The cab merged into the late traffic and slid along the river. City lights laid broken coins across the water. Olivia watched them pass and felt each one loosen something inside her.
“Seatbelt," Alex said softly.
She clicked it. “You always remember."
“That's my job," he said.
“Your job is running a continent," she said. “Not watching me buckle."
“Both," he said. “I can multitask."
The driver glanced at them in the mirror. “North and west, yeah?"
“Yes," Alex said. “Take Pine Ridge Road when it splits."
“You got it."
For two blocks they let the cab do the talking. The hum of the engine felt like a hand smoothing the edge of a jagged day.
“Tell me your pain level," Alex said. “Straight number, no theater."
“Four when I breathe shallow," Olivia said. “Six if I move wrong."
“Then w
