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“Absolutely,” the woman replies. “Can I get you anything else? Mr. O’Leary made sure to tell me that he’ll cover anything else you wish to order.”

Ben shakes his head. “Thank you. We’re fine.”

“That was nice of him,” I say.

Ben’s expression is one of total shock, and I swallow.

“You think that was a bad sign?” I say, my heart rate picking up. I rifle through my memories and experiences to figure out why it would be bad that Patrick paid. “I always insist on paying half the check if I have a bad first date with a guy and I know it’s not going anywhere. I think it’s polite if you know you’re never going to see someone again.” Did Patrick know he wasn’t going to give us what we wanted, and that’s why he paid?

Ben’s gaze slides toward me. “Do these bad dates let you pay?” His heated expression sinks into me, and I wonder if he knows how much I miss him.

“Of course they let me pay. We’re not living in the nineteen forties.” I roll my eyes.

“If I took you to dinner, you wouldn’t pay.”

My heart stops and my stomach flips, and I want to slide my hand into his and ask him to take me to dinner as soon as we’re back in New York.

“If we went to dinner, I wouldn’t offer,” I say in a whisper.

THIRTY-ONE

Ben

As Bray drives us from Boston to the land he wants to look at, I stare out of the window thinking about Avril. She seemed nervous in the helicopter and a little off at lunch. I wanted to ask her if she was okay. But I resisted. And it took everything I had to put her in the car to take her back to New York. It was so good to see her. I wanted to draw out our time together and hang out, but that’s not going to happen. I’m emotionally impotent and she’s focused on the Boston hotel. It’s easier in the long run to stay away from her. It’s what’s best.

Bray stops the rented SUV in front of large black iron gates. Either side is just trees and greenery. The gates seem a little over the top.

“Where are you taking me?” I say it as a joke, but by the end of the question, my mind flips to gambling and whether he’s involved with some dodgy stuff. Gambling brings visions of mobsters and heavies. Machine guns and drug dealing.

I glance across at him.

“No idea,” he says. “This is where the pin was dropped.”

The gates slide open and Bray shoots me a glance.

“I guess we’re going in.”

“It feels a little weird,” I say.

We make our way up a gravel track to an empty square lot surrounded by woodland on one side and a lake on the other. Is this a parking lot? Maybe it’s where the bodies are buried.

“Is this where you’re meant to be? There’s no one here.”

“I think⁠—”

Bray doesn’t finish his sentence as another SUV comes up the gravel track toward us.

“Are you meeting the owner or a realtor?” I ask. I’m glad I’ve come today. This is the kind of place people could disappear.

“Both apparently.”

The car parks alongside ours and a woman in her fifties in a dark green pantsuit and glasses pushed back onto her head gets out, alongside a man in jeans and a plaid shirt.

“Good morning,” the woman says, beaming. “So good to be out in this early spring sunshine.”

We all greet each other. Turns out Kaya is the realtor, and Erick is her dad and the owner of the land we’re standing on.

“You don’t have a realtor yet?” Kaya asks.