"Uh huh." Rene waves and shuffles out, purple cardigan flapping.
The compass sits heavy in my palm. I tuck it into my pocket, feeling the weight settle against my hip.
Tess watches me. "Family heirloom?"
"Something like that."
"Good. You'll need all the backup you can get." She taps a new page. "Now let's talk about what happens if they ask about Stone's background directly."
We work until lunch, until my head hurts and I've memorized responses to questions I hope they never ask. Tess finally declares us as ready as we're going to get and heads out to handle her actual clients.
I'm alone in the bookstore when Stone calls.
"How bad is it?"
His voice is rough. Tired. "They're recommending suspending new placements pending review. Current matches stay for now, but under 'enhanced monitoring.'"
"What does that mean?"
"Monthly check-ins. Reports on integration success. Basically treating us like we're on probation." He exhales hard. "Darius is fighting it, but Blair's got three votes locked already. She just needs one more."
"And the hearing?"
"That's where she gets it. Public pressure, sympathetic testimonials from 'concerned citizens.' She's building a case."
I think about the talking points Tess prepared. The safe, boring version of our story that erases everything real.
"We can't let her control the narrative."
"Lacy—"
"I mean it. If we go in there defensive, acting like we have something to apologize for, we've already lost."
Silence. Then, quieter: "What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking we tell the truth. Not the sanitized version. The real one." I grip the compass. "That the program worked exactly how it should. It brought us together. And yeah, that got complicated and messy and very public, but complicated doesn't mean failed."
"They'll tear us apart."
"Maybe. Or maybe we show them something worth protecting." I rest at the counter, watching dust motes drift through afternoon sunlight. "I'm testifying Wednesday. So are you, I assume?"
"Darius wants me to."
"Good. Then we do this together."
Another pause. I hear street noise on his end, voices, the rumble of traffic.
"I love you."
The words hit like a shock of cold water. We haven't said it yet. Danced around it, implied it, showed it in a hundred ways. But hearing it plain, in his voice, steady despite everything?—
"I love you too," I say, and the words come easier than I expected. Natural. True in a way that needs no elaboration or defense.
"Okay." His voice shifts, gaining solidity like something settling into place. I can picture him standing straighter, shoulders squared. "Okay. We'll do it your way."
"Our way," I correct gently, because this isn't about me leading or him following. It never has been.
"Our way," he agrees, and I hear the smile in it now, warm and a little wondering, like he's still getting used to the concept of 'ours.' Of building something together instead of defending separate ground. "I'll see you tonight?"
