“I would sell my soul to gain access to that house.” Rosie’s chocolate-brown eyes were glassy, but there was no mistaking the seriousness in her voice. “Come on, Nikki. Help a chick out.”

Nikki giggled as she twirled the straw in whatever drink Rosie had convinced her she just needed to have. She had no idea what it was, which wasn’t at all surprising since they were at Cure, a bar on Freret Street known for their unique cocktails. “Not going to happen.”

“Seriously,” Bree chimed in from across the table. She would know exactly how impossible it would be to open the door to Rosie’s unique blend of craziness. She was Bev’s daughter, and while Nikki knew Bev didn’t gossip about things she saw or heard while retrieving the laundry, Bree knew enough to know how the de Vincents were. “No one gets into the de Vincent compound without permission.”

Nikki should never have told Rosie about what happened the last week, the whole glass moving by itself, because now she was more determined than ever to get inside the de Vincent compound.

“You can sneak me in!” Rosie lifted her hands. “I thought you said the cameras inside are for show, because they mysteriously don’t work.”

“They don’t work.” Which was just one of the mysteries at the de Vincent house. No cameras ever recorded in the house beyond a camera on a phone. She knew they had electricians and technicians out there many times over the years, and no one could explain why. “Because of ghosts.”

“Exactly!” Rosie slammed her hands down on the table, jarring it. The people at the table behind them looked over. “That is why I need to get in there with NOPE.”

NOPE stood for New Orleans Paranormal Explorations, the team Rosie worked with. Nikki snort-laughed and it didn’t sound attractive, but she couldn’t help it. “Devlin would have a stroke if I let a paranormal investigative team into his house.”

“Uh-huh.” Bree nodded, sending tight braids over her shoulders. “That he would. I only met that guy once and I know that. Hell, they don’t even let me in the house, and my mom has worked for them for decades.”

“Ugh.” Rosie plopped her chin on her fist. “I would shave my head to get inside the house.”

“You could pull that off,” Nikki said dryly. And it was true. Rosie was Louisiana Creole and she had the most beautiful honey-colored skin Nikki had ever seen. “So that wouldn’t exactly be a sacrifice.”

“Agreed.” Bree finished off her drink.

Nikki rolled her eyes at Bree. “As if you couldn’t do the same. I, on the other hand, would look like a hot mess.”

“You always look one step away from being a hot mess.” Bree grinned when Nikki threw her napkin at her. “Crap.” Bree checked the time on her phone. “I’ve got to go. Gotta work in the morning.” Ignoring their boos, she slid off her stool and gave them a quick kiss on the cheek. “Don’t be hos tonight without me.”

Rosie laughed as she nodded her head at Nikki. “As if this one over here even knows what being a ho is.”

Bree laughed. “Too true. Be safe.”

“I know what being a ho is,” Nikki said after wiggling her fingers goodbye to Bree. “I’ve got my ho on more than once.”

Rosie arched a brow as she knocked an auburn curl out of her face. “Honey, when is the last time you even went out on a date?”

Huh. Scrunching up her nose, she had to really think about that. “Um, I had one . . . in March, I think?”

“That was seven months ago.”

“So? I was busy with finals and then moving back home.” She sipped more of whatever the citrusy stuff was. “What about you?”

“Last night.” Rosie grinned. “It wasn’t a sleepover.” There was a shrug. “But it was nice.”

“Nice.” Nikki laughed, but it came out sounding like a snort once more, which meant it was time to stop the drinking. Sighing, she pushed the drink away.

Rosie was studying her closely. “How are things with Gabe?”

“Ugh,” she groaned. Rosie knew about Gabe—knew everything. Her confession occurred one night a few years ago where nearly an entire bottle of tequila had been consumed between them. Rosie was the only person who knew what happened. “Not good.”

Rosie reached over. Orange and red bangles clanked together as she patted Nikki on the arm. “Talk to me.”

Leaning forward so Rosie could hear her, Nikki told her about the confrontation in the kitchen and then what happened yesterday. When she finished, Rosie let out a low whistle. “Damn, girl, I don’t know what to say.”

“Exactly,” Nikki muttered. “I’m trying to stay away from him. I have been! Except when I don’t have a choice, but . . .”

“But what?”

She raised her shoulders. “I know I messed up, but I . . . I just wish it wasn’t like this. I mean, I’m pissed at him. What he said to me yesterday was not cool.”

“Damn straight it wasn’t.”

She toyed with the edge of the drinks menu as laughter exploded from the bar. “But I wish things could be the way they used to be with us. He’s a good guy. I mean, he could’ve easily ignored me like his brothers did for the most part, but he didn’t. He was kind to me, always made time when I know I was being annoying.”

“You’ve got to understand that the past is the past. There is no going back to that,” she said. “You’ve got to accept that and let it go.”

Nikki knew that.

She also knew it was easier said than done.

“Seriously, Nikki. I’ve known you for how many years now? You’re a good woman, and it’s time for you to get some good in return.”

Nikki opened her mouth.

Rosie wasn’t done. “You don’t let any guy get close to you. And poor Calvin? He was a good guy, Nikki. He wasn’t a stray.”

She winced at the mention of her ex-boyfriend.

“He was patient and understanding, but you didn’t love him. You could’ve fallen in love with him, but you didn’t let yourself love him.”

Her gaze lifted to her friend and her dumb throat started to thicken. Rosie was dropping truth bombs like it was D-Day.

“You’re not going to be able to move on, have fun, and maybe find someone until you let all that bullshit go.” Rosie sounded surprisingly sober in that moment. “You were eighteen and blinded by your first love. You made dumb choices because of it. You didn’t murder someone. You didn’t set out to trick him. It happened. It’s over. Stop punishing yourself.”

Her lips lifted in a weak smile. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

“Don’t do that. You’ll ruin your mascara, and then you won’t have any hopes of being a ho tonight.”

Nikki broke out into a loud laugh. “I’m not ho-ing tonight.”

A guy walking past their table glanced over with interest. He stopped.

“You couldn’t afford her,” Rosie said, dismissing him. “Move along.”

“Oh, geez.” Nikki swallowed a giggle. “Thank you. I think I . . . I think I needed to hear all of that.”

“You did.” Leaning over, Rosie kissed her cheek. “You’re too young to live like you’re my age, because I don’t even live like that. Now let’s order a shot.”

Thankfully their night stopped at one shot and didn’t turn into the kind of night where you ended up in the French Quarter, stumbling through what was most definitely not puddles of just water.

The night had been good, though. Nikki truly realized it as she said goodbye to Rosie, who was heading to a friend’s place instead of her apartment on Chartres. She had punished herself long enough for being young, dumb, and in love once upon a time. Not anymore. Starting right now, she was letting it go. All of it.

Hopefully her new motto in life wasn’t fueled by liquid courage.

She’d called for an Uber as she’d walked out of the bar, but as she scanned the street, she didn’t see the green Prius that was supposed to be coming for her. Checking her app, she sighed when she saw the car was still over on Canal, stuck in traffic.

That was going to take fifteen minutes or more for the driver to get to Uptown. Sighing, she curled her arm around her waist as she eyed the benches along the building. Most of them were full of people chatting and smoking.

At least it was a nice night, not raining or too ridiculously hot. She moved to stand by the curb and looked down Freret, spying a huge crowd near where the comedy theater used to be. What were they doing? Probably a street performer or an overdose. One never knew in New Orleans. Tucking her hair back behind her ear, she looked away and tipped her head up. Stars were out, battling against the twinkling lights of the city. When she’d been at Tuscaloosa, she’d missed the sights and sounds of New Orleans.

She started to glance down at her phone, but stopped when a weird sensation skated along the nape of her neck. Turning to the side, she almost expected to find someone walking up behind her, but there was no one there. No one really paying attention to her, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes drilling holes through her back. Not until the green Prius finally showed up. Not until she was back home, safe in bed.

It felt like Nikki had only slept for a few hours when there was a knock on her bedroom door, followed by her father calling her name.

Pushing the covers off her head, she sat up, wincing as the harsh morning sun did a number on her poor eyes and head. “Yeah?” she croaked out, and then groaned. She sounded terrible. “What, Dad?”

“You awake?” he called out.

Uh, now she was. Sitting up, she pushed the rat’s nest of hair out of her face. “Yeah. You can come in.”

The door cracked open and her father stuck his head in. “You have a visitor.”

“What?” She squinted at him and then looked at the clock on her nightstand. It was nine in the morning. No one she knew would be at her house at nine in the morning on a Sunday.

Her dad’s face was strangely blank. “It’s a very odd visitor . . .” He looked over his shoulder. “Come downstairs.”

She watched her dad close the door. “What the hell?”

The air around her didn’t answer, so after a moment of sitting there trying to clear the cobwebs of sleep from her mind, she threw the covers off and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She started toward her bathroom, but decided against it. Whoever was downstairs wouldn’t require brushed hair or a fresh face. And since she was wearing loose flannel bottoms and a cami with a built-in bra, all she grabbed was a lightweight cardigan.

Smothering a yawn, she headed down the narrow hall and staircase. She shuffled into the kitchen, relieved when she smelled coffee.

She was going to need a gallon of that stuff and a handful of aspirins.

Trailing a hand over the worn wallpaper in the cozy dining room, she hung a right and then the kitchen came into view.

Nikki came to a sudden stop.

Was she still drunk from last night? Had she drunk more than she realized? Because that had to be the case.

That was the only option, because there was no way Gabriel de Vincent was sitting in her parents’ kitchen with a smoothie in front of him.