Rowan had an early call with China, so Sam picked me up on his way to the office the following day. The truck was still being fixed, and I hadn’t even thought about what I would do if I had to replace it. In truth, I didn’t need it. If I took the apprenticeship in the city, I would use the subway. If I took it in Paris, I couldn’t ship a car anyway, so I had no use for one over there. Sam said he would fix the truck and leave it at Grandma Joan’s house as an option, which made sense since it had been my grandfather’s truck first. When we got to the office, Rowan’s car was already parked. My stomach dipped.

“Do you think he saw anything yesterday?” I asked.

“I think if he had seen anything, I would have a black eye right now.”

I rolled my eyes. “Please.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t regret doing it, but I don’t want to hurt him.”

I agreed with that. We went inside and headed our separate ways. I took a moment outside of the closed office, debating between knocking and just walking in. I wasn’t sure. I decided to knock. The door opened as if he’d been waiting for me. I opened my mouth to say just that when I saw Camryn standing there smiling. Her red lipstick was smeared. My stomach churned at the sight.

“Tessa, it’s so nice to see you,” she said, all cheerful. “I’m so glad you’re helping Rowan these next couple of weeks. He’s always so exhausted and—”

“Camryn,” Rowan interrupted. “You can go now.”

She shot him a glare. “Of course. I’ll see you later.” She smiled widely at me, and I watched as she sauntered away. Red was the only color my spotty vision would allow me to see as I shut the door behind her.

I didn’t even look at Rowan as I sat and fired up my computer. My heart would shatter if I did. Seeing Camryn, her smeared lipstick, was enough to tell me that Rowan wasn’t nearly as single as he claimed to be. It made me realize that things with him were a double-edged sword, regardless of when they began and ended or at which point in our lives we met up. As long as she was in the picture, there was no room for me. Before, I’d taken the couch and made room for myself. At this stage in my life, I didn’t want the couch. I wanted the king-size bed. I wanted the assurances that it would be me, only me. And if I were being one hundred percent honest with myself, I didn’t want that either. I was terrified to be on the bed. At least the couch gave me an easy exit.

I dove into the phone calls, placing them in rapid fire, boom, boom, boom, never once looking up to acknowledge him behind me. He didn’t speak to me, either, and I was grateful that he was in one of his moods. The only time I saw him was when he left the office for his morning meeting, but I avoided looking at him when he came back. I even went as far as holding my breath when he walked by. I reminded myself that I had an apprenticeship I needed to choose and report to soon. That was what I needed to dedicate my life to. Not scary would-be feelings for a man who didn’t have it in him to fully reciprocate them.

I was lounging on my bed and made a pros and cons list for the New York company and Paris company. So far, New York was winning. Language and proximity to the majority of my family were the biggest factors. Celia was in London, but only temporarily, and Mom lived in France, but not close enough to Paris that I could stay with her. The thought of seeing her with a guy my age crossed my mind, and I shivered. My phone vibrated on my nightstand, making me sit up tall as I reached for it. I swiped the screen and read a text from Sam. Party canceled. Relief flooded through me.

Me: I don’t want to say I’m relieved, but . . .

Sam: Thought you’d say that

Me: Srsly though, why cancel?

Sam: Something about letting employees know via email. They wanna meet with me and Ro instead.

Me: Prob should have done that to begin with.

When I didn’t see any little dots that signaled him typing back, I set my phone down and turned back to my list. The moment my pen hit the paper again, my phone started vibrating. I exhaled and lifted the phone to my ear, thinking it would be Sam again, except it was Freddie’s voice I heard.

“Freddie?” My heart stopped. My brother never called me out of the blue.

“I need a favor.”

“Oh.” I paused, a sense of gratitude spread through me in knowing it was nothing serious but was immediately replaced with irritation. “You haven’t even asked me how I’m doing. How are you? How’s the job? How many men have you tortured today?”

“Two,” he said without skipping a beat. I paused, gaping even though he couldn’t see me.

“Seriously?”

I felt my eyes widen. My brother never, ever divulged information about his work with The Company. That’s what he called his place of employment. I thought not re-enlisting in the military meant no more scary shit, but from what we’d heard about The Company, that didn’t seem to be the case. They were constantly changing their identities in order to catch fugitives, that’s what we’d gathered from the breadcrumbs Freddie fed us when we saw him.

“You asked.”

“Jesus.” I exhaled. “Were they bad people?”

“Aren’t we all?” he said with a humorless chuckle. A chill ran down my spine.

“What’s the favor?”

“Remember the little gallery on Main? I need you to go to an exhibition they’re having. My paintings are featured, and I want you to tell me what prices are being offered.”

“Isn’t that gallery super exclusive?” I smiled. “That’s a pretty big deal, Freddie.”

“Yeah. I wanted to be there, but duty calls.” The disappointment in his voice tugged at my heart.

“I’ll be there and FaceTime you so you can experience it with me.”

He chuckled. “They won’t let you FaceTime in there. Just keep me posted.”

Six hours later, I was walking into the gallery, making good on my promise.