There was a long silence.
Sebastian managed a half-smile. “You realize this means I have to tell Harper.”
Ethan raised a brow. “You haven’t?”
“We’ve worked on the investigation together,” Sebastian admitted. “She knows most of the story, but I’m not sure if she knows everything.” He paused. “I’m not sure she could forgive the things I’ve done.”
“She might.”
Sebastian looked down into his coffee.
“Maybe…” Sebastian trailed off, voice low. “She shouldn’t find out from a headline. I’ve done a lot of stupid things, but if I’ve got any shot at being someone different now, I can’t let her think I was playing her.”
“You weren’t.”
“I know,” Sebastian said. “But does she?”
They sat in silence again, the kind that buzzed just a little louder than comfort. The early light poured in through the high windows, gilding the mess with morning absolution.
Ethan finally broke the quiet. “So. Are you going to talk to her?”
Sebastian drained his mug and stood. “Yeah, I need to before it’s too late.”
Sebastian walked toward the staircase, then paused.
“Ethan?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re a good person.”
Ethan didn’t look up from his phone. “Tell anyone and I’ll ruin you with a meme.”
Sebastian smiled.
He’d been many things. A fixer. A flirt. A liability in designer shoes.
But maybe, just maybe, he could be something else now.
And maybe it started with telling the truth.
26
Just Don’t Lie to Me
The park bench sat beneath a canopy of old oak trees, tucked away from the main walking paths where joggers and dog walkers might overhear. Harper was already there when Sebastian appeared, carrying two iced coffees in a cardboard tray. His usual tailored appearance had been replaced with something deliberately anonymous—a dark hoodie, faded jeans, and the kind of careful anonymity that made him look less like a viscount and more like someone trying very hard not to be recognized.
Harper watched him approach, two iced coffees in hand. He’d texted her an hour ago with a cryptic “Need to talk. Bringing caffeine as peace offering,” and the unusual formality had put her on edge.
“You look like you’re attending your own funeral,” she said as he sat down, accepting the coffee he offered. Her long blonde hair was down today, framing her face—a rare departure from her usual tightly pulled-back bun that gave her a softer, less guarded look.
“I was going for a vibe,” he replied. “Melancholy minimalist. Orquiet panic,” he replied. “Whichever sounds more like a man about to emotionally unravel.”
Harper gave a thin smile. “Well, you’re nailing it.” She studied his face, noting the genuine worry there. “You said we needed to talk. What’s the emergency?”
Sebastian stared out at the empty path ahead. “I talked to Charles.”
Harper’s body went still, though her expression remained neutral.