Again, his brain – the same brain that couldn’t close a tax return until every receipt was accounted for – needed all the information before he acted. The complete picture. Where was Kara? Why the switch? What was the actual situation here?
Whatever reason they had for doing this – good or bad – had the potential to implode. Publicly. Spectacularly. She needs someone watching her back.
He wanted to help.
And the real Max wasn’t here.
But Jonah was.
This is a terrible idea, his heckler deadpanned.
Probably. Yeah. Definitely.
Tzipora. He had a name now. Not Kara. No Dr. Ackerman in the picture.
Any boyfriend in the picture?
Step away from the Google, Klein. Not the time.
His chest did something complicated.
She’s got enough problems without you catching feelings.
But the feelings were already caught.
Focus: one crisis at a time. Get her through the boat. Figure out the rest later.
Later was going to be complicated.
He looked back down at his phone and opened his texts. The picture Sylvie had sent earlier, of her and Eli’s hands holding the rainbow shave ice, was at the top.
On impulse, he shot Eli a text:
Any words of Baller wisdom?
His response was almost immediate:
Did you try the gelt?
Very funny. Eli stocked the green room with that stuff every year. But it did remind him of the message he’d unwrapped earlier.
Eight Nights, No Regrets.
He could do this. Keep an eye on her. Run interference with anyone who got too nosy. Make sure she got through the rest of the night without her cover being blown. Figure out the full story – why she was doing this, where Kara actually was. And then, when the boat docked and she was safe, and he had all the information, then he’d come clean.
It’s just a few more hours.
He thought of the way she’d looked at him after the photo booth had snapped its last picture. How her smile had widened, softened, into something real.
Fuck.
Yeah. He was going to protect her.
Even if it meant falling spectacularly on his face all over again.
Chapter Thirteen
“Hannon. Why are you really here?”
