“I’ll get you a plate,” he says.
“Aww.” I slap his butt without thinking.
Then I remember where I am.
“Oops,” I say, as his siblings giggle from the doorway.
Breakfast is actually nice.
We’re tucked into a private room with big windows and soft light. The kind of place where everything feels curated and expensive but still warm. I laugh at something Hannah says, and when I glance at Graham, he’s watching me.
Not in a creepy way. In a soft way. A hungry way. Like he still can’t believe I’m sitting here with him, in his world, laughing with his family like I belong.
Graham looks relaxed.
He also looks delicious, which tells me he drank way less than I did.
I’m halfway through my second mimosa when—
“Oh my god.” Hannah is staring at her phone.
“No phones at the table,” Aurora says lazily, wearing sunglasses indoors and sipping her coffee.
Hannah ignores her. “Oh my god. This is—oh my god.”
“Hannah, the phone,” her dad says, though he winces like he partied almost as hard as his wife did.
“No, look at this,” Hannah says, suddenly pale.
The table goes quiet.
“There was a woman kidnapped on the streets of New York a few weeks ago.”
My stomach tightens.
Hannah looks up at us.
“No one knows who she is. No one knows who took her.” She swallows. “She’s just… gone.”
A heaviness settles over the room.
I glance at Graham.
He’s gone completely still.
There’s no expression on his face.
Not surprised. Not confused.
Just… frozen.
And suddenly, in the back of my mind: panicked scrabbling…
Oh.
Oh shit.
40
