Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her. There was a lapse of time, an interval of blackness; then he found his hand in hers and she was leading him at a run up the side of the mountain. Every inch of the house felt safe to her, small and welcoming. When I realized that she was a liar and a mean bitch I broke it off with her for good. “Your father,” he said, “remarked that all’s well that ends well, and that he was disposed to let bygones be bygones. “If it’s about that dance project,” he said, “it’s no good, Veronica. If I do not look after her, she has no one.
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