Cavall offers his right paw again. His tail thumps hopefully.
This dog can take down an intruder and listen to commands in German, but get him to switch paws and he refuses.
“You’re both hopeless,” I say from the barstool, my hands wrapped around the mug of coffee he made me before I even asked.
“He’s not hopeless. He’s stubborn.”
“Wonder where he gets that.”
Lance looks up, and his face does that thing. That softening. Like the whole world gets quieter when he focuses on me.
Tomorrow night, we leave. Paxton has everything set up. A car that can’t be traced, a property in Boston under a name no one would recognize, cash, new phones. In thirty-six hours, I’ll be looking for my father, and this cabin, this bed, this strange and terrifying and beautiful life we’ve been pretending is ours will be behind us.
The ring sits on the nightstand where I put it last night. I couldn’t sleep with it on. It’s too heavy, and every time it catches the light, I see Art on one knee and a hundred people clapping and Lance’s chin dipping across the table.
Lance reaches over the counter and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers trail down my jaw, and I lean into the touch, closing my eyes.
“One more day,” he says quietly.
“One more day.”
His thumb traces my bottom lip.
And then a knock on the front door shatters everything.
We both freeze. Lance’s hand drops from my face. His eyes go flat, that instant shift from the man who makes me coffee to the man who survives. He moves to the window and angles his body to see the porch without being seen.
“Art,” he says.
My stomach bottoms out. I look down at myself. I’m wearing Lance’s shirt and have no pants. My hair feels like a mess. The ring is very muchnoton my finger.
“Go,” Lance says. “Bedroom. Close the door.”
I don’t argue. I grab my mug and move down the hall, but I don’t go upstairs to my bedroom. I go to his. I lock the door, and then press my back against the wall, close enough to hear.
“Morning,” Art says. “Thought I’d come by early. Figuredwe could get Gin moved over to my place today. She’s been here long enough, don’t you think?”
“Whatever you think’s best.”
“Where’d you run off to last night, anyway?” he asks. “It was a big moment for me, you’d think my best friend would stay to celebrate.”
I press my hand over my mouth.
“Forgive me for feeling like I’m not that important anymore. You don’t tell me when you’re leaving town. Don’t tell me when you’re back. Don’t tell me you’re planning on getting engaged at my brother’s party.”
“Fair enough. Where is she, anyway?”
“Guest room, I’d imagine. Still sleeping.”
“At nine thirty?” Art laughs. “That’s not like her. She’s usually up with the sun.”
That’s…never been true.
There’s a moment of silence, and my heart pounds in my ears.
“I tried to get her to come back with me last night, but she seemed adamant on saying goodbye to Cavall properly.”
“They’ve bonded.”
