Free The Ruining by Anna Collomore

me that Libby hadn’t so much as glanced as Zoe’s skin yet, but I guessed she would once we packed up and got into the car. Besides, the burn hadn’t fully manifested itself. It probably would be much brighter and more painful by evening.
I settled on the opposite end of the blanket and pulled Zoe into my lap, reading to her from my book. I glanced over after a minute, and it appeared that Walker was apologizing profusely. Finally, he reached over and squeezed Libby’s hand,
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    and she offered him a kiss on the cheek. I couldn’t help feeling grateful that Walker had absorbed the brunt of her anger. “How’s my butterbean?” he asked as he approached.
“Good, Daddy, Annie’s weading me a stowy.”
“Is that so?” He glanced down at the book in my hand. “The Pit and the Pendulum?” he asked. “Don’t you think she’s a little young for that?”
“I was giving her the abridged, G-rated version,” I said. “I’m really sorry about the sunscreen. I should have thought of it.”
Walker sighed. “You probably should have,” he agreed. “But so should I. And so should Libby,” he added. “I don’t know why she’d do Jack’s sunscreen and not Zoe’s.”
“Zoe is Annie’s responsibility, Walker,” Libby called. “And by the way, I can hear you.”
“Have I told you how gorgeous my wife is?” Walker asked, reacting quickly. “I’d say she’s the most beautiful woman on the planet, really, if I had to put money on it. . . .”
“Oh please,” Libby said. “Nice try. Come on, let’s pack up and get out of here. We can eat our lunch by the pool at home, like civilized people.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Walker agreed. “Come on, troops. You heard the woman. Let’s load up.”
“You know I hate it when you call me ‘woman,’ Walk.”
“Noted.” But he was smiling again. They both were. I clasped Zoe’s hand in mine, and we headed for the car, a beach bag slung over my shoulder and Falafel, none the worse for wear, cradled under her chin.

Chapter six
    OwEN’s FACE LIT up wHEN HE— thankfully not one of his parents—answered the door. It had nearly killed me not to visit him sooner, but I wanted to show Libby where my priorities lay (with them) and refute her suspicion (that I had a crush on Owen) even if it was true (it was). But now it was Sunday, my day off, and I could spend it however I wanted.
    “You either have the world’s worst manners, or it took you a hell of a long time to recover from your fall.” His face broke into the cutest closed-lipped smile I’d ever seen on a guy. A toothpick hung out of one corner of his mouth, and he was a little sweaty, but not unattractively so. Quite the opposite. I’d caught him unawares, and yet he looked even better than the last time I’d seen him. I sighed inwardly. It wasn’t fair—I’d spent a half hour selecting the perfect outfit from my meager wardrobe, a balance between subtly alluring and effortlessly casual. And the perfect makeup: lip gloss and a swipe of mascara.
    “Actually, I happen to be the epitome of mannerly,” I informed him, trying to sound both cuter and more confident than I felt. “So polished are my manners that I even brought you a gift.” I pulled a plastic container from behind my back. Zoe and I had labored over its contents all morning. Owen looked through the side of the container and, seeing only a brown mass, pried its corner open and sniffed skeptically.
    “If you’re trying to poison me,” he said, “it’s not going to work. My stomach’s built like an armory.”
“I would never. Apparently I need you too much.”
“So what is it?”
“Invite me in, and I’ll tell you.” Owen stepped aside and assumed the affected half bow of a butler. I couldn’t believe how bold I was being; it was totally unlike me. But that’s the funny thing about reinventing yourself: you can be any way you want to be at any given moment. I felt hopeful but without any confidence. I guess I didn’t truly expect