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He goes on, tossing out thoughts—“Not an impossibility. I didn’t find anything about an orrery, but I did find a record of something equally as bizarre.”—and I start to relax. The buzz of embarrassment fades, replaced by genuine intrigue.

“The internet is a wasteland, by the way. Someone out there owns a coffee table made out of a meteorite that went for seven-and-a-half million dollars.”

I shift subtly, slipping the vibrator from my waistband and, under the blessed distraction of his rambling about diamond encrusted toilet seats, slide it under my pillow in one smooth motion.

“People with that kind of money,” I say, “never use it for anything worthwhile, do they?”

“Nope,” he replies.

I finally ask the question that’s been gnawing at my brain for most of the day. “Do you think what Tillie and Giles said about Victoria is true?”

“If I’m being honest, I want to believe it is. To finally have an answer after all these years—” he trails off. “When we came here, I wasn’t convinced we’d find anything at all. Not because we weren’t capable, but because I’d spent so much time trying to figure it out from a distance myself. And then even longer trying to forget about it altogether.”

I play with the hair that curls around the bottom of his ear, giving him an understanding look.

The conversation rolls on from there into theories about what else is hiding in this place, the estate’s weird-ass traditions Evelyn told me all about while I was helping her, and somehow, her collection of hats that look like cursed pastries.

“She owns a fascinator shaped like a croissant,” I say at one point, half-yawning. “I’m not even making that up.”

“I believe you,” Theo says, amused.

“I’ve seen her wear a literal bird nest,” I add.

My nerves dissolve completely, replaced by a warmth that settles low in my belly and makes my chest feel the best kind of full. Exhaustion creeps in. I stretch out beneath the blankets and let my eyes fall closed.

His last words before sleep takes both of us are, “We’re gonna crack this, you know.”

And mine, barely whispered, are, “I know.”

The last thing I register before sleep pulls me under is Theo’s arm sliding around my waist, drawing me in until our bodies settle together, and then his lips pressing softly against my forehead.

I wake up slowly. The sun’s already up, slanting golden beams across the floor. Theo’s side of the bed is empty and cool.

There’s a folded note next to my pillow in his handwriting.

Went for a walk. Try not to get detained by the pastel polo guys without me. —T

I smile like an idiot. Stretch. Feel marginally more sane than last night. And I definitely do not think about all the things I want this man to do to me if given the opportunity.

Nope. Brush teeth. Dress for the day. Leave those thoughts behind so I can get ready for my brunch date with Evelyn and Emily.

The picnic setup by the pond is classic Evelyn taking advantage of a rare warm day. Blanket, parasol, tiny sandwiches cut into perfect triangles. Emily brought lemonade. She’s also brought her knitting—her newest hobby—and though she’s undeniably terrible at it, she keeps poking at the tangled mess of yarn in her lap with cheerful determination. Whatever keeps her mind occupied, I suppose.

I do my best to focus on the conversation, even when Evelyn spends thirty minutes complaining about the estate’s salamander problem. But mostly, I sit, chew my cucumber sandwich, and think about Theo’s handsome, smirky face.

Except, as I pop a grape in my mouth, my phone buzzes next to my leg.

Theo: Did you lose something?

I pause mid chew. Frown.

Lila: …what?

Theo: Small. Pink. Buzzes.

He sends a picture with the words “Exhibit A” typed out beneath the offending evidence.

Oh no.