“Hold up. How do you accidentally have sex with somebody?” Adina scoffed. “Is she all, ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see your penis there’?”

“No, lady, you didn’t have sex with me, you had sex with my clone. I’m sorry, but I don’t know you.”

“I’m not a kid!” she told Shane hotly. “I’m only, like, a year younger than Eve!”“And girls are much more mature.” Eve nodded wisely. “So you’re about ten years older than Shane, then.”“Seriously,” Claire insisted. “I’m not a kid!”“Whatever you say, kid,” Shane said blandly. “Cheer up. Just means you don’t have to put up with me telling you how much sex I didn’t get.”“I’m telling Michael,” Eve warned.“About how much sex I didn’t get? Go ahead.”

“Not only did I manage to accidentally meet the man I’m investigating, I managed to accidentally have sex with him.”

“What about you and me, Adina?” Duff said, sidling up to her by the railing. “I know I screwed up. But do you think we could start over?”Adina thought about everything that had happened. Part of her wanted to kiss Duff McAvoy, the tortured British trust-fund-runaway-turned-pirate-of-necessity who loved rock ‘n’ roll and mouthy-but-vulnerable bass-playing girls from New Hampshire. But he didn’t exist. Not really. He was a creature of TV and her imagination, a guy she’d invented as much as he’d invented himself. And this was what she suddenly understood about her mother: how with each man, each husband, she was really trying to fill in the sketchy parts of herself and become somebody she could finally love. It was hard to live in the messiness and easier to believe in the dream. And in that moment, Adina knew she was not her mother after all. She would make mistakes, but they wouldn’t be the same mistakes. Starting now.“Sorry,” she said, heading for the bow, where a spot of sun looked inviting. ”Oh, also, about that blog? Just so you know, my dads know a lot of gay lawyers. Bitches will take your ass down if you try to publish that. Peace out.”

“Are you ready for my love gun?” he says.Uh-oh. “What’s a love gun? Is that a sex toy?”“No,” he says. “I’m talking about my penis.”“Oh,” I say. “Then yes. Fire away”