“Rich Williams. He and his wife own Devine Bakery. He’s basically my de facto grandfather.”
“I have my uncle.” I held my palm out for the darts. Neo gave them to me. “My mother’s brother. He’s an architect in Pennsylvania. We always stayed close, no matter where my mom was moving us next. He and his family live in the house where my uncle and mom were raised. Always told me there was a place there for me. Now that I think about it, maybe it’s time for a visit.”
“Your uncle sounds like a great guy,” Cos said. “Maybe thanks to him, that drawer isn’t so scary.”
“I think you’re right.” I expelled a breath, feeling oddly better despite the brevity of our conversation. “But that’s enough drawer talk for the night. Someone please tell me what’s going on here. I don’t know a thing about darts.”
“Come on,” Cos said, walking back to the dartboard. Thayle asked Neo what was in his drawer she didn’t know about, to which he responded, “Nothing. You know everything about me.”
As the two of them argued the point, Thayle saying there must be things she didn’t know, Cosimo stood behind me.
“You know how to hold it,” he said of the dart. “That’s a good start.”
“But every time I throw one, it goes flying across the room.”
“Stand with your feet hip-width apart. You should be facing sideways, but that’s okay if this feels more comfortable.” Cosimo slid in closer. Too close. He grabbed my arm as if to guide me. His breath tickled my right ear, the lover’s caress I hadn’t asked for but wanted desperately.
“In three-oh-one, the goal is to get down to zero. So you want to hit high numbers.” He pulled my arm back, his hand covering mine. “Don’t grip the dart so tightly that your fingers turn white. Darts is a game of touch rather than force.” His voice lowered for only me to hear. “You want it just tight enough that you can maintain control.”
I couldn’t breathe. If Thayle and Neo were looking at us right now, we were toast.
“Okay,” I croaked out. “Now what?”
“Keep the dart at eye level. Your shoulder, elbow, and hand should all be aligned, forming a ninety-degree angle, like this.” His voice was like silk in my ear. I imagined him kissing it, kissing my neck.
“Okay.”
“Tilt the tip slightly upwards.”
“Cos,” I whispered, “you’re killing me.”
“Good,” he whispered back. Then louder, “Use your dominant eye to focus. We’re aiming for the bullseye. You’re going to pull it back, like this,” he said, demonstrating, “and then snap your wrist as you release forward. Got it?”
He stepped back. I resisted the urge to tell him that, no, I didn’t have it. Because if he did that ever again, I was going to throw myself at him rather than the dart at the board. Instead, I nodded. Did as he said. And hit the twenty.
“I missed the bullseye,” I said, looking at him.
“Maybe,” he said, “but you hit the board. And twenty too.”
“Now what?” I asked, wondering if I went again or if it was someone else’s turn. I hadn’t really been paying attention to the game.
“That really is the question, isn’t it?”
CHAPTERTWENTY
cosimo
“Penny for your thoughts?”
Neo was an early riser, like me, even after a late night. We got home after two a.m., but like clockwork, I was up at six-thirty this morning. He sat next to me, coffee in hand. I loved this time of day on the lake. It was quiet, the water like glass.
“I was just thinking about taking the day off.”
“Taking the...” Neo looked at me like I’d expect after such a statement. I didn’t take days off, ever. He and Min complained about it, saying I was too much like Dad in that respect, and they never meant it in a good way. “Are you sick? Dying? Talk to me.”
“Neither. But what good is this”—I waved my arms toward the lake—“if we don’t ever enjoy it?”
“As if I haven’t said that a million times before.”