I told myself I was only calling Ethan for the truth.
The white peonies still sitting on my desk like they owned the place told me I was full of s**t.
He answered on the second ring, like he’d been staring at his phone, waiting for this exact moment.
“Ms. Reed,” he said, calm as ever.
“You said you weren’t hard to find,” I answered, my voice tighter than I wanted. “I guess I’m ready to test that.”
A short pause. Then, “There’s a quiet little coffee spot on Aldine Street. Corner booths. Nobody listens in. Eleven works for you?”
“Yeah. Eleven’s fine.”
---
The café smelled like burnt coffee and old wood. It was the kind of place where people talked low because the walls had ears.
Ethan was already tucked into the corner booth, hands wrapped around his mug, looking relaxed on purpose
