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We’re sitting at a table right by the open window, barely noticing what’s happening behind us in the restaurant. The place is packed, and the servers are busy serving dinner. Empty plates sit in front of us—the club sandwich was actually really good.

The sun has already set, but it’s still warm enough to sit outside in short sleeves. The fresh breeze on the back of my neck feels good, especially after the rain the last few days that left the air humid and heavy.

“I don’t know.”

My own words cut through me like a stab to the chest, but I ignore the pain and fix my gaze stubbornly on the intersection. And then, out of nowhere, I can’t stop thinking that I’ve imposed this ban on myself as penance for my past—for what I did to Jerry.

“It’s just not the same without you. You helped build the practice. You’re a part of it.”

“I haven’t worked as a dentist in a whole year,” I point out.

“That doesn’t matter. You’re an excellent dentist. You always have been.”

Maybe it’s time to finally accept my violent past…

The thought hits me with the force of a slap across the face, jerking my eyes upward. Luke shrugs, misreading my startled expression.

“It’s true. You’re a good dentist. Or have you forgotten that?”

I push the thought aside. For some inexplicable reason, alarm bells are going off inside me. I mentally take a step back and run through the checklist I created for my own protection.

Since I ran into Luke again almost a week ago, he hasn’t sown a single seed of doubt or played the victim. He’s put my needs first, and I haven’t caught him trying to manipulate me even once.

But what about me?

Maybe I’m not entirely innocent in how complicated things got between us. How are you supposed to build a relationship when one person isn’t honest with the other?

Isn’t Aran the perfect example that it’s better to accept your past so you don’t lose your way?

I’ve been running from my past for so long that I might not have noticed what it did to the relationship between Luke and me.

My days in the West Village are numbered anyway. But maybe I should at least come clean with Luke before I go back to Astoria.

“Look, I… something was in the news today that…” My phone is dead, so I can’t show him.

Surprised by the subject change, Luke raises his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“When you walked me home… that photographer… apparently, he didn’t delete all the photos of us.”

It takes a moment for my words to sink in. Without taking his eyes off me, Luke tilts his head slightly and waits for more.

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but… I wasn’t completely honest with you.”

Luke opens an app on his phone and holds up the photo with the headline. “You mean this?”

“You already know.” I shake my head in disbelief.

“It’s not a big deal,” he assures me. “Of course, the photographer is an asshole, and if I run into him again, I’ll make him regret it, but… I know you too well. I know who you really are. You’re not a mobster. Right?”

He says the last word an octave higher, which makes me laugh.

“No, I’m not…” I keep to myself that my revenge on Jerry was what made me leave the family business. “Don’t worry. My cousin already took care of it. I don’t want to know what’s going to happen to that guy.” I pause and study Luke.

He looks good in his dark blue jacket and James Dean hairstyle. He sits relaxed, one leg crossed over the other, smiling at me.

Suspicion creeps in.

What are the odds that he had a hand in all of this?