“Of course you can,” she scoffed.
I wished I’d gone to a bar instead of a café.
“But there are layers to it. You can fall head over heels for someone on the surface. You can find them attractive and exciting or, in Knox’s case, infuriating. And it can stop there. But the deeper you dig, the more pieces you see of that person, the further you can fall. That can happen fast too.”
I thought about our late-night confessions, the strange, fragile intimacy we’d built between us by trusting the other with things no one else knew. I wondered if it would shatter if I told him the full truth. Or was there an invisible strength in that kind of honesty?
“Or if you’re like me and Knox, it can take a chisel and a hammer before you get past the ‘You’re hot. Let’s have sex’ layer,” Naomi added.
“I like that layer,” I admitted.
“What’s not to like about that layer?” she teased.
“Can the deeper layers even compare to that?” I was only half joking.
She hit me with her full wattage grin. “Oh, honey. It just keeps getting better. The more you know and love and respect your partner, the more vulnerable you are together, the better everything gets. And I do mean everything.”
“That sounds…terrifying,” I decided.
“You’re not wrong,” she agreed. “Have I waited the appropriate amount of time before demanding to know who is making you feel these feelings?”
“This is all hypothetical.”
“Right. Because you’re not sitting there with Nash’s dog. And you and Nash didn’t almost set fire to my dining room table with the sparks flying between you two at dinner. And Knox didn’t throw a fit about Nash cornering you afterward.”
“Nothing wrong with your communication as a couple,” I said.
She stared me down, willing me to break, but I held fast. “Ugh. Fine,” she said. “But just know that if you do need to talk, hypothetically or otherwise, I’m here. And I’m rooting for you.”
“Thank you,” I said, stroking a hand over Piper’s wiry fur. “I appreciate that.”
“That’s what friends are for,” she said before glancing at her watch. “If you’ll excuse me, it’s time for me to go let Sloane talk me into using the money from the sale of my house for the good of the community since my husband-to-be absolutely refuses to let me pay for the wedding, the honeymoon, or Waylay’s college.”
“Why not save it?”
“I’m saving some of it. But I used an inheritance from my grandma for the down payment on that house, and it just feels right to invest that in the future of something I care about. Sloane says she has the perfect cause.” She picked up her gallon-sized coffee and stood. “Don’t forget about dress shopping!”
We said our goodbyes and I watched Naomi glide out the door into the chilly autumn morning.
I looked down at Piper. She had whipped cream on her doggy mustache. “I think I need to tell your dad the truth,” I said.
The dog cocked her head and made an uncomfortable amount of eye contact.
“Have any advice for me?” I asked.
Her pink tongue darted out and snagged the whipped cream on her snout.
If Lucian hadn’t managed to convince Nash that I was a scheming, manipulative femme fatale over breakfast, maybe I could tell him why I was there and that I was kinda, sorta into him over lunch.
“You know, even if he’s initially mad at me, I still have you,” I said to the dog. “Maybe I can hold you hostage and ransom you for his forgiveness.”
Piper sneezed whipped cream on the table. I took that as an affirmative sign, and as soon as I finished mopping up the mess, I fired off a text to him.
Me: Have time to grab lunch today? I have something I want to tell you.
I put the phone down and stared at the screen, willing three dots to appear. But none did.
He was probably busy. Or he’d already made up his mind that I was bad news and no amount of belated honesty would fix that. What was I even doing? I was here to do my damn job and figure out a way to stop making risky decisions.
“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath.
I picked up the phone again.
Me: Just realized I don’t have time for lunch so forget I said anything about it. I have some errands to run so I’ll drop Piper off with Mrs. Tweedy.
There. Good.
It was the smart move to end it all now. It didn’t matter what Nash thought of me. I wouldn’t be here long enough to deal with the consequences.
“Hello, lovely.” Tallulah, Justice’s wife, appeared holding a large tumbler of coffee and a pastry bag. “Just wanted to tell you if that sexy car of yours needs an oil change, bring it my way. I love American muscle.”
“I wouldn’t trust anyone else,” I assured her.
She winked and left.
I froze with the mug halfway to my mouth.
Tallulah knew what kind of car I drove. I was part of a group text with fun, friendly women who seemed to be hell-bent on pulling me into their friend circle. The local café owner knew my name and how I liked my coffee. I had gym buddies, granted they were all members of AARP, but that wasn’t slowing them down on the dead lifts.
I glanced around me and recognized half a dozen faces.
I knew where to find all my favorite foods at the local grocery store and remembered to avoid Fourth Street between three and three thirty when school let out. I was in someone’s wedding. I was dog-sitting someone’s dog. I’d woken up two mornings in a row in bed with Nash.
Without me noticing it, Knockemout had sucked me into its gravitational field. And it was up to me to decide whether I wanted to break free. Whether I was brave enough to see what those other layers were like.
“Well, hell,” I muttered and picked up my phone again.
Me: Me again. Lunch is back on the table. Literally and metaphorically. I mean, if you’re available. Hope to talk soon.
“Oh my God. Hope to talk soon?” I dropped the phone and swiped both hands over my face. “What is wrong with me? What is this guy doing to me?”
Piper let out a little whimper. I looked at her. “Thank you for your feedback. I’m going to drop you off at Mrs. Tweedy’s so I can go talk to someone horrible.”
“Well, look who’s back.” Tina Witt looked awfully smug for a woman in a khaki prison jumpsuit.
The first time I’d met the woman, her resemblance to her twin sister, Naomi, was uncanny. It felt like I was meeting a literal evil twin. Only instead of a diabolical goatee, Tina sported the entitled attitude of a not-so-mastermind criminal.
“Tina,” I said, sitting across from her on the metal folding chair.
I’d been here twice before and left both times with big, fat nothing. Either Tina was holding on to some strange loyalty toward Duncan Hugo or she really didn’t know anything about, well…anything. Seeing as how she’d rolled on her ex to the feds, I was guessing it was the latter.
“I told you and your fed buddies fifty million times, I don’t know where Dunc is.”
It was time to try a new tactic. “I don’t work for the feds,” I told her.
Her eyes narrowed. “You said—”