“On your birthday?”

“What better day than the one I get to make the choice in how I spend it?”

“Touché.” Tero laughs; the sound is loud and boisterous and a bit strange. It comes off as a wheeze and I join him, not stopping until tears spring to my eyes and I snort. Then he’s laughing at me, which creates a weird cacophony inside the enclosed space, and I can’t breathe by the time he’s slowing down. “You are something else, Miss Moore. Never change.”

“I promise if—”

“I take you home,” he finishes for me, pulling over to the end of the street and putting the car in park. The phone, which he’d put in one of the cupholders, is now in his hands and his thumb is flying across the screen as he types a message, hits send, and then sends another. For two minutes we sit in silence until the device pings and he shows me the response.

As you wish. Please enjoy your day and the chocolates. ~Astor

A second one comes through before he can close his phone.

No work is allowed either. ~Astor

The latter I give an inner eye roll to and instead smile. “Thank you.”

“None needed, birthday girl.” Pulling off from the curb, he takes a familiar route toward my home after I give him the address, and I close my eyes. There are things that don’t make sense, but I’ll decipher them even if it kills me. Elise’s actions, the dress, and my dreams all have to mean something, and I plan to put an end to this mystery. I can’t go on like this. I can’t continue being scared or doubting everything because of a recurring nightmare. “Now let’s get you home.”

“Once again, thank you for everything.”

“I’ll take a nice painting as payment in the future.”

At that, I bark out a laugh. “Done. My choice on the subject, though.”

“Seems like a fair trade.” Another turn and my body sways with the movement, pulling closer to the door, and I open my eyes. We’re close to my home and after pulling into the driveway, Tero lets the car idle while rushing to get my boxes and then my door. I’m not given the chance to open my own, and he nods toward the door when I stay seated just watching him run around. “Or did you change your mind?”

“No.” Shaking my head, I chuckle. “I’m just not used to seeing people move like that.”

“Move like what?” He follows me up the three steps to my door, curiosity in his tone.

“Precise and controlled.”

“Should I be looser and clown-like?”

“Not one bit.” Turning the key, I let us inside and motion toward the smaller sitting room to the right of the entryway. It’s the formal of the two with my TV room being at the far back near the kitchen. His eyes take in the space, nodding to himself a bit, and I can almost see a question sitting on the tip of his tongue. “Go ahead. Ask.”

“Not a question, per se...”

“Then?”

“Just thought it’d be more contemporary and less flowery, is all.”

“And you’d never know by my appearance that I’m fascinated by true crime documentaries. I live for that craziness and binge watch every single one I come across.”

“Really?”

“Netflix ones are the best. The bloodier the better.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Tero places my boxes down atop the wooden coffee table. “I’m more partial to animal documentaries, snakes to be precise.”

“Oh! What kind?” Because I’m a sucker for those too. That, and Shark Week.

“Pythons. Constrictors in general, really.”

“They are fascinating creatures.”

His smile widens and those clear eyes light up. “Finally, someone else who gets it.”

“Love those shows, but I’d probably freak out if I ever saw one up close. I’m a total chicken, then.” Grabbing the top box, I pull out a chocolate ganache macaron and take a bite. “God, these are so good. That bakery is about to make a killing off me if the rest is anywhere near this masterpiece.”

“How deep is your sweet tooth?”

“Never ending,” I manage to say before stuffing the rest in my mouth. “No shame either.”

He raises a brow just as his phone pings with a text. “Yet, you chose savory instead at breakfast?”

“Breakfast, lunch, and dinner are never to be sweet. Those morsels are saved for the after.”

“Noted.” His cell chimes again, and he takes it out of his pocket without looking at it. This one is a smaller device than the one in the car. How many phones does he have? “Three, but this one is for when I don’t answer the one you saw earlier, and no, you didn’t say that out loud. Your facial expressions are very telling.”

“Makes sense.” Not really. “And the third?”

“The third is for family only.” Before I can respond, he looks at the small screen and nods. “Well, this is where I leave you. The boss is calling.”

“Okay.” Why am I so comfortable with him? “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Tero heads toward the door, reaching out for the knob but pauses when his hand touches the metal. “Would you like a lift to the gallery tomorrow? I don’t mind if—”

“Yes.” No hesitation from me.

“Good.” He doesn’t say anything else, stepping out into the early afternoon sun while I stay rooted in place. I ignore my home phone ringing from the kitchen and then the answering machine beeping with a message.

Eventually, though, curiosity wins and I head toward the device that came with the house and I’ve been reluctant to throw away. I kept my uncle’s number too and just continued to pay the bill.

Can you please answer me already, Gabby? I’m sorry for being a jerk today, and the dress looked really beautiful on you. Please don’t be mad and call me, your best friend, back who sucks at apologies.

“What are you playing at, Elise?” She made a big deal out of my dress and my behavior and my “ruining” her moment, but everything was set up by her without my input. Without my permission and relates to my business, not hers.

Why be overdramatic?

Why purposely start a fight and hurt me?

Why did I automatically think someone broke into my home when I have no proof?

Those questions keep running through my head, further cementing my need to hole up for the day with junk food and some reality TV. Something light and funny and so far removed from any kind of drama that I can relax—forget.

Mr. Pickles collar tinkles then, his chubby body trotting into the room, eyes searching every corner. He’s not being himself, trembling a bit, and I don’t hesitate to scoop him up in my arms while checking both his water and food dishes.