On their second Friday together in Saratoga Springs, Jack tipped the bellhop then turned to find Abbie sitting on the edge of the bed. When Jack sat down beside her, she stiffened. Something was wrong. He had sensed it the moment they’d met at the station. But when she gently pressed his arm to keep him at bay, his eyes sharpened.
Unable to look into his eyes, Abbie rose and went to the window, where she stared out and spoke without looking at him.
“I can’t do this. I didn’t want to tell you over the phone.”
“Abbie.” He wanted to argue or go to her and grasp her shoulders and force her to face him.
“I’m sorry. I know that there’s something—we’ve got something.”
He couldn’t believe it. It was like an out-of-body experience to hear what came next. She launched into a speech he’d been sa
