REBECCA’S POV
Olivia arrived at my house on a Thursday morning without calling ahead.
I was in the study working through the final contracts for the brand partnership when I heard the front door open, not with hesitation, the way a guest enters, but with the specific certainty of someone who had been given a key and knew how to use it. I stood. I walked to the hallway.
Olivia was standing there with her coat still on and the expression she wore when she had been carrying something difficult for longer than she wanted to carry it.
“We need to talk,” she said.
I brought her to the kitchen. I made coffee. I did not ask what was wrong because I could see what was wrong in the specific quality of her stillness, the particular set of her jaw that meant she had been managing information and
