He let go. She shut the door.
Rafael waited until they were moving to speak. “Your hands are shaking.”
She didn’t deny it. “Adrenaline,” she said. “And the part of me that remembers the alley.”
“The part that decided,” he said.
She looked at him, and whatever he saw in her face made the line of his mouth soften without losing its shape. He didn’t touch her. He didn’t have to. The car felt smaller than the space between their ribs.
“You keep looking at me like you’re deciding whether to run or kiss me,” she said, dry.
“I’m deciding whether to do both,” he said, drier.
She huffed a breath that might have been a laugh in a better city. “After Renzo.”
“After Renzo,” he agreed.
Nora cleared her throat in their ears with the timing of a friend who refuses to be accidentally polite. “New
