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I turn my head just enough to squint at him. “Wow. Optimistic.”

“I prefer realistic,” he says, staring at his phone again.

I roll my eyes and let my head fall back against the pillows, inhaling deeply. The scent of fresh linen and whatever overpriced detergent rich people use fills my nose. For the first time all day, my body starts to relax.

Right up until I remember I have absolutely no idea what the sleeping arrangements are. Knowing my luck, I’m about to end up on the world’s oldest and fanciest chaise lounge because there’s no way in hell he fits on that abomination or actually agrees to share this bed with me.

I sneak a glance at Theo. He’s still sitting rigidly at the edge of the bed, and I have the distinct feeling that he’s hoping that if he ignores the situation long enough, it’ll resolve itself.

Unfortunately for him, I have absolutely no plans to make this easy.

Making him uncomfortable is one of my favorite pastimes.

He finally turns to face me and taps the screen of his phone, sighing, then completely changes the subject. “I’m good friends with Professor Ellery. Not sure if you know him.”

I gasp. “You have friends?”

He levels me with a flat stare.

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t have ‘Theo Grayson Has a Social Life’ on my bingo card.”

He glares at me but continues. “He’s a forensic chemist and trace evidence specialist who also teaches at Bellwood.” I’m aware of who Professor Ellery is, but unaware of what he tells me next.

“He has a private lab in the basement of the university,” Theo says, like it’s no big deal. “Technically, it’s not sanctioned, but the administration tolerates it because it makes the department look cutting-edge. His research lands them in journals, brings in grant money, and boosts their prestige, so no one asks too many questions.” He shrugs. “Unofficially, it’s for independent forensic studies. Officially? It’s where Ellery does shit that makes the university look good. As long as they don’t look too closely.”

I sense where this is going. “And he moonlights as your personal forensic analyst?”

“He has in the past,” Theo admits. “And my source for info. He consults on active cases without all the red tape of law enforcement labs.”

I sit up, crossing my legs under me.

It sounds sketchy, but honestly? Most official cases have unofficial corners. The system is all protocols and paperwork until someone needs results yesterday. Suddenly, favors get called in, rules get blurred, and the lab tech who usually follows procedure to the letter is covertly running something off the books. It's not ideal. But it’s real. And it works. Most of the time.

Until someone like me digs, finds what wasn’t logged, and runs with it.

The screen lights up and Professor Ellery’s face appears—disheveled, glasses slightly crooked, wearing a t-shirt that says: “Trust me, I’m a scientist.”

I like him immediately.

In the background, a man is lounging on a couch, feet propped up, working on what appears to be a crossword puzzle. He looks up when he hears Theo say, “Hey.”

“Ah,” Professor Ellery says dryly. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

The look on Theo’s face tells me that perhaps he thinks this is the most painful thing he’s ever been tasked with in his life. “Lila, meet Graham. And the one in the back who will be far too entertained by this conversation is his husband, August.”

August grins and waves, then sets his crossword down and walks over to plop down beside Graham. He rubs his hands together like he’s eager for what comes next. “What do you have for us tonight?”

Graham rolls his eyes as he twists a lock of August’s dark, curly hair around his finger affectionately. “Obviously my best friend in the entire world never calls just to chat. Only when he needs my expertise.”

Theo doesn’t look the slightest bit guilty. “Texts are for chatting. Phone calls happen only when necessary.”

I can’t say I disagree, being that I also avoid phone calls at all costs.

“As I’m sure you’ve seen on the news, Victoria Mayfair was murdered last week,” Theo continues without missing a beat.

August interrupts him. “Start from the very beginning. Graham never tells me the good stuff.”

Theo is silent for a second, the weight of what the beginning actually means settling between us. Because we both know this doesn’t start with Victoria. We can’t talk about her death without talking about Henry’s first. That’s why we’re both here. Again.