“Be good for Elena.”
“I always am.”
Marcus laughed.
“Debatable.”
I waited seven minutes after his truck left.
Then I got into Tessa’s car.
“You sure?” she asked.
“No.”
She started driving anyway.
We followed Marcus to a small coffee shop.
A woman was waiting outside.
Mid-thirties.
Tall.
Dark curls.
Cream-colored coat.
Marcus pulled in beside her.
She climbed into his truck.
My stomach twisted.
“There she is,” I whispered.
Tessa glanced at me.
“We still don’t know what this is.”
“I know exactly what this looks like.”
We followed them north.
Eventually, Marcus turned onto a rural road.
Then onto a gravel drive lined with maple trees.
At the end stood the farmhouse from the listing.
Marcus and Camille went inside together.
For nearly three hours, we sat in Tessa’s car down the road.
I tried to invent explanations.
Maybe she was an investor.
Maybe the property belonged to a client.
Maybe Marcus had been hired to renovate it.
Then the front door opened.
Marcus and Camille walked outside.
They stopped beside his truck.
Camille said something.
Marcus laughed.
And then she wrapped both arms around him.
He hugged her back.
My chest went hollow.
Tessa cursed quietly.
I didn’t cry.
That frightened me more than anything.
