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In an instant, my books and all her shopping bags scatter across the floor in front of the store.

I drop to my knees to grab my stuff without making eye contact.

Damn it, I should’ve been more careful.

I can feel her eyes on me, and I wonder if she’d think I was insane if I just ran.

Calm down, Amber,I scream at myself silently.

I don’t lift my head—I’m too mortified. If this woman really is my sister-in-law and there’s even the slightest chance we’ll be formally introduced one day, she’s going to remember this moment and put two and two together. She doesn’t need to be a genius to figure out I was following her.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, and it’s the last thing I wanted—to be spoken to—because it makes everything feel way too real.

Still, I can’t help but notice how sweet her voice is.

“It’s nothing,” I reply, avoiding eye contact. “I’m just really clumsy.”

And stupid,I add silently.

Way to go, Amber. Real secret agent material.

“Tell me about it. I know all about being a girl with slippery hands,” she continues, clearly not ready to let me off the hook.

Sighing, I finally look up.

Wow. She’s stunning. For a second, I’m completely caught up in her beauty. Lilly looks like a painting.

But then I realize she’s giving me a weird look, and after confirming that she’s got all her bags, I get to my feet.

“Lillyana Ross,” she says, extending her hand before I can bolt.

I hesitate, but thinking about the future, I see no way around it. “Amber Martin.” I could’ve made up any name, but somehow, I felt the need to leave at least one piece of truth with her from this encounter.

“Amber? That’s a beautiful name.”

“I think they gave it to me because of my eyes.”

Shit!

That’s what happens when you let your guard down. I said too much.

Nervous as hell, I turn and walk away without saying goodbye or looking back. This trip to Boston won’t be the one where I uncover the truth about Amos.

I duck into one of the mall restrooms and change back into my regular clothes. I don’t turn my phone back on yet. It’s already nighttime, and there are probably a bunch of messages from Beau.

This morning, I told him I wanted to do something different—movies and popcorn, an activity I’ve only ever shared with my sister before. But after ditching the bodyguards, there’s a good chance we’ll be spending the evening arguing.

I have no illusions—he’ll definitely grill me when I get home. If I even make it back before him. And as much as I feelworse every day about all the lies, if I tell him about Amos, I’ll have to tell him everything—about Elodie, and by extension, the Italians.

I’ve thought about coming clean, but I’m terrified of his reaction.

So instead, I keep pushing the truth further and further into a future that never seems to come.

I’m almost home now, exhausted from the tension of the encounter with Lilly, from the fact that my entire life is a lie, and from constantly lying to Beau.

I’m not usually emotional, but I feel out of control—eyes full of tears—and I never cry.

I turn Beau’s phone back on, and it immediately starts ringing. I wait a few seconds to answer, bracing for a fight, but instead, there’s only silence on the other end. Then I hear the thud of what sounds like the phone hitting a hard surface.