All of our heads turn as a girl outside shrieks bloody-murder, “MAKE LOVE TO ME, THATCHER MORETTI!”
It’s not so humorous. She can’t be older than a very young thirteen.
Thatcher is unflinching. He’s used to these impassioned declarations, but not directed his way. Yet, this hardly seems to bother him.
I frown a little—there is guilt knowing that I’ve traded the suitors who were only interested in me for crowds that are now obsessed with him and us.
We all look back at each other, and they spot my unease.
“They’re harmless.” Farrow lifts his aviators to his head, pushing back his platinum hair. “That girl isn’t going to force herself on Moretti. But the sick dipshits who think they have a shot with you…” He raises his brows.
“They’re threats,” Thatcher says curtly.
“True.” I tip my head towards Thatcher.
“And those potential stalkers are gone ,” Maximoff emphasizes to me, his strong arm across Farrow’s shoulders.
I want to mention that 35% still remain. Just to be more specific. None of these threats concern me because stalkers will always exist, and I trust our security team to handle them. But I can see that Maximoff wants me to feel safe. And I do, especially with Thatcher so close.
So I don’t mention the statistics.
Thatcher looks down at me, and as added reassurance, he says, “It’s better this way, Jane.”
“Maybe not for you,” I point out.
He shakes his head, his brows drawn together. “Eliminating anyone who wants to hurt you is the better path for me.”
He sounds incredibly sincere. I trust him. And I’m fortunate to have him. “That’s…” I grapple for words that tumble in my head. “You know, I…” I take a breath. “I like…”
You.
I clear my throat. “I like that you feel that way.”
Thatcher starts to smile. Really and truly, and then he threads our fingers, his hand so much larger than mine.
My pulse speeds, and I glance back at Maximoff and Farrow. “Have you two decided on a couple’s Halloween costume yet?” I know Moffy has been leaning towards a superhero pairing, but he’s also wanted to see what Farrow would choose.
“No,” Maximoff says. “Because Farrow is being an asshole and leaving this shit up to me.”
Farrow rolls his eyes into a wider smile, staring at Maximoff with such pure love. “You want me to hold your hand and walk you through this shit because I will, but only for you.”
Maximoff grimaces and smiles all at once. Trying to hide his affections. I give my best friend a weak 4 out of 10 this time, deductions for poor effort.
He’s suddenly more rigid, his forest-green eyes on me. “You and Thatcher are picking out couple costumes too, right? You haven’t said anything about it.”
“I don’t know if it’s up to me,” I say. “I’m assuming security will need to verify whatever we choose?” I look up at Thatcher for confirmation.
“I already asked,” Thatcher tells me, more than he speaks to Moffy. “The team agreed on no couple costumes.” His voice is strict, and his chest is tight like this isn’t news he wanted. But he has to obey.
Maximoff growls, “What, why?”
“Is there a reason?” I ask too, not expecting this kind of finality from security.
Thatcher lowers his voice. “They said it’s probable that our breakup will happen before Halloween.” His gaze softens a fraction on me.
That soon? October just began. My eyes grow in shock. “Wow.” I let go of his hand and tuck a flyaway frizzed hair behind my ear. “Well, I suppose this isn’t terrible…we have a clearer timeline to work with now.”
The bottom of my stomach has dropped, and I wish it’d float back to its proper anatomical position, please.
His chest concaves with a constricted breath, and he’s about to speak—but Maximoff beats him to it. “Just tell the team that Jane wants this to go past October.”
“I tried at the meeting,” Thatcher explains. “Farrow did too.”
My lungs swell, liking that they’re both on my side. Even if the outcome isn’t necessarily what I would’ve hoped for, and anyway, it was presumptuous to expect to spend Halloween with my fake boyfriend.
There was always going to be an end.
But we just started.
“They said probable , right?” Maximoff says, on edge. “So it’s not set in stone, and if you and Farrow really hammer in the fact that Jane wants this—”
“What I want and she wants doesn’t fucking matter,” Thatcher says tightly. “Our feelings aren’t important to security’s op. That’s just how it is.”
I’ve understood this part, but Maximoff is like my heart fighting for something deeper inside me that I can’t even unearth. I wonder if Banks were here, if he’d be fighting for something deeper inside Thatcher too.
Maximoff crosses his arms. “So security related: if this is a shotgun breakup, all the stalkers outside will just come back. Tell them that.”
“We did,” Thatcher says sternly. “The leads don’t want to risk more exposure to SFO. They think me being with Jane longer than necessary will draw too much attention to the rest of the team.”
SFO has already been in the public spotlight from the Hot Santa video, and some fans have paired us off and made creative ship names. Like Quinnivan is Quinn plus Sullivan.
But it’s been contained to one fandom realm of the internet. As Farrow would say, harmless. I can see how security would be concerned if that one realm mushroomed into popular public opinion.
Maximoff thinks hard. “Then Jane and I will talk directly to the Tri-Force. We’re the clients. They’ll have to listen to us.”
“Man, that’s not how that works,” Farrow says, his hand on the back of Maximoff’s neck in comfort. “We can’t have our clients running to our bosses because we want something.”
Thatcher nods once. “We can’t undermine the leads.”
They’d both lose a great deal of respect among security. “You don’t need to put pressure on the security team for this,” I state. “I’m not searching for longer or more.”
Thatcher tenses, looking me over in concern. He rakes his palm across his hardened jaw and then tries to hold my hand again. But I slip out of his fingers and browse through the costumes.
“We have a greater purpose. We’re here for the girls,” I remind all of them.
They know I’m referring to the Girl Squad: my sister Audrey, plus Winona Meadows, Kinney Hale, and Vada Abbey.
They each requested that their older sisters pick out their Halloween costumes this year, and since Vada is an only child, she asked Maximoff, her cousin, to do the honors.
The four girls said, “Surprise us.”
Luna and Sullivan already ordered costumes online for their little sisters—Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz for Kinney and Harley Quinn for Winona. Even if I fail miserably at this and choose something my thirteen-year-old sister despises, I know Audrey will pretend to love it.
Big sister duties are truly my favorite.
And yet, I can’t stop thinking about how abruptly this may all end between Thatcher and me. I have so many questions left to ask.
So much that I prolonged, and I wonder if our fake breakup will force us to return to a time where it’s uncomfortable, where we’re not speaking at all.
Timelines are necessary, I remind myself. You like structure, Jane.
I do, and I sift through more steampunk corsets and a few frocks.
I can feel all three sets of their eyes on my back.
And they’re tall.
Towering behind me.
“Really, I’m fine,” I say loudly.
Men. I love them dearly, but their concern comes so powerfully in my family and security. It could bowl you over, and while Luna, Sulli, and I are harassed more heavily and frequently, we were all raised by three extraordinary sisters who could summon hell and part seas together.
“Would vouching for you help?” Maximoff asks Thatcher behind me. “I won’t persuade the Tri-Force, but I can just tell them you’d never cross a line with Jane—”