Grace had never moved so fast in her life, not even during year-end audits. The second they got home from the anniversary party, she marched straight to the bathroom like a woman on a mission, yanked open the drawer Jullian had mentioned, and found the telltale pink box wedged between a spare eyeliner and half a dozen blister packs of paracetamol.
She turned slowly, staring at Jullian, who leaned in the doorway, arms folded and one eyebrow quirked.
“You really did buy one,” she said.
“Two, actually. Just in case the first one breaks under the weight of your disbelief.”
She held up the box. “You knew before I did.”
“I suspected,” he said. “Knowing is your job. I just watch you closely.”
Grace huffed, tore open the box, and disappeared behind the bathroom door with a muttered, “Fine, b
