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“You think that’s just a coincidence? Maybe he did it on purpose?”
Mike shook his head. “If this was a television show, sure, that might be the case. But here it’s just a guy changing a lightbulb. The police have talked to him.”
“What about the times when the photos were posted? Did they check the footage for those times, too?”
He nodded. “The café was closed for all of them. The room is dark.”
“The cameras were on then?”
“Yes, and you can see the computers enough to know they’re unoccupied.” He was patient with her questions. He understood them. And the frustration that prompted them. They were questions he’d already asked himself.
“So...maybe whoever set up the accounts saw the guy changing lightbulbs and purposely chose that time to set up the accounts, at least.”
“It’s possible.” He bowed his head toward her and then took another sip.
“There’s nothing more on the creeps at the beach, either,” she said and shivered. “I think I’m ready to go inside.”
* * *
MICHAEL STOOD IN the living room of her condo, nearly empty glass in hand. He filled her space.
With himself. His essence. His kindness.
With exactly what she needed in that moment.
“Bo always seemed to take up space in here,” she said aloud.
“Have you heard from him?”
“Yeah. Pretty much every day. He’s convinced that I just need time to process what happened, to get over it, as he says, and wants me to know that he isn’t going to hold me to the breakup. He wants me to know he’s waiting for me.”
Michael’s frown almost made her smile. It was so great to have a champion. And such a big, strong, smart one at that. “What did you say?”
“That I didn’t want him to wait. That I was sure I’d made the right decision.”
“And are you sure?”
It was just a little past ten. The night was young.
She sat down on the couch. Tucked her feet up beside her butt. “Completely,” she said. “I think I’d known for a while that I didn’t love him and wasn’t going to love him, but I loved how he really tried to support my life change. I think that was what I was clinging to.” That and the fact that he fit her type—pretty Hollywood boys who were all wrong for her.
Setting his glass on the coffee table, Michael sat down on the other end of the couch. On the edge. His elbows on his widespread knees as though he was ready to push off.
She wasn’t ready to go to bed. To have her sleepover end so soon.
“We should do more of this,” she told him. “Like, when you’re in town on business, you should come here for dinner. Or you can even stay over when you have early-morning meetings.” Why hadn’t she thought of that before? “I can give you a key...”
He pulled his head back slightly, and she realized that what she’d said could seem a bit of a shock. Except that she and Lacey had been opening their home to friends ever since they’d had one...
And then she realized something else. She’d just offered him a key after refusing to give one to Bo.
Without any trepidation at all.
He looked at her for too long. She couldn’t figure out what he was searching for but hoped he found it. He had nothing to fear from her. Or worry about, either. If he didn’t ever want to be seen with her in Beverly Hills again, if being with someone whose very presence drew attention was too much for him, that was okay. They’d continue to meet in private. Or at Little’s. She was his friend for life.
When he shook his head, she started to worry. He seemed to have reached a decision and he didn’t look happy.
He looked like he was going to leave. And she didn’t know why.
