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"So this guy—your gaming buddy—turns out to be some secret billionaire who's been following you to clubs, and then he reveals himself at the convention and sweeps you off to his mansion?" Her voice is flat. "And you didn't think once to text me, other than that very cryptic text that you were okay?"

"I know how it sounds," I mumble.

"Do you?" Jenna leans forward. "Because it sounds like you're not telling me everything or dating a stalker."

I sigh, picking at the cardboard sleeve on my cup. "Look, I get it. He's intense. Maybe a little stalkerish if you want to call it that." I meet Jenna's eyes. "But we've been gaming together for two years, Jenna. Two years. I know the real him, not just some surface-level stuff."

Jenna's expression doesn't soften. "Online isn't real life, Kira. We've talked about this."

"I know, but..." I pause, remembering Ryker's hands on my skin, his voice in my ear, the way he seemed to know exactly what I needed before I did. "The chemistry was exactly the same in person. Better, even. It was like we'd been together forever. I couldn't help myself."

My phone buzzes again. I glance down to see another text from Ryker.

I miss you. Come home soon.

Something warm unfurls in my chest at the word "home."

"You're different," Jenna says. "There's something you're not telling me."

I take a deep breath. "I know this is crazy and fast, and you're worried. But I'm happy, Jenna. Happier than I've been in a long time."

Jenna's shoulders slump slightly. She doesn't fully buy my story—there are too many holes and unanswered questions. But I also see the relief in her eyes that I'm safe and sitting across from her again.

"You should meet him," I suggest, the words tumbling out before I can reconsider. Ryker and I hadn't discussed this. "Come over for dinner. Make up your own mind about him."

Jenna's expression shifts from concern to surprise. "You want me to meet him? Really?"

I nod, even as anxiety twists through my stomach. Ryker hadn't approved this. We have rules now—agreements about what I can share and who can know about us. But I need someone from my old life to see us together, to witness that there's something real between us.

"Yeah. This weekend maybe? He's a great cook."

Jenna studies me, suspicion still evident in her narrowed eyes. "And he'd be okay with that? Just like that? Me showing up?"

I swallow hard and glance at my phone. Another message has appeared.

I guess you’re still at the coffee shop. Everything okay?

Is he monitoring me right now?

The coffee shop has security cameras—of course he's monitoring them. This knowledge should terrify me, but it feels like being wrapped in a protective blanket.

"I'll ask him," I say, my fingers typing a response. "But I think he'll say yes. He knows how important you are to me."

That much is true. Ryker knows everything about me—my friendship with Jenna, our games as kids, and our college adventures. He'd extracted every detail during those "levels," leaving nothing private.

"Okay," Jenna says slowly. "If he agrees, I'll come. But Kira—" she reaches across the table and grabs my hand, squeezing it tight, "—if anything feels wrong, if you need help, you can tell me. Anything. I'll believe you."

The concern in her eyes makes my throat tighten. If she only knew what I've been through—what I've chosen.

"I know," I whisper, squeezing her hand back.

My phone buzzes with Ryker's reply, and I hold my breath as I read it.

Fine. Saturday at 7. I'll cook something suitable.

The terseness of his message tells me everything I need to know. He's not happy about this arrangement, but he's allowing it for me.

"He says yes," I tell Jenna, trying to sound casual despite the tension knotting in my stomach. "Saturday at seven?"