She blushes, and St. Clair bounds inside the box office and wrestles her into a hug. “Miiiiiiiiine!” he says. The couple buying tickets from me eyes him warily.

“Cut it out.” Anna pushes him off, laughing. “You’ll get fired. And then I’ll have to support your sorry arse for the rest of our lives.”

d we’ll talk about everything BUT our parents . . . or perhaps we won’t talk at all. We’ll just walk. And we’ll keep walking until the rest of the world ceases to exist.

“Christ, if I’d known that’s all it took to make you happy, I wouldn’t have bothered with the rest of this.”