“Who?” “You know, that new kid who works at the entry gate. I think his name is Adam, but after that first day when he wouldn’t let me in, I dubbed him the Guardian of the Gate.” “I don’t believe you mentioned that.” He checks the stack of mail on the entry table, probably wondering where on earth I’m going with my story. “He’s not such a bad kid. Grew up in a small town in Jersey and did a couple of years in the Army.” Z cuts his eyes at me, brows raised impatiently. I plop onto the sofa and open my phone. “It was funny. He made a joke about people always being in a hurry. Said he saw you flying past the front gates the night of the engagement dinner. I explained that it couldn’t have been you because you were at the house with us, but he swore up and down that he’d seen you. Said he’s le
