**Part 2**

We left the Harbor House without dessert.

Olivia didn’t speak in the car. She sat with her hands folded тιԍнтly in her lap, staring out the window at the dark water as the restaurant lights faded behind us. My father’s jacket still smelled faintly of the place—garlic, candle wax, and the sharp edge of Brandon’s cologne.

I didn’t push. I just drove.

When we pulled up outside her apartment, she finally turned to me.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “For all of it. For him. For the water. For ruining the night you saved two hundred dollars for.”

“You didn’t ruin it.”

“I threw water on my ex-fiancé in the middle of the nicest restaurant in town.” Her voice cracked on the last word. “People were filming. And he meant what he said about Monday.”

I shut off the engine. The quiet of the parking lot settled around us.

“What happens Monday?” I asked.

Olivia looked down at her hands. “He works at Whitmore. Big development company. They’re buying the building my café is in. June’s lease is up in six weeks. Brandon’s been on the team handling the acquisition. He told me last month—before we started talking more—that if I was ‘nice,’ he’d make sure the new owners let June stay. If I wasn’t…” She swallowed. “He said the café would be the first thing they cleared out.”

I was quiet for a moment. “And the nursing thing?”

“I was in school. Two semesters left. He told me to quit. Said he didn’t want a wife who came home smelling like hospital. I left the ring on the table and finished the semester anyway. Then the money ran out.” She laughed once, short and tired. “He likes reminding me I didn’t finish.”

I reached over and took her hand. Her fingers were cold.

“Liv.”

“I know what you’re going to say. That I shouldn’t have thrown the water. That I made it worse.”

“I was going to say I’m proud of you.”

She looked up, startled.

“He sat down at our table, insulted you, filmed you, and told you to pour his water like you still worked for him,” I said. “You didn’t let him. That matters.”

Olivia’s eyes shone under the streetlight. “It won’t matter on Monday when he calls June’s landlord.”

“Then we deal with Monday on Monday.”

She studied me for a long second. “You’re not even mad that I ruined the dinner?”

“You didn’t.” I squeezed her hand. “I got to sit across from you in a nice restaurant. I got to watch you stand up for yourself. And I got to wear my dad’s jacket. That’s more than two hundred dollars usually buys.”

A small, watery smile touched her mouth. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Probably.”

She leaned across the console and rested her forehead against my shoulder for a moment. I stayed still, letting her breathe.

When she sat back, she wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. “I should go in. June’s opening early tomorrow. She’ll want to know what happened.”

“Want me to come with you?”

“Not tonight.” She opened the door, then paused. “Ethan?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for not telling me I was stupid.”

“You weren’t.”

She nodded once, like she was trying to believe it, and got out. I watched her walk to the building entrance, yellow cardigan pulled тιԍнт around her shoulders. At the door she turned and lifted a hand. I lifted mine back.

Only after her light came on upstairs did I pull out of the lot.

My phone buzzed as I turned onto the main road. A message from Victor.

*He asked about you after you left. Wanted your last name. I didn’t give it. But he’s going to keep digging. Thought you should know.*

I stared at the screen for a moment, then set the phone down and kept driving. The old jacket creaked when I shifted in the seat.

Monday was still two days away.

But Brandon Pierce had no idea who had been sitting across from Olivia tonight.

And by the time he figured it out, it would already be too late.