As he watched Lucy brush her hair, Simon observed, “Will doesn’t approve.”
Lucy replied, “Neither does your sister. But that’s to be expected, since she’s fond of you.”
Simon asked, deliberately casual, “How much does Will matter to you?”
Lucy tilted her head, her eyes meeting his reflection in the hotel room mirror. “My grandmother Mary’s family has a motto: ‘As my whimsy takes me.’ . . .Will’s a love, but you’d never catch him high-diving into a fountain at a costume-party.”
Simon blinked. “Um. Do you do that sort of thing often?”
Lucy smiled. “Don’t worry. I won’t pull you under.”