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The rest of the dinner passes without any further drama.

After, outside the restaurant, the night is cold and clear. The others leave in pairs, still discussing schedules and follow-up intervals. Maggie stands a little apart from them, arms folded under her coat, hair loose around her face.

A car pulls up for Dr. Lawrence.

Baines says goodnight to me, then to Maggie with noticeably more caution than he used at the table.

She smiles politely. “Goodnight, Dr. Baines.”

The moment he turns away, her smile drops.

I step beside her. “You enjoyed that.”

“I did not.”

“You did.”

“I enjoyed parts of it.”

“The parts where they became uncomfortable.”

“That is such an ugly way to describe education.”

I almost smile.

She looks up at me, and for a second the irritation in her face softens into something else. Something private. Then she looks away first.

“Your car coming?” I ask.

“Petra arranged one.”

“Cancel it.”

Her eyes return to mine. “Excuse me?”

“I’ll drop you.”

“You’re very comfortable giving instructions.”

“Yes.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Cancel the car, Maggie.”

Her mouth tightens, but she takes out her phone. “Only because I was going to do that anyway.”

“Of course.”

She taps the screen, cancels the ride, and slips the phone back into her coat pocket.

“Straight to my apartment,” she says.

“Of course, my lady,” I say. I open the passenger door for her.

She looks at it, then at me.

“What?”