I texted him at eight-fifteen on a Wednesday.
Not strategically. Or — not entirely strategically. I was genuinely at the bakery finishing a new recipe and I genuinely needed a taster and Renee had genuinely left at six and those were all true things that had nothing to do with the phone call three nights ago that I had replayed approximately forty times since Sunday.
Ava: Still at the bakery. Testing something new. You interested?
I set the phone on the counter and went back to the stove.
The reply came in four minutes.
Marcus: What are you testing?
Ava: Brown sugar bourbon tart. New for the winter menu.
A pause. I watched the caramel reduce and told myself I was not watching my phone.
Marcus: I'll be there in twenty.
He was there in fifteen.
The bakery at night was a different p
