sure knew what they were talking about. I didn’t know why I al owed myself to get so wrapped up with Bastin over the last week, but knowing that I would never see him hurt unlike anything I could have imagined. It was as if my ribcage had col apsed inside my chest, the jagged bones grinding into my heart like a nutcracker grinding into the meat of a pecan. Luckily, between classes, Morgan was more than eager to distract me from both my thoughts of heartbreak and Sir’s threats with talk about her parents’ dinner party—something I had dreaded but now looked forward to. A night away from Sir, my bedroom, and al reminders of Bastin, was exactly what I needed. That evening, Sir turned into Morgan’s subdivision at five before seven. He hadn’t spoken the entire trip. Mom, however, prattled on about her Apple Brown Betty and whether she should have baked a Bundt cake instead. “Mom,” I assured her from the backseat, “your Apple Brown Betty is the best in the world. They’l love it.”
