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Her eyes narrow.

“Maybe.”

“Oh my God.”

“Relax. I'm not breaking into his house.”

Okay, that one might be a lie. I don’t plan to break into his house. But I’m spontaneous.

“Why doesn't that make me feel better?”

“Because you're a worrier.”

“You’re borrowing my car so you can secretly follow a hitman.”

“When you say it like that, it sounds weird.”

“It is weird.”

“It's romantic.”

“It’s absolutely not romantic.”

“We'll agree to disagree.”

Gracie points at me. “If he sees you⁠—”

“He won't.”

“If he does⁠—”

“He won't.”

“Callie.”

I lower my sunglasses and look at her. “Gracie. Look at me.”

“I am.”

“Do I look like Callie?”

“No.”

I smile triumphantly.

“You look like Callie committing insurance fraud.”

I push my sunglasses back up. “I'm choosing to take that as a compliment.”

“You shouldn't.”

I start the car.

Gracie steps back. The humor disappears from her voice. “Be careful.”

“I will.”

“Promise?”