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“You do all the right things,” she whispers, lips framing each word.

Suddenly, I feel like I have an abundance of beginner’s luck. Teri brings me luck.

You can’t do this, my internal watchdog warns.She’s vulnerable right now. She’s crying about how a man used her for sex—amongst other things. You can’t offer her sex. That’s curing the problem with the problem. Right?

Therese doesn’t seem to think so. She rests her head on my chest with a weary sigh. “This isn’t in your job description.”

“My job description binds me to your family forever. I have longed to be a friend and ally. I could only dream of being something more,” I rasp.

“Then... then what I want probably isn’t fair. Maybe you feel like you have to say yes, because of some ancient, sacred pact,” Teri whispers, leaning her cheek to my chest.

“For you—I feel as though I would break any pact, but because of who you are, I don’t have to. Forever faithful to you... Forever protecting you...” I rock her side to side, as I have rocked many a crying child, but this time my heart isn’t heavy with grief. My mind skips ahead to an improbable future where Reggie andTherese Gray have their own little place in some little town, it doesn’t have to be this one, and we hold each other just like this. Kids’ toys, laundry, and dishes clutter up the background of my imagination. Some men would flinch. I feel whatever passes for blood start racing in my cold veins. “It’ll be okay,” I mutter, half to her, half to myself.

“Hm? What?”

“Wh-whatever you want me to do would be okay. It wouldn’t break a pact. Even if it did, I wouldn’t care. Have you heard the verse, ‘whatever isn’t of faith is sin’?”

“Maybe?”

“With you, nothing could ever be wrong. Not for me. Of course,” I pull myself out of the warm haze of hugging her, of feeling her press more deeply into my chest and snuggle in my arms, “of course, you haven't said what you want.” I cough. “I might be making assumptions. I’m not good at this.”

“Not good at it, or haven’t tried?” Therese looks up at me with one eyebrow cocked, challenging me in a friendly way.

“Both?” I don’t know for sure what she’s hinting at. I can hope, but...

“You don’t know that you can’t do it unless you try to do it first. You should know that, with all the crazy things you’ve said you’ve done.”

I like the spitfire that comes back into her voice and her eyes when she argues with me, even in her gentle, teasing way. I counter, “Maybe what I want to do isn’t something Icantry.”

“Such as?”

You. Being with you. Making love with you.

“Is it private? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t pry.” She begins to wriggle away, and it feels like my soul is tearing.

My arm locks around her waist. “Being in a real relationship, not something fake. Something that lasts longer than a two-day charade. Something special. Something physical. But not likeDelgado’s version of physical. Something real,” I whisper. If she can be scared, so can I.

“Ah. Real.” Therese’s eyes slide away. “This is a sham. A sham with an expiration date—and two weeks is the extreme end.” She turns back to the stove, putting butter in the pan. “Should have gotten olive oil.”

That’s not what I meant. I drop my hands back to my sides, tempted to walk away.

We do not run. We are a wall, a protection for our people.An ancient command holds me in place, and I feel energy soar through me, peace in its wake. This isn’t a mistake—and I don’t back away from fights.

REGGIE STANDS BEHINDme, not touching me any longer. Iwanthis touch. At the same time, it’s not fair to tell him I could be what he wants—that real, permanent, physical lover—and then leave him in the dust.

“This could be real. If you want it to be,” Reggie's voice is soft as he hovers. “Maybe they call you tomorrow, maybe they call you next week, or next year. No one saidIhave to leave.”

“But it’s— I mean, I can’t pay for a bodyguard for that long.” How am I ever going to pay him back for what he’s already done?

“Not a bodyguard. A boyfriend. Husband, according to some.”

My mind is blown. Why would he do that? Am I a project for him? Something to cross off his list? The thing that makes him more “human” than clay?

Do you care?

“I—”

I stop as a faint buzzing attracts my attention. My cell phone? Could it be Matteo? I’m not supposed to talk to Matteo. I’ve blocked his number. I don’t want to talk to any of my friends orfamily and put them in danger. All they know is that I left Matteo and filed for a divorce a few months ago.