"Yes," I said. "We are."
I wrote the last action item in my notebook, assigned the last responsibility, and set the last deadline. Then I closed it.
We had a name. We had a look. We had a plan.
Now we needed Monday to go our way.
I drove back to my commercial kitchen and spent the rest of the evening on prep work. A corporate luncheon the following morning. A supplier call. The sort of ordinary business that kept the lights on while everything else was in motion.
Still at the kitchen? Come over when you're done.
I stared at the screen longer than I should have.
Something had been off since Sunday's christening. He'd been present but elsewhere. The careful distance, the surface-level answers. I knew the difference between someone who was processing and someone who was retreating. I'd been telling myself it was the former. I was less sure of that tonight.
I typed back: Early start tomorrow. Rain check?
His reply came quickly. Sure. Sleep well.
Two words. No follow-up. I put the phone face-down on the prep counter and finished the mise en place.
I wouldn't pull at it tonight. I had a collective to launch, a corporation to fight, and a team counting on me. Later, when we were alone, I'd ask him directly.
Or I'd give him a little more time.
I hadn't decided yet.
That was probably the problem.
EIGHTEEN
NADIA
The kitchen at the back of The Daisy Chain was perfect for our meeting. An enormous open space with room for fifteen people, tall windows overlooking the enclosed backyard, and much-needed privacy. Call me paranoid, but every time I turned around, I saw Samantha or Justin from Elevate.
Daemon arrived not long after six with Amelia and Malakai.
"Thanks for this," I said, watching him arrange chairs in a semicircle.
"No problem."
"Daemon—"
"Where do you want the coffee station?"
Daisy, who'd heard him, pointed to the kitchen counter, leaving me to swallow the question I'd been about to ask. Now wasn't the time. We had a meeting to prepare for.
Nor did he give me a chance, disappearing up the stairs while mumbling something about catching a game with Josh, Daisy's husband.
Skye arrived at six-thirty with Seth, her husband, and a box of pastries.
"These are perfect. Thank you." I opened the box. Almond croissants, lemon tarts, the sort of thing that made people feel welcome before a hard conversation. "Seth, can I get you a coffee?"
"I'm good." He stood behind Skye with the ease of a man comfortable in his own skin, despite his six-foot-four frame. "I won't stay for the meeting. This is Skye's thing." He stopped at the door. "Besides, I heard on the radio there's an Elevate SUV on Main Street that needs moving."
Skye looked at him over her shoulder, grinning. "That's the second time this week."
"Third," he said, and left. I watched him go, feeling something warm settle in my chest. Only in Coogan's Break would tow truck drivers form part of the resistance.
