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I didn’t know where Perry was.

I was not in contact with him and hadn’t been for a while.

I was divorcing him because of irreconcilable differences.

Amita pushed me to lean, if asked, into how young I’d been when we were married. That I’d grown so much over the years and decided I wanted a different future.

Ethan told me that I didn’t want to give one-word answers, but I also never wanted to over-explain. And never volunteer anything other than what was asked of me.

The same crew had spoken to my mom as well, but all three had declared that she didn’t need any coaching.

She also didn’t appear to be shaken up by the act of taking someone’s life.

Though, to be perfectly honest, once the initial shock of it all wore off, I’d been weirdly okay with it all as well.

That probably sounded awful, but it was what it was. Perry was gone. But he’d been actively trying to kill me and my mom.

“Ready?” Cain asked, coming in through the front doors of the fixer firm, coffees in hand.

He’d been banned from our meetings. The team wanted me to be at my most vulnerable self. And Cain was too much of a comfort person for me. As much as I hated not having him there, I had to admit that I found my own strength when I was alone.

Besides, if I was going to be questioned by the police, it would almost certainly be alone. I had to be prepared for that.

“To go? Yeah. We’re all done.”

“Nope. Not just to go. I have a date planned,” he said, passing me my latte.

“A date? Am I dressed for it?”

He looked me over. “Yep.”

“You’re not going to tell me what it is, are you?”

“Nope. It’s a surprise. But we have a bit of a drive. Just twenty minutes or so.”

“I don’t know if I like surprises,” I admitted as he opened my car door for me.

“Well, if you don’t like this one, I won’t do them again. But for just this one, let’s try it?”

His willingness to give me a choice was all I needed to feel comfortable saying yes.

“Just keep stepping forward,” he said a few minutes later, his hand over my eyes, his body behind mine as we walked up to the building. “I’m just reaching around you to open the door. Then it’s straight in, no steps.”

“What is—” I started. But then it hit me. A scent I hadn’t smelled in ages. One I’d know anywhere, though.

Clay.

I reached for Cain’s wrist, yanking it away from my eyes.

There we were.

In a pottery studio.

It was a long, narrow space, with both walls lined in minimalist shelving holding premade clay figures you could paint and have them fired for you.

But it was the set of six wheels in the back that had my heart leaping for joy.

“I booked four hours. I figured you might want to get a jumpstart on all those mugs you need to do. While I work on a what I am sure will turn out to be a very lopsided bowl.”