She nods slowly. Sips her coffee. Stares at the fridge where I’ve already printed the night rotation chart and stuck it up with a magnet.
“This feels very military,” she observes finally.
“It’smise en place.” The words come out sharper than I intend. “Everything in its place. Clear roles. No surprises.”
Running my life like a restaurant.
“Right.” Her mouth quirks. Almost a smile. “Because surprises are bad.”
Understatement of the fucking year.
My phone buzzes. Filepe in the group chat.
Street count holding at three vehicles. Recommend in-house posture through midday. Will reassess at 1400.
I show Jess the message.
She shrugs. “I’ve already agreed to three days.”
“You have.”
She sets her mug down. “Guess I should start Ben’s lesson plan.”
She moves toward the library, but pauses in the doorway. “Marco?”
“Yeah?”
She opens her mouth, closes it. Opens it again. Then just smiles, and walks out.
My phone buzzes again. Ethan this time.
Heard you’re on lockdown. Need anything?
I stare at the text. My best friend. Jess’s brother. The man who warned me to keep my hands off his sister and has no idea I’ve already had my hands on her. Twice. Three times, if you count the kiss.
Which I do.
We’re good,I type back.Jess is here. Live-in. Security’s tight. Just waiting it out.
Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again.She’s LIVING there?
Temporary. Seventy-two hours. Safer than her going back and forth with the press camped outside.
The dots stay there forever. Finally:Okay. But Marco. Seriously. Hands off.
I pocket the phone without replying and head upstairs to check the night rotation setup one more time. The primary suite is exactly as we left it this morning. Bed made. Blackout drapes in place. White noise machine queued on low.
The sleeper sofa in the hall is pulled out and made up. Backup position for whoever’s on monitor duty.
Everything in its place.
I move to Ben’s floor. The smallest guest room door is open. Jess’s bag on the chair. Her phone charging on the nightstand. A book I don’t recognize splayed open on the bed.
I turn to leave and nearly collide with Jess coming up the stairs.
“Sorry,” she says quickly. Steadies herself with one hand on the wall. “I was just coming to grabmy notebook.”
We’re standing too close. Maybe three inches between us. Close enough that I can smell her shampoo. That lavender and citrus combination that’s been driving me insane for weeks.
