He leaves.
Only when the door shuts do I slump against the wall.
I finish closing quickly. By the time I step outside, a black sedan is idling at the curb. The guy from the bar throws me one last look, then gets in.
The car pulls away.
I realize my hands are shaking.
I tell myself it’s nothing. Just a weird customer and a long night.
Then I turn the corner and almost walk straight into a wall of black suit and broad shoulders.
I look up?—
“Oh.”
—and my eyes meet Nico’s.
14
NICO
She walks straight into me.
For a second she just stares up, eyes wide, breath catching like she’s run into a ghost. The streetlight catches in her hair, gold threading through the dark strands, and my chest tightens in a way that has nothing to do with the cold night air.
“Nico?” Her voice carries a mix of surprise and something sharper. Her eyes narrow. “Are you following me?”
I don’t deny it.
Instead I glance toward the street where the black sedan just disappeared.
“The man who spoke to you,” I say. “Who is he?”
Her posture stiffens instantly. The shift is immediate. Defensive.
“That’s what you’re worried about?” she asks.
I hold her gaze.
“Yes.”
She lets out a short laugh that has no humor in it.
“Unbelievable.”
She crosses her arms, stepping back like she needs distance from me.
“You can’t have it both ways, Nico,” she says. “Either you’re in our lives or you’re out. And you already made it pretty clear which one you chose.”
The words land harder than they should.
I ignore that.
“The man,” I repeat. “Who is he?”
Her jaw tightens. For a moment I think she’s going to walk away.
