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“Yeah, well, I’m making them. Take it or leave it.”

“Fine,” she says, thin as onion skin. “Fine. Whatever you want.”

“One more thing. I’m bringing someone.”

“Bringing—who?”

“My boyfriend.”

I hear her set something down. “You’ve been divorced for three weeks.”

“Yep. Sure have.” I put on my airiest voice. “Six o’clock, right? Can’t wait. We’ll be there.” I hang up before she can get another word in, and then I put the phone facedown on the shelf and hold onto the edge of the counter for a second.

When I turn around, Kane is watching me.

“Boyfriend?” he asks.

“It was faster than explaining.”

“Mm.”

I take a breath. “You’ll come, though?”

He looks amused. “It isn’t a holiday.”

“No. It isn’t,” I agree. “Which means it’s outside our deal. You don’t owe me it, and I can’t count it toward anything, and there’s nothing in it for you.”

Kane doesn’t answer.

“But I’m asking you to come with me,” I say. “Because… honestly, because I want you there.”

He looks at me for what feels like a long time.

Then he smiles and says, “Can’t wait. Just one question.”

I grimace, bracing for the worst. “Fire away.”

“Are you preparing the slideshow, or should I?”

32

DELILAH

The last time I stood on this stoop, my mother was screaming that if I walked out, I would never be allowed back in.

Six weeks later, here I am.

This time, I brought company.

I peek behind me to see Kane standing at my shoulder. His bulk, his warmth, his smell—I don’t know when or how it happened, but somehow, he’s become my safe space.

He’s the person I look for when I feel myself shrinking. Around him, I take up space without offering everyone an apology and a coupon.

Even when he’s not with me, his voice in my head makes me feel like a confident, braver version of myself.

Which is batshit crazy, obviously.

“Safe space” is not a phrase anyone should apply to a Bratva pakhan who once melted my deadbolt. It’s like calling a shark a flotation device because it lets you hold the fin.