"I called Nina's shop looking for you because you weren't picking up, and she said — and I quote — your boyfriend is still here and he looks like he could bench-press the porch. End quote. What is happening."
"He's from HPG. The security company you hired."
"I know who I hired. I hired someone to check your locks, not move in."
"He's doing a full assessment. He says the property's a disaster."
"The property is a disaster. Why does the neighborhood think he's your boyfriend?"
I press my thumbnail against my teeth. "Because he walked outside this morning and Nina drew conclusions and Oren drew a dinner invitation and I couldn't get a correction in edgewisebecause Oren moves at the speed of a man who has already decided what reality is."
Silence. Then: "Is he cute?"
"Del."
"It's a yes-or-no question."
"It's an irrelevant question. He's a security consultant. He installed my deadbolt and told me my windows are a liability."
"Romantic."
"I'm hanging up now."
"Don't you dare — I'm calling HPG."
She hangs up first.
I stand in the kitchen with my phone pressed to my chest, looking at the ceiling medallion I haven't cleaned yet.
"He's not my boyfriend," I tell it.
The medallion offers no opinion.
Not long after, I'm stress-cleaning the kitchen counter for the second time when Liam appears in the doorway.
"We need to talk," he says.
Nothing good has ever followed that sentence. In the entire history of English-language communication, those four words have preceded exactly zero pleasant conversations.
"About?"
"Vance called. Your friend called him."
"Del."
"She explained the situation. The neighborhood's assumption."
He's leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed — his resting state. Not hostile. Just contained.
"We're going to use it," he says.
"Use what?"
"The assumption. That I'm your — " He pauses. The pause is physically painful. " — boyfriend."
The word comes out of his mouth like he's defusing a bomb and the boyfriend wire might be the one that detonates it.
"Vance's recommendation," he continues. "A cover story explains my presence without revealing the threat. If the neighborhood thinks I'm your partner, no one questions why I'm here. Why I'm checking locks. Why I'm staying."