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She blinks at it, then at me. “What stuff?”

“Period stuff.”

Her mouth parts slightly.

I shove the bag toward her before I can die of embarrassment. “Not…products. There were too many options. So I got other stuff.”

She reaches inside and pulls out the bear. For one second her whole face changes. Her eyes widen and this soft, surprised smile breaks through—the kind that hits me straight behind the ribs. She likes it.

But just as fast, the smile fades. Her expression shutters.

“You didn’t have to do this,” she says quietly, clutching the bag. “Thank you. That’s…really sweet.”

I shift on my feet. “You need anything else? I can stay. Make you food. Sit with you. Take Fifi out before she dissolves into dust.”

A tiny smile flickers across her face, then disappears. For a moment I think she might let me in. Then her fingers tighten around the handles of the bag and she shakes her head.

“I think I just need some space right now,” she says. “Okay?”

Space. She keeps saying that. I don’t like it.

“Yeah,” I say. “Okay.”

Her eyes search mine for a moment before she closes the door.

Yeah, she’s pissed at me.

I know what this is about. She asked about our future.

I panicked.

What the hell was I supposed to say? That she can’t be seen with me like that. Not while the prenup is still sitting there like a loaded gun, waiting for one wrong photo, one wrong witness, one mistake Maverick’s lawyers can twist into proof.

And if I tell her that, I have to tell her how I know.

Ray.

Maverick.

The job.

The fact her dickhead son-in-law is the reason I only have one good arm.

Yeah. That conversation would go great.

I head home and shut my front door harder than I should. The house is too quiet. Theo’s at a friend’s until six, so there’s nothing to do but stand in the middle of the living room and try to make the pieces line up.

They don’t.

This whole thing is spiraling. I’m lying to Ray, buying time. Ray’s getting impatient. Maverick’s pushing harder. Marco is waiting for any excuse to step in.

Carmen filed for divorce five or six weeks ago. She won’t be clear for months. Ray won’t wait that long. Maverick definitely won’t.

And I can’t keep standing between her and the mess I was hired to make without someone noticing.

But none of that is what’s really eating at me.

It’s that she won’t fucking talk to me.