#Chapter55
For a moment, I thought he was going to say something even meaner. His shoulders had squared and his face had become painfully bare, but then a slump commandeered his form and he gave a small nod. /"Sorry, Ozzy./"
/"Mo — mommy said that we could take Milo with us to the seaside if we go on holiday,/" I told Blake, hoping that the shift in subject would eclipse the discomfort.
/"Oh?/" Blake sat a little straighter. His hand had slid under the table, fingers joined with my own, and he gave a discreet squeeze. /"I think that's a great idea. He'd love the sea. He's like you and loves jumping in puddles at the park./"
/"You're not invited,/" Isaac said. He had turned his attention to his plate, smushing a piece of chicken beneath the prongs of his fork. He didn't glance up as he spoke, but it was clear who he was talking to.
