Chapter 4
Settled in on Dan’s sofa, the three of them looked at each other: Verity, Lia, and Dan himself. The sofa, despite its beige blandness, provided impressive coziness; Dan had wandered out of his study, stared at them for a second, and then asked whether Lia wanted to borrow less coffee-baptized clothing.
Lia, now in a pair of Dan’s plaid pajama pants and an NYC Writers Workshop shirt that clung to her height and curves, had regarded this fashion descent with a sort of grim good humor. She’d left her briefcase by the sofa’s foot, where it sat in companionable support. She’d also taken down her hair and was currently braiding it into an infinite platinum river over one shoulder, as if needing something to do with her hands. Verity was having a hard time not watching every quicksilv
