Chapter 8: Surly Romance: Chapter 8

Darkness chases the sunset, sending purple blushes over an orange-stained sky. The car is quiet. Micheal’s fighting to keep his eyes open, but Bailey’s already fast asleep.

I tap my fingers on the steering wheel, fighting back a yawn. My throat is hoarse from all the talking I did during Ms. Jean’s send-off. I need some chamomile tea and a twelve-hour nap. Stat.

The road blurs in front of me. I blink a couple times to maintain focus. Why do I feel so drained?

I’m not as resistant to social interactions as Alistair. My brother-in-law actively avoids shooting the breeze and finds small talk to be mindless. I’m no social butterfly, but I’m aware that social connection is good for the brain.

And I’m all about doing what’s good for the brain.

Still, everyone has their limits. Mine was reached somewhere between the DJ Ms. Jean hired and the third keg of beer that started the congo line.

It’s her funeral.

Literally.

Ms. Jean wanted people to celebrate but, I don’t know… there’s something that feels so empty about tonight’s rager.

The two little boys who really loved Ms. Jean and will miss her greatly didn’t get any benefits from experiencing that. The strangers who showed up today will drink her beer, dance in front of her pictures and then go on about their lives, not worrying about her or her family at all.

Maybe I’m overthinking it.

Okay, I’m definitely over-thinking it.

Which means I need a drink.

The farmhouse rises in sight. I chase away my dark thoughts and try to find a parking spot. There are at least five cars jammed into my driveway.

I recognize Dina’s truck and Sunny’s little car too. The sight of it sends a strange excitement down my spine. My exhaustion is replaced by thickening anticipation.

“We’re here?” Micheal asks, rubbing his eyes and lifting his hands over his head.

“Yeah, we’re home.” I know it’ll be a while before he calls this place ‘home’, but I hope he can do that eventually. “Wake your brother.”

“Bailey.” Micheal shakes his brother’s shoulder. “Bailey, get up.”

“What?” Bailey shoots to a sitting position so fast that his glasses nearly fly off. Blue eyes snap to the farmhouse and then brighten.

“Let’s go, buddy.” I pop my door open.

“We’re here!”

“Don’t be so loud,” Micheal scolds him.

“But Sunny has a surprise for us!” Bailey flails his legs and unleashes a giant smile.

I cringe inside. Earlier, Sunny didn’t seem too certain about her ‘surprise’. I hope she figured it out because Bailey has high expectations. I’m betting Micheal does too.

“Yoo-hoo!” A figure gestures to us. In the porch lights popping on one by one, I recognize Dina’s wrinkled face. She clutches a shawl around her scrawny shoulders and waves.

A car door slams.

Micheal and Bailey both scramble to stand next to me.

“Where’s Sunny?” His blue eyes dart back and forth as if his next breath depends on seeing her.

I didn’t realize how attached Bailey was to Sunny until the funeral. The way he reached for her nearly set my tears loose, and I’d been doing such a good job of keeping them restrained throughout the funeral.

“Sunny’s busy fixing up your rooms. She can’t come and see you right now.”

Bailey lowers his head and his glasses slide down his nose. He doesn’t bother pushing it back up. “Oh.”

Micheal sticks his hands into the pockets of his blazer. His eyes move to the house as if he can see Sunny in the distance.

“But,” Dina speaks in an extra-cheerful tone, “that doesn’t mean she forgot about your surprise.”

Bailey’s head whips up. “Really?”

“Follow me.”

I arch both eyebrows at Dina what is it?

She pushes out her bottom lip you’ll have to wait and see.

I sigh heavily. This is not the drink and power nap that I envisioned, but at least Bailey’s skipping happily and Micheal seems intrigued. It’s better than the alternative—Bailey in tears from missing his grandmother and Micheal bottling all his emotions inside until they explode.

Dina beckons with a wrinkled finger and leads us around the side of the house. I’m surprised we’re not going inside. I thought for sure that Sunny’s surprise would have been kitchen-related. She did promise us Belizean rice and beans, after all.

“Right this way.” Dina steps briskly past the garage.

I can hear hammers knocking on wood and metal ringing. What time is it? Shouldn’t the construction workers have gone home by now? And why are there so many of them?

I told Shanya to give Sunny all the support she needed, but I didn’t expect Sunny to go all out. It’s not because of the money. I can afford this and more. What I’m worried about is Sunny overtaxing herself.

The reason I went to Shanya in the first place was to keep Sunny from getting hurt. I could see her trying to drag heavy furniture and paint a full room by herself. She’s crazy stubborn like that and illogical ideas like working herself to the bone just to accomplish a task is a normal day for her. I didn’t want that to happen.

Maybe I should have been clearer when I told Shanya to give Sunny all the help she needed.

“This way, this way.” Dina moves her arms in a circle when I lag behind the group. “No peeping into the house, Darrel.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.” She gives me a you’re busted look.

Micheal smirks.

Great. Now the kids are laughing at me.

I clear my throat. “How much further are we supposed to go?”

“Not much farther.” Dina turns on a flashlight and points it at the ground as we enter the grove of trees surrounding the property. “Sunny didn’t want you to be too close to the house in case the noise disturbed you, but she wanted you close enough that you didn’t feel scared.” Dina bends down and taps Bailey’s nose. “Especially you, little one.”

“I’m not scared,” Bailey announces boldly.

As if to test him, an owl hoots overhead. Bailey shrieks and runs to me, hiding behind my legs.

Micheal bursts out laughing.

My lips arch up.

Dina chuckles. “That was very convincing, Bailey.”

“I-I did that on purpose.”

“Yeah, right.” Micheal snorts.

Bailey slants him a dark look.

“Hey, what’s that?” I point ahead so the boys don’t start fighting.

Bailey adjust his glasses with shaking fingers. Peering ahead, he bounces on the tips of his toes. “It’s a campfire.”

“Whoa,” Micheal says under his breath.

I shoot a stunned look at Dina. “When did Sunny have time to set up all this?”

“She ran back and forth like a madwoman.” Dina chuckles fondly. “Kenya came to help. I pitched in too.” Dina nods proudly to the giant orange tent. “I read the instructions while the younger ladies fumbled around trying to set that up.”

I chuckle. “You worked hard.”

“Thank you.” She dips her head.

The boys descend on the camp site like rabid wolves.

“There’s chocolate and graham crackers and marshmallows!” Bailey howls, tilting his head back and letting the snacks rain down on him like dollar bills.

“What’s with the white sheet?” Micheal points to stilts that are holding a white canvas between them.

“Oh that?” Dina weaves around the campfire, drawing our eyes to a table with a laptop. When she taps the device, an image appears on the sheet. “It’s a projector screen. It’s hooked up to this laptop. You can watch whatever movie you want.”

“Cool.” Micheal smirks.

Tween approval achieved.

Impressive.

Dina waddles around the campfire and returns to my side. “Can we talk for a second?”

“Sure.” I turn to Bailey. “Hey, don’t get too close to that fire, Bailey.”

“I won’t!” he calls back in a sweet voice.

“Micheal, you choose the movie. We’ll watch whatever you want.”

“Batman,” he says without hesitation.

I smirk. “I guess we’re watching Batman.”

“He always wants to watch Batman,” Bailey whines.

I jog away from their sibling squabble. When we’re out of earshot, I look expectantly at Dina, but she doesn’t speak to me immediately. Instead, she gazes at the boys with an affectionate smile. “They sure do liven up the place, don’t they?”

“They’re… good kids.”

“The best kids.”

“And they had a good dad.”

She nods. “I know they did.”

“Professor Stein gave his all to his family.” A pensive frown crosses my face. “He just… knew how to make a person feel accepted. I don’t know how he did it.”

“It’s not a magic trick. You don’t have to be born with some special gene to be a good father, Darrel.”

My chest tightens. Studies show that sons are more likely to turn into their fathers and daughters are more likely to marry a man like their father. If that’s true, there’s no hope for me.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Dina sticks a finger in my face. “And you’re wrong.”

“The brain can only record and imitate what’s in front of it.”

“Professor Stein wasn’t your biological dad, but he was a father to you. Imitate that.” She squeezes my shoulder.

I’ll give it my everything.

But what if it’s not enough?

I push that thought away.

It comes barreling back. What if you’re just like the Major. What if you turn into the kind of man those kids want to run away from?

Dina studies me and speaks in a low voice. “Are you okay?”

“I’m not used to people asking me that question.”

“Just because you help others for a living doesn’t mean you don’t need help sometimes.”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I shuffle in discomfort.

“You attended a funeral today. It must have brought flashbacks of Claire.”

I glance at her in surprise. “It… didn’t.”

“No?”

I rub my forehead, stunned to realize it. “Should I be concerned?”

Dina laughs.

“Attending Ms. Jean’s funeral should have triggered a memory.”

“But it didn’t.”

“No, it didn’t.”

A serene smile crosses her face. “Darrel, step back into your therapist-skin for a moment and assess yourself the way you’d assess a patient. Why do you think you were able to get through the day without breaking down with guilt?”

“Because I’m healing.”

“And why are you healing?”

I glance at the boys. Micheal is helping his brother with the s’mores. Bailey hands him marshmallows and Micheal spears them on the stick.

“It might not be because of them. I took care of Alistair and Belle back then too.”

“It wasn’t the same. Back then, you were still raw with grief. You were still mourning. You intentionally used Alistair and Belle to hide from your own pain.”

I hate when Dina has a point.

“This time, it was intentional. You genuinely cared more about the boys and how they were holding up. You were so focused on them, on the present, that you had no time to get lost in the past.”

I frown at her. “Is this what it feels like to be analyzed? Maybe I should find another job.”

“Very funny.” She slaps my arm. “I’m proud of you, Darrel.” Her eyes slide to the boys around the campfire. “And I think taking these boys in was one of the best decisions you’ve ever made.”

I grunt.

Dina pats my back again and turns to leave.

I stop her with a hand. “Where are you going?”

“Home.”

“Join us.”

“Me?”

I shrug. “There’s way more s’mores than we can eat.”

“I’d love to.” Her eyelashes bounce.

I stick a hand into my pocket. “What about Sunny? Maybe she’d like to stop in too.”

“Oh, I see.”

“You see what?”

She shakes her head. The smirk on her face is knowing, but in that annoying way. Like she sees something I don’t. “Sunny’s too busy to hang out right now, but I’ll be her stand-in.” Dina strides past me and pushes her sleeves up. “Make room, boys. Do you want to try the best s’mores in the history of the world?”

“Yeah!” Bailey bobs his head.

Micheal’s eyes glitter in the firelight.

Before joining them, I turn and slant a longing look back at the house. I hope Sunny isn’t overdoing it. And I hope, sometime during the night, she can pop in so I can see her face.

The boys would love it.

They’d…

Who am I kidding?

I’d love to see her, be it for a couple minutes or even just a second.

Unfortunately, Sunny doesn’t show up during dinner.

She doesn’t show up for a marathon of every Christopher Nolan Batman flick that Micheal can find.

And she doesn’t show when the boys conk out on the blankets, forcing me to carry them into the tent.

“Sleep tight,” I whisper, running my hand over Bailey’s hair. He nuzzles deeper under the blanket, his feet pulled up to his chest and his nose flaring with each breath.

Noticing that he’s still wearing his glasses, I wiggle them off his face and set them aside so he won’t accidentally crush them in his sleep.

I turn to Micheal next. He looks a lot less burdened when he’s in deep sleep. His face is smooth and free of those pensive frowns.

“You too, buddy.” I touch his head lightly.

Micheal snorts in his sleep, drawing out my smile.

“As long as I’m breathing, I’m going to take care of both of you,” I whisper.

It’s a promise.

Not to their dad.

Not to their grandma.

This time, I’m making a commitment to them.

Easing out of the tent, I stop short when I see Dina standing near the campfire. Her eyes cut through me. She opens her mouth as if she’ll say something, but she stops herself and shakes her head instead.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s getting late. You want me to walk you to your car?”

“Actually, I was thinking I’d hang out by the fire a bit more.” She moves to the blanket and sits gingerly. Stretching her legs out in front of her, she wiggles her feet. “Just in case you wanted to head inside the house or something.”

“I’m okay.” I walk to the blanket.

She stops me by throwing her arms out. “Wait.”

I freeze.

“You know what I would like? My jacket.”

“Where is it?”

“It just so happens to be wherever Sunny is.”

My eyebrows pinch. I try to make sense of her words. “Huh?”

“My jacket, Darrel. It’s cold.”

“Here.” I shrug out of my suit jacket. While the boys were ecstatic to tear off their funeral clothes and change into the pajamas Sunny and Kenya bought for them, I was less than inclined to walk around wearing monkey-print.

“No. I want my jacket, Darrel. Mine.”

“You don’t even know where it is,” I point out, mildly frustrated.

“Sunny will know.” Her stare is pointed.

At last, a lightbulb goes off.

Licking my lips, I pretend that I’m still clueless and speak brusquely. “If you insist.”

Dina laughs. I’d normally scold her for playing matchmaker but, this time, I really don’t mind.

“Watch the boys for me,” I say, hooking a thumb at the tent. “Bailey tends to get up in the night to use the bathroom. And Micheal doesn’t like the dark.” He won’t ever admit it because he’s eleven going on seventy-five, but I’ve seen him crack the door open so he can catch the hall light on multiple occasions.

“I’ll take care of the boys, Darrel.” She waves me off and pulls a blanket over her knees.

I trot through the forest, jogging past the foliage and ducking over low hanging-branches. My dress shoes crunch dry leaves and twigs as I get closer to the house. The sound of rumbling truck engines nearly stops me in my tracks.

Is Sunny leaving already? I listen keenly. That deep, guttural engine isn’t from her truck. Hurrying closer to the house, I notice the construction workers moving off.

I glance at my phone in shock. It’s the wee hours of the morning. I thought the workers left in the middle of our first Batman movie.

The trucks disappear down the road in a plume of exhaust. A lone figure remains on the porch steps. She’s bracketed by the lights from the house. Golden bulbs throw a soft glow on her shiny black hair, brown skin, and long, long legs.

Sunny turns on her heels and, for some ridiculous reason, I duck into the shadows to watch her. She raises graceful arms over her head and stretches. The move causes her T-shirt to rise and reveal a stretch of her toned stomach.

My heart thumps harder. Despite the sinking feeling in my gut that spying on her is a terrible idea, I devote myself to it and step lightly around the house.

You’re an idiot.

Rational brain has a point.

Just walk up to her and ask for Dina’s jacket.

Fuzzy, Sunny Quetzal-obsessed brain has other opinions.

You know why Dina sent us to the house. It wasn’t for a stupid jacket.

And now I’m arguing with myself.

Maybe Dina had a point. I should get professional help.

Sunny disappears inside while I stand in the shadows, deliberating whether I have the guts to go in there and talk to someone who shouldn’t be causing me this much agony but pulls it off with flying colors.

After a deep breath, I rise to my full height and march up the stairs. The door is locked, but I easily fish my key out of my pocket and let myself in.

“Sunny,” I call softly.

Nothing.

I clear my throat because I’m not a coward and bark out her name. “Sunny.”

No response.

I step into the living room, cringing at the mess of boot prints, tools and the sofa that’s been shoved all the way into the corner so it doesn’t block the door.

Don’t look at it, Darrel. Don’t look. I corral my need for order and cleanliness, focusing on the search for Sunny instead.

“Sunny?” I bound up the staircase, scowling at the buckets of paint and plastic hanging from the doorways.

The dust lingering in the air makes me cough. Should have brought a face mask before I stepped in here.

As I pass Bailey’s bedroom, I notice paint on the walls and furniture already set up. I resist the urge to peek at the work that’s been done.

Sunny first.

Then snooping.

Something thumps in Micheal’s room. I hurry there and stop abruptly when I see Sunny Quetzal lying on the floor, her ponytail inches away from a flat container that still holds a bit of paint.

“Sunny?” I rush to her side. My heart is galloping at such a wild pace, I’m afraid it’ll shut down soon.

When I reach out to roll her on her back, Sunny flings an arm out and wraps it around my leg. “Black ceilings are cool. He’ll love them.”

I blink rapidly.

She releases my leg and rolls the other way, mumbling unintelligible words in her sleep.

I rest my arm on my bended knee and let out a relieved laugh. Only Sunny Quetzal would fall asleep on the ground as if it were a regular Tuesday.

“Sunny.” I shake her arms. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

“No.” Her words are slurred like she’s been drinking. I’m not surprised. Lack of sleep does similar things to the brain as drinking alcohol. It’s a proven study and it’s the suspected cause of Claire and Alistair’s accident, so I know just how powerful exhaustion can be.

“Sunny,” I keep my tone gentle but firm, “even if you don’t want to go home, you can’t sleep on the floor.”

Sunny pries her eyes open. And then she smiles. It’s a brilliant, crinkly-at-the-corner-of-her-cat-eyes kind of smile. The moment she flashes it at me, I’m reminded of how I fell for her at first sight.

“I need to finish this room,” she blubbers, jutting a dark finger. “I have to work.”

“Sh. Sh. No, you don’t have to work. You have to sleep.”

Her head bobs around like there’s a spring loose. “Have to.”

“Sunny.”

Her palms connect with my chest and she shoves me away.

I stumble back, my mouth going round. This woman.

“You’re just like Darrel.” Her eyes are at half-mast and her hair is sticking up all over her head as if she just had a dangerous encounter with an electrical current. “You’re annoying.”

She’s the annoying one.

Does everything have to be difficult with you, Sunny?

I let out a frustrated breath and approach her again. If she’s not going to be coaxed to move, I’ll just have to be a little more forceful.

“He thinks he’s so perfect.” Sunny sticks out her tongue. “Just because he’s smart and hot.”

Hot? That stops me in my tracks.

“So tired.” She falls backward slowly, her eyes fluttering closed.

“Whoa.” I spring toward her, wrapping my hands around her waist to keep her from smashing her head on the floor.

My panicked grab for her body wakes her up again. I stare into her face, my eyes wide.

She laughs and points.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“Darrel.”

“What?”

“I’m going to finish everything and be out of your hair.”

I sigh so hard the world probably shifts a little off its axis. “No one is rushing you, Sunny. You can take your time.”

“I can do it!” She smacks me with her fist. It barely makes an impact.

I see that arrogance of hers is alive and well. Some things never change. Sunny and cocky go hand in hand. Her frontal lobe is wired that way. She has no experience hearing the word no. What else can I expect from a woman who was adored by teachers, students, and parents alike for years? I’d have a big ego too if I were in her shoes.

“That’s enough. I’m taking you to bed.” I scoop her up by the knees and carry her bridal style. She starts to sink and I bounce her gently in my arms so I can get a proper grip.

Her fingers tighten around my shirt. “Bed?”

“Mm-hm.” I kick the door of Micheal’s room open and turn sideways so I can crab-walk out without slamming her head on the doorknob.

She nuzzles her cheek against my chest. I slide a glance at her. She’s warm and soft in my arms. The T-shirt she’s wearing is spattered with paint and so is her face. It doesn’t do a damn thing to make her any less beautiful. In fact, she’s even more attractive when she’s asleep and not mouthing off at me.

I wonder if she’d let me tuck her into bed tomorrow too. Then I give myself a mental head slap. It’s bad enough that Micheal connects with Sunny. And Bailey loves her more than marshmallow ice cream. She’s also Alistair’s future sister-in-law and Belle’s new aunt. Sure, she might not be related to Kenya by blood but what the hell does that matter? She’s every bit Kenya’s sister as Claire was mine.

Getting involved with Sunny would be too problematic. I can’t risk any more complications when my life is so chaotic.

Sunny’s eyes flutter open when I set her on top of my covers. I wouldn’t put her here if there was anywhere else to go, but the boys’ rooms are under construction. Plus, I just changed these sheets. Once I hide all my high school photo albums and the John Hearst Yearbook, there shouldn’t be anything to worry about.

“Darrel.” Sunny smiles.

Dammit.

I can keep my crazy brain away most of the time, but not tonight, and not if she levels that smile at me.

Afraid I’ll do something irrational and illegal—like kiss her until she wakes up properly—I push away from her tempting gaze. Push away from the bed. Push away from Sunny Quetzal.

Except I don’t get far.

Sunny’s arms wrap around my neck and tighten, halting my progress.

I jolt back toward her, a gush of surprise tearing out of my lips. She yanks me down again. To keep from squashing her, I shove my hands down into the mattress on either side of her body.

“This isn’t how the dream is supposed to go,” she whispers, her eyes still at half-mast and her words sloppy.

My eyes nearly pop out of my face when she scrambles for the buttons of my shirt. She’s still in that half-awake, half-delirious space, so she’s not getting a single button to loosen. But I recognize her intent.

“You’re supposed to be… naked,” she croaks.

I feel an electric jolt. My nucleus accumbens sends such a strong signal down south that my pants tighten on impact.

Sunny Quetzal, don’t you dare torture me like that.

“You’re supposed to be…” She flops back into the bed, but she’s still hooked around my neck and she drags me there with her. “Mm.” The crazy, infuriatingly beautiful woman fuses her body to mine as if she doesn’t know what she’s stirring up.

Sunny Quetzal has imagined me naked.

Sunny Quetzal dreams about me.

Sunny Quetzal is in bed with me.

These thoughts shoot rapid fire through a mind that’s quickly being overtaken by non-rational instincts.

I’m out of my depth here. Logical thought functions on a higher plain. A different plain. And yet, with one tug of her perfect body, Sunny Quetzal is turning me into an animal.

She’s not fully awake. Her brain is malfunctioning due to lack of rest. Her inhibitions are low because the symptoms of exhaustion are similar to the symptoms of being drunk.

“Sunny.” I wrap my fingers around her wrist to pry her off.

That’s when I feel soft lips press into my chest. It’s a kiss that travels past my outer shirt, the vest under it, and the skin covering my ribs to make it all the way to my crazily beating heart.

I shoot her a shocked look. One by one, all the reasons I shouldn’t get involved with her turn into ash.

Damn, I still like this woman.

And not the childish, starry-eyed puppy love I was hit with in high school when I saw the pretty girl walking by.

I’m talking something bigger and deeper that scares the crap out of me because it would require carving space out of my rational life to make room for her impulsive, off-the-wall, spontaneous kind of living. It would mean being illogical and liking it and thriving in it because Sunny Quetzal won’t let me breathe.

I should have known this would happen from the moment I met her again in the furniture store last year. I should have known when I saw her looking out for Kenya like they were sworn-sisters. I should have known when she changed her mind about decorating the boys’ rooms just because it would help me keep them. I should have known from the way she comforted Micheal and made Bailey laugh with glee on the day he felt the most fear and uncertainty.

She won’t let me breathe.

“Sunny,” I whisper.

“You never smile at me,” she murmurs.

Hell. My body is hot all over and I could shove her hands away since I’m bigger and stronger than her, but that would wake her up and embarrass her and eliminate any other BS excuse I can find to make staying right here snuggled up with Sunny Quetzal okay.

“Smile at me, Darrel.”

“If I smile at you, you’ll just find your way into my heart again,” I admit. Not that growling and quarreling and ignoring her did anything to stop that from happening.

She pats my chest and frowns. “What kind of dream is this?”

“It’s not a dream.”

“You’re still not naked.”

I almost choke on a laugh. “What kind of raunchy dreams have you been having about me?”

She smiles and I want to kiss her so badly that the veins under my skin begin to burn. And why the hell would I stop at a kiss? I need to feel the heat of her skin. Need to see the contrast of her dark to my light when I pull her into me. I need to stroke her face and her chest and embrace those willowy curves. Need to taste her in all the ways that’ll make her moan and soak in the feeling of being irrational and stupid and crazy because I only get the urge to be those things with her.

I know it’s a bad idea, but it’s hard to care when she eases up and throws one leg over me like I’m a body pillow after a back injury.

She’s smothering me. Crowding me in with her Caribbean-breeze scent and her long, silky hair that nearly drips off the bed and her thick eyelashes that can’t seem to stay still because she’s opening her eyes and sliding them shut constantly.

I’ve been avoiding thinking about Sunny Quetzal in any part of my future because, on paper, she doesn’t fit. She never has. I won’t even bring up our past, and how much that past shaped the way I approached women for years going forward.

She’s bad for me.

For my sanity.

I’m not the kind of man who’ll jump into a relationship without serious thought about compatibility in values and personality, but if it’s Sunny Quetzal…

“Naked.” She pats my chest again.

I smile. Then I dip my head. Angle in. Watch her body tense over mine as if she can sense what I’m about to do.

Closing my eyes, I brush my lips over her temple.

She blinks, makes another unintelligible sound and squeezes me even tighter.

“You’re going to drive me crazy, aren’t you?” I murmur into her hair.

“Mm-hm.” She nods sleepily.

I smile down at her face.

Hey, at least she’s honest.