“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

She had been waiting to ask the question, assuming Braden would talk to her when he was ready. But they’d gotten through the strangely awkward exercise of Braden picking her up (as if it were a date, and it most definitely wasn’t a date… was it?), two huge margaritas at Rosa’s, two equally huge bowls of tortilla chips with Rosa’s famously spicy salsa, and two burritos. They’d discussed the botched raid in San Pedro, talked about Alvarez’s increasingly massive ego, even talked about the possibility of another rent increase on Nora’s apartment.

But nothing about Braden’s decision to leave the Bureau.

He looked more gorgeous than ever, and she wondered if it was because she knew their days were numbered. Knew that whatever his reason for leaving, he would be moving on. She’d spent the past hour-and-a-half trying to memorize the perfect symmetry of his features, the tiny patch of skin, smooth and tan, visible at the base of his neck, the way his eyes seemed to darken in the candlelight flickering from their table. More than once she’d had the urge to touch his hand, to finally close the distance between them before it was too late.

The words had emerged from her mouth instead, an attempt from the more reasoned part of her brain at returning to safer ground.

He put down his fork, looked at his plate before returning his gaze to her. “I’m not sure we should talk about this.”

She leaned back in her chair. “Why? We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Is that what we are?” he asked softly.

The question — said with an air of confusion she’d never before heard in his voice — took her by surprise. Was he calling her out? Asking her to reveal her feelings for him?

She swallowed hard, took a drink of her now-watery margarita. She thought about lying. About insisting that of course they were friends. They were only friends. Had only ever been friends.

But she didn’t want to do that. Didn’t want to lie or hide anymore. Not when the clock was ticking on their time together.

“I don’t know,” she admitted.

His nod was slow, but when he spoke, it wasn’t about what was between them.

“I think all the work I’ve been doing the past couple years messed with my head,” he said.

“Go on.”

He drew in a breath, shook his head. “I’m not sure we’re doing any good out there.”

She wasn’t surprised by the statement. Didn’t she sometimes feel the same way? Didn’t they all? It went with the territory. They tried, but they were limited by laws and statutes, by mistakes that were sometimes made because when it came right down to it, they were only human.

She could have reassured him. Could have insisted they did make a difference. Could have given him the same pep talk she gave herself when she started to doubt the work they did.

But that’s not what he needed from her, and it would be a disservice to their friendship, or whatever it was that was between them.

“I know what you mean,” she finally said.

He looked surprised. “You do?”

“Of course. I mean, we worked for nine months on the Kalashnik raid, and it all went to hell in seconds. Who knows if we’ll get another chance at him.”

“So why do we do it?”

She thought about it, wanting to be honest. To give him the answer he deserved. “What’s the alternative?” she finally asked. “Do nothing?”

He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again. “I don’t know.”

She took a breath, then another drink of her margarita. “What will you do now?” She tried to keep her voice steady. Tried not to betray her fear that they had wasted too much time. That he would leave her behind and whatever was between them would be a question she would never get to answer.

He turned his glass between his fingers. “I might have some work in La Jolla actually.”

“La Jolla?” La Jolla was nearly two hours south of L.A. So it was true. He was leaving. “What kind of work?”

He took a bite of his food and she had the feeling he was stalling. She wondered if he had a woman there. If this was the moment he would tell her he was engaged or moving in with some beach bunny who smelled like coconut and wore frosted lip gloss.

He wiped his mouth with his napkin, and her eyes lingered there, wondering what it would be like to feel his lips on hers.

“Research, private investigation, that kind of thing,” he said. “Something to pay the bills until I figure out a long-term plan.”

She studied him, trying to shake the feeling that he wasn’t telling her the whole story. Maybe there was a beach bunny and he just didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

“So you’ll be moving?” she asked, trying to keep the disappointment from her voice.

“Not officially,” he said. “I think I have a place I can crash when I’m there until I figure it out. But I’ll keep my place here for now.”

“That’s good.”

A slow smile crept to his lips. “Are you saying you’d miss me, Nora?”

It wasn’t the only time he’d used her first name, but there was something different in it now. Something intimate. It made her feel like he was really seeing her. Like maybe he’d been seeing her all along.

Now or never.

Everything you need to know is right in front of you.

She met his eyes. “Yes.”

He reached across the table, his fingers sliding between her own, his skin warm and dry. Time seemed to stop, the movements of everyone around them slowing to a snail’s pace. She had to work to keep breathing. Had to remember to take in the breath, let it out again.

He looked around for their waiter, then lifted a hand for the check before returning his eyes to hers. “Let’s get out of here.”