice in the wall of life and admire quietly. FAIL. She hadn’t only drawn attention to herself—she’d done it with a vengeance. Like an old school circus. She was like the Elephant Man or the Bearded Lady. No, not quite; they got paid. Marianne found Danielle in the living room, changing Monkey Baby’s diaper on the floor.

“Lemme guess,” said Danielle. “You cried, right?”

How rude. “I was only out there for a few minutes.”

“That’s plenty of time for you to get worked up.”

“Go away and clean something,” snapped Marianne. “I’ll watch the baby.”

Danielle stood up. “It went that bad, huh?”

“Stop trying to get it out of me—then I really will cry.” Marianne picked up Monkey and walked away into the kitchen.

Danielle followed her. “You brought up your ass again, didn’t you?” She poked Marianne in the back. “Didn’t you?”

“Yesss,” said Marianne through her teeth. She put the baby down on the floor and he waddled away at top speed.

“You’re a moron.” Danielle tossed the diaper in the trash and crossed her arms. “I hope you at least told him to kiss it next time. That’s what I would have done.”

“Nope-p,” said Marianne, popping the P sound. She turned toward Danielle and exhaled. “You want the confession? Here you go. First, I told him he was gross. Then I told him that, actually, he wasn’t gross and that he could touch my ass whenever he wanted. Then I took that back and told him he had to ask permission first.” Marianne spread her arms out. “Ta-da!”

“Did I say that you’re a moron? I should have said, total dumbass.”

So true. Marianne stuck out her cheek with her tongue and nodded.

Danielle turned and walked out of the room. “Be right back.”

Marianne got out some paper plates for the kids’ dinner and carefully laid out her new life plan. Vow of Silence. Time frame: As long as it took to gain back her self-respect. She was absolutely committed to never speaking again, especially to Patrick Devlin.

Danielle came back into the room as Marianne was pulling the cookie sheet out of the oven. “You’re welcome,” said Danielle.

Marianne froze, holding the sheet in midair. Oh, no. Danielle must have gone to talk to her brother. Oh, no. The pan was burning her through the potholder. Oh, no. Danielle could absolutely not be trusted. Whatever she had done was bad; Marianne could feel it. She tossed the burning pan on the stove. “What did you say to him?”

“The truth.” Danielle smiled sweetly, an uncommon look for her. “I fixed it for you.”

“The truth,” shouted Marianne. “How could you? What did you tell him? Exactly.”

Danielle looked taken aback by Marianne’s anger. It must have been impressive; nothing ever fazed Danielle. “I told him you were just nervous, and that you’re actually a really cool girl.”

Marianne chucked the potholder on the counter and advanced on Danielle. She stuck her finger in her face. “What reason did you give for my nervousness?”

Danielle bit both of her lips in her teeth for a second. “Um... the real one?”

“What is wrong with you?” Marianne put her hands on top of her head. “Why can’t you just stick to the story? Do you want me to kill myself?”

Danielle stared at her in confusion. “What was our story again?”

Marianne spoke slowly, enunciating every word. “That I was nervous because he grabbed my ass.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Danielle, looking away. “That’s what I told him.”

“You. Lie. Like. A. Fly.”

Danielle wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, I do.”

Marianne leaned back against the cabinets and slid down to sit on the tile. If she ever got over this day, it would be an act of God.

“Come on, stupid,” Danielle put her hands on her hips, “it’s not like he didn’t know already.”

Marianne sobbed and put her hand over her forehead. Her eyes were totally dry, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t weeping on the inside, anyway.

“So Patrick knows that you like him. What’s the big deal?”

Marianne glared up at her. “I don’t like him. I don’t even know him.”

Danielle coughed. “Nice try.”

“And!” said Marianne. “Now he feels sorry for me. I’m not just some crackpot, anymore. Now I’m a pathetic, fangirl loser.”

“Oh, stop whining.” Danielle grabbed a spatula out of the drawer and leaned back against the counter.

“You’re a horrible person,” said Marianne from the floor. “I don’t know why I hang around—”

Danielle interrupted Marianne with a hard look. “Stop whining, Marianne.”

“Psh.” Marianne ignored her and kept ranting. “I’m serious. You’re like death. Slow, snarky death. If I ever actually do jump in front of a train one of these days, you can know that it’s because—”

“Shut up, Marianne,” said Danielle, pointing to the doorway.

Marianne whipped her head around to find Patrick watching them wide-eyed from the doorway. “Crap,” she breathed.

Patrick grimaced and took a step back. “Am I interrupting?”

“This one is not my fault,” said Danielle.

Marianne crawled quickly to her feet.

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