Page 47 of Mirror Image

“Oh, God. Please don’t tell me what you did.”

“Nothing illegal,” she said breezily. “Anyway, it’s you, me, Naomi, and this girl named Nantucket—yes, seriously. Then Izzy, a surfer dude from Puerto Rico. Martin, gap-year Harvard Law kid. And Richard, who seems like a walking middle finger. Our guide is Leo. He’s—well, you’ll see. Very seeable.”

Despite myself, I smiled. Watching her rattle the names off like trading cards was . . . weirdly endearing.

“I think this is the happiest I’ve ever seen you.”

Her shoulder lifted in a small shrug. “Yeah. Maybe. I just—I really wanted this. For so long. Didn’t know how I’d make it happen,” she said, voice dipping softer. “I, uh . . . really appreciate you using your tuition reimbursement so we could come. You didn’t have to. I didn’t expect—”

“Sam,” I interrupted gently. “We’ll figure it out.”

Her eyes flicked up to mine. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’re not alone anymore, okay? You’ve got me.” I paused. “We’ve got each other.”

She held my gaze for a beat, something warm and surprised crossing her face.

“Yeah,” she murmured with a tentative smile. “I guess we do.”

Chapter Seventeen

Jenn

Friday afternoon

“So how did you leave it?” Gabe asks, echoing the same question he asked after Braithwaite first called me back home in New York.

“Well, I met her, and I did my best to earn her trust. Now it’s up to her.”

“I wonder how Kellogg and Braithwaite are going to feel if they brought you in and she doesn’t even agree to meet with you.”

I shrug to myself in the car. “Not my problem. She’s a grown woman; no one can force her to undergo treatment if she doesn’t want it. We don’t even know for sure that she needs it.”

“‘We’ who, exactly?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is ‘we’ you and Julian? Or you, Julian, and Kellogg? Or are you doing the ‘royal we’ now?”

“What are you getting at, Gabe?” I ask, starting to feel a little grumpy about the direction this conversation is headed. “Like it or not, it is me, and Julian, and Kellogg. That’s what I signed on for.”

I hear him sigh. “Point taken,” he agrees. “I’m just worried about you. Don’t want you getting too comfortable around those people. Leopards don’t change their spots, Jenn.”

I start to argue, then stop. Maybe he’s right. But if Julian Braithwaite hasn’t changed, I need to find out which way his spots still run.

“I’m headed out to meet Ruth for lunch,” I say, trying to get us back on neutral ground.

It works.

“Ruth! I love that woman. You tell her our guest room is waiting any time she wants to come up for another visit. And that I’d like a rematch on poker. She took three hundred bucks off me last time she was in town!”

I happen to know it was more like five but don’t press the point.

“I’ll extend the . . .” My thought is hijacked by an unexpected laugh.

“What?” my husband wants to know. “What’s so funny?”

I shake my head, grinning as I pull into the spot next to a gleaming black Lexus.