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to come over and play tomorrow morning.”

“Mom, can we?” Clay jumps up and down.

“I don’t know why not,” Alana says as she ruffles Clay’s hair. “He hasn’t had many friends outside of his brothers in a while.”

“Perfect,” Kelly says. “My boys are bored with their summer activities, so this may work out for both of us.”

“Here, have a seat,” I point Kelly and Alana to chairs in the kitchen, and we watch the boys run around and enjoy themselves.

We sit for a little over an hour, and there are a lot of tears among the boys.

“We’re all a little jet lagged,” Alana explains.

“We should go,” Kelly says. “If it gets too hard to come over in the morning, don’t worry about it. And the time isn’t hard and fast. Whatever works for you.”

“Thank you,” Alana tells her.

They hug again before Kelly gathers her boys and leaves.

Despite it being mid-afternoon, I order pizza, and the boys have an early dinner. By five thirty, everyone—even Alana—is in bed, and I finally get all the toys picked up just as my phone pings with a text.

Mia: Still up for dinner tonight?

 

Me: Why don’t I take you out? The kids and my sister crashed early.

 

Mia: Don’t worry about me. We can try another time.

 

Me: I’d like to see you.

 

It surprises me a little, but I really do mean that. I want to spend time with Mia, and not just between the sheets.

 

Mia: Sure. What are you in the mood for?

 

Me: You.

 

Mia: We could order in takeout?

 

Me: No, let’s go out. We can make it a proper date. There’s a great Italian place in North Beach.

 

Mia: Why don’t Peter and I meet you there in about an hour?

 

Me: Perfect. It’s Gio’s Trattoria. See you then.

I arrive about twenty minutes early and head to the bar. It’s quiet and peaceful here, unlike my house has been all day. There’s no telling how long Alana and the boys will stay asleep.

I order a glass of Johnny Walker Blue Label—a splurge, but after the day I’ve had, I need it.

I feel Mia’s presence before she touches me. “Hey, handsome.” She kisses me on the cheek.

“Hi.” I stand until she sits down. “How did it go today?”

She shrugs. “It was what we expected. I think Viviana’s attorney found out I’m not as easy of a witness to manage as she thought, though.”

I smile. “I probably don’t know you as well as your friend did, but I’d never think of you as a pushover.”

The hostess approaches and walks us to our table. I feel like everyone is turning to look at us, and I can’t blame them. Mia looks stunning and almost regal as she moves through the restaurant.

“Tell me more about today,” I suggest once we’re seated.

She takes a deep breath. “It really went fine. And at least no one leaked my testimony like they did last time.” Her drink arrives, and she takes a sip of her wine. “How did it go for you?”

“Wait—I want to hear more about this leaked testimony, but to answer your question, it took my sister three hours to get through customs with the boys. It was a little hard to contain them, I guess. The kids were tired and wanted to stretch their legs.”

Mia nods. “Customs lines are never forgiving of that.”

“No, and she was by herself. She’s exhausted. I think she’ll be sleeping for a week.”

“So, I’m guessing the wedding isn’t going to work for you next weekend.”

“I’m still planning on it, but I don’t know. I told my sister about it this morning, but I guess it depends on how well the kids do adjusting to the local time and how my sister’s holding up.”

“I’ll understand if you need to stay here. It’s a wedding, so it’s not a big deal—”

A man approaches our table. He’s wearing a USMC baseball cap. “Excuse me. Are you Mia Couture?”

She shuts the menu in front of her and looks him in the eyes. “Yes, I am.”

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” he sneers.

The hair on the back of my neck stands up, but Mia just clasps her hands in front of her.

Peter immediately approaches and asks the man to step back.

“It’s because of you that Cecelia Lancaster is dead,” the man yells, pointing his finger at her. “You disrespected a United States Marine, and he’ll be hunting you.”

I stand up, panic in my throat. What is happening? This guy is attracting too much attention. “Man, you have no idea. She and Nate Lancaster are good friends.”

He shakes his head. “You know what they say—keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

The manager comes over and escorts the man out.

The woman he was with throws a bunch of cash on the table and glares at Mia. “You’ll be in jail soon,” she scoffs.

Mia opens her purse and puts a hundred-dollar bill on the bar. “Maybe I should go home.”

“Wait. You don’t need to leave. We can still enjoy dinner,” I scramble.

“Let the bitch leave,” another man says. “You can do better than her chink ass.”

“Racist asshole!” I turn to give the guy an evil look, and when I look back, Mia and Peter are on their way out the door.

I finally catch up to them outside. “Wait. Mia, please!”

Peter keeps moving, but she stops and looks at me with tears running down her face. “I’m sorry. I’m not very good company tonight. Can I take a raincheck?” She can’t even make eye contact.

I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut and my heart is racing. None of this makes any sense. “Sure. But we can go back to your place

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