“Wait, why are we...” James wrinkles his nose, his smattering of freckles dancing. “Is Felix all right? The baby—”
“Fine, we’re all fine. Healthy, we’re all healthy. Physically, we’re all perfectly fine, but mentally, I need you to help with that.” She holds up the tray of hot beverages. “Fortification?”
“Do I smell mocha?”
She hands him the mochaccino. Her phone buzzes beneath her thigh, and as she sets the tray back down, she subtly slides her leg aside. It’s a text from Aubrey wondering where she is, reminding her, as if she could forget, that the police are coming to AIM.
This is exactly what Mallory feared—that a pregnancy, that a baby, would divide Ilena’s time and loyalty. She couldn’t argue about the first, but the second, that would only deepen. A baby meant she’d need Mallory even more.
Ilena places her leg back on top of the phone and faces James. “I’d like to ask you some questions, but I don’t want you to ask me why I’m asking or say I already know the answer. I just want you to be honest with me. And in turn, I’ll be as honest as I can back.”
James sips his coffee. “You did hear the qualification in there, right?”
She nods. “I’ll do the best I can, that’s as much as I can promise.”
“On one condition. I get to ask you something that you have to answer with complete honesty.”
“All right. That’s fair.”
He rolls one hand. “Proceed.”
Ilena picks up the Earl Grey tea, and her stomach twists. She trades it for the peppermint, her eyes misting as James carefully takes the tray and rests the drinks on the ground, far from her overly sensitive nose. She clears her throat. “How long have you and Felix been friends?”
“You know—”
“James, you agreed.”
“Whatever. Six years.”
“And you’ve been close.”
“Is that a question?”
“Have you ever been closer than friends?”
“Like do we each have half of a BFF heart necklace?”
“Sure. Or an actual heart? One another’s?”
James stills.
Ilena wraps both hands around her tea. “Were you ever romantically involved?”
“Ilena, this—”
“There’s a reason, I promise.”
One foot begins tapping, gently rocking the bench. “A bit, but we weren’t exclusive.” His gaze travels to Ilena’s pregnant belly. “Obviously.”
So it was recent. “Were you in love?”
“‘You’ in the singular or plural?”
“Whichever. Both.”
“Singular, yes. My god, yes. Plural? I can only say I was hoping.”
“But I got in the way.”
