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“Ready?”

“Yes.”

He does not tell me where we are going.

I discover why when we arrive at the funeral-home courtyard instead of a restaurant.

String lights hang between the trees, and a small table waits beneath them with two plates, candles, and food that definitely did not come from Bitter’s kitchen.

I stare.

“Who cooked?”

“Mercy.”

“Good.”

“Rude.”

“Alive.”

He pulls out the chair.

I sit.

Dinner is steak, potatoes, green beans, and peach cobbler because apparently romance in Tennessee has nutritional themes.

We talk about school, a new prospect named Chainsaw who is terrified of embalming needles, Petal’s baby, and whether Sheriff can legally be banned from the funeral home.

Bitter says yes.

Mourning, shouting from somewhere beyond the hedge, says no.

I nearly choke on my drink.

“I knew they were involved.”

“They were supposed to leave.”

Vesper calls, “We did!”

I put my face in my hands.

Bitter looks murderous.

“I'm killing my grandmothers.”

“No more murder holes.”

“One exception.”

“No.”

“Fine.”

He waits until the twins actually disappear.

Then something changes in him.