“I told my parents I’d stay.” She fiddled with the bottle cap. “I promised Claire.”
“That was before this opportunity.”
“Which I’m only getting because of you.”
“That’s not a reason to turn it down,” he said calmly, leaning forward to reach for the other sparkling water.
It wasn’t, and they both knew it. She looked away. He drank, watching her.
He was giving her a way back. One she could take without losing face—with something else she wanted waiting for her. Something that wasn’t him.
“I’d leave first. You’d still have most of a week before it starts.”
Bea’s grip on the envelope tightened.
He didn’t point out that there were a dozen ways he could’ve handled this—more direct, more forceful, more strategic. But this was the one he’d chosen. Control, wrapped in restraint.
Because she already knew.
And between them, silence had always been able to carry truth.
Chapter Four
The small, square hallway outside Bea’s bedroom was lit with the wintery glint of morning light. Her umma’s hum floated under the door, soft and familiar. Claire was still asleep beside her, arm flung across the pillow like she’d lost a bar fight in her dreams.
Bea lay with her phone pressed to her chest. Gage had dropped her off just before 3 a.m. No headlights, no driver’s door opened. Just a kiss against her temple before she slipped out, coat wrapped tight around the dress she hadn’t worn for him.
She hadn’t said much when she snuck in. Claire had just opened one eye, mumbled something about “not murdered,” and gone back to sleep.
Now, Bea exhaled and sat up slowly.
There was a message waiting.
GAGE: I’m free at twelve.
GAGE: You said she’s the gatekeeper. Let’s meet her first.
Her fingers curled around the phone.
Noon. That gave her two hours. Not to prepare him—Gage didn’t need preparation—but to figure out how to start peeling the bandage off. Claire. Her parents. The rest of it. The part that came after last night.
She typed back.
BEA: Okay. Want me to pick a place?
GAGE: The library café on Palmerston.
She smiled. Of course he found somewhere perfect inherhometown.
Claire groaned from the floor. “If you smile at your phone any harder, it’s going to combust.”
“Get dressed. You’re about to meet him.”
Claire rolled over, hair tangled, eyes barely open. “Now?”
“Lunch.”
That got her upright.
