Mindy wraps her arm around Piper’s shoulder.
“Can we leave now?” Piper asks.
“No,” Mindy says.
“Yes,” I say at the same time.
Mindy glares at me and then softens her expression for Piper. “I can’t leave quite yet. Let me find Ally, though, and maybe I can—”
“I’ll take her home.” What am I doing?
“No.” Mindy shoots more daggers at me with her eyes.
Piper squeezes her arm. “Mindy, it’s fine. I’ll see you at home.” They exchange a look, some wordless communication passing between them.
Mindy’s mouth thins into a line, but she nods. “Fine. Text me as soon as you’re home.”
“Promise.”
I take a few steps away and wait while Piper hugs her sister. Then we’re winding through the throng, weaving around clusters of people. I glance at her periodically, making sure she’s still nearby.
I’ve seen Piper thin and fatigued when she first left Ben. I’ve seen her in her pajamas, ready for bed. I saw her casual in my offices earlier this week. I’ve never seen her like this, wearing a dress that reveals every dip and curve, her hair pulled up on top of her head in an artfully arranged twist, exposing the delicate lines of her neck.
The sighting of Ben clearly freaked her out initially. But now the set in her jaw is stubborn and determined. We reach the front, and I motion for her to precede me toward the line of cars along the curb, resting the tips of my fingers on the small of her back, not quite touching.
Brienne is standing outside the car, and she salutes as we approach, opening the back door.
“Hey, Miss Piper. Nice to see you again.”
“Thanks, Brienne.”
We slide into the back seat, and within moments, we’re on the road. The interior of the car is dark and quiet. The window between the back seat and the driver is shut. It smells like leather and cologne, but every now and then, I catch a thread of Piper’s perfume. Something light and fresh and fleeting.
She gazes out the window. I take a slow, deep breath. Silence doesn’t bother me. I can handle it better than most people. In fact, I use it habitually to gain the upper hand and get others to speak when they otherwise wouldn’t. Most people can’t handle sitting with someone and not speaking. Me? I’ll never crack.
“Your studio is ready.” For the love of all that’s holy, what is wrong with me? What is it about Piper that turns me into a nattering moron?
Her head turns. “What?”
“Your new space. It’s ready. Did you want to see it now? You could make sure it meets all your specifications and let me know if there are any modifications required.”
She stares at me, the seconds stretching between our gazes. I lock my jaw. This time, I will not blurt out my every bleeding thought.
After an eternity, she speaks. “Okay.”
“Okay,” I repeat.
I never repeat the last word people speak. It’s a useless habit. Clenching my shut, I face forward.
Once we’re in the parking garage on the bottom floor of the building, I tell Brienne we’ll call her when Piper is ready to go home. Then I lead Piper over to the section of the garage that’s been converted into a separate room.
“Coded entry,” I tell her as I’m keying it in. “Right now it’s 1010, but we can change it if you like.”
“It’s fine.”
I push open the door and flick on the lights. She follows me inside. We stand side by side, staring at the room.
My heart thuds. “Will this suffice?”