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The night after the Hallows’ Eve party, I have an unexpected visitor. I’m brushing my teeth when Mellie shrieks in our bedroom, dithering by the window.

“Kat,” she groans, throwing her hands up in frustration. “It’s one of your boyfriends. I can’t keep them straight anymore.”

My heart hammers. I cross the room and pull the curtains.

It’s Abe, standing outside, giving me a shy wave. Since Mellie’s peeking over my shoulder, he waves to her too. A small salute.

“Oh my god!” She trips over herself and topples backward, landing gracelessly on her butt.

“He doesn’t bite.” I laugh at her and swing a leg out. “Just let me see what he wants. I’ll be right back.”

“Kaaaat,” she whines. “You know I hate it when you do this.”

“Right back,” I repeat, disappearing down the wall. I traipse after Abe to our copse of trees in the park.

“Hi, Kat.”

“Hi, Abe.” I cross my arms and wait. He usually only comes to pass along a message from Paul or to pick up intel after an event.

“So…” He sticks his hands in his pockets.

“So?”

“How was your party last night?”

“It was grand, thanks. Is everything okay with the Royals? ”

“It is.”

“So…?” I draw out the word. “What brought you here tonight?”

“I’m just…checking in with you.”

“Checking in about what?”

“Come on, Kat.” He rolls his eyes. “Paul wants to know how last night went. If you learned anything.”

“Couldn’t it wait until we meet at Farley’s later in the week?”

Farley’s is one of our frequent haunts in the bayou, a tavern where we go for drinks several times a month. The owner is a longtime personal friend, and in a similar manner to Ray, he allows us to use the back room of his establishment as a pitstop in our black-market trade.

“Well…I’m supposed to feel you out about something else too.” Abe looks embarrassed, and it’s then I realize why he’s really here.

“About Matthew?” My eyes narrow. “Did Paul have someone at the party? Were you there?”

“No!” He raises his palms in protest. “But Paul has more than just me for eyes and ears, you know.”

I’m silent. And my silence likely damns me.

“I see. I won’t tell him,” Abe decides with a nod.

“Tell him what, exactly?”

“You don’t have to do that, Kat. Not with me. It’s written all over your face.”

“What is?”

“You let him touch you.” Abe shrugs. “It’s fine.”

Anger flares. “Then why are you here, ‘checking up,’ if it’s fine?”

“ I said it was fine. I don’t care if you have the hots for the doctor. I’m not here right now to serve my own interests.”

“Well, if Paul has a problem with it, maybe he should drag his ass out of the bayou and come talk to me himself,” I say. “Better yet, maybe he shouldn’t be so quick to pimp me out for his next dream job.”

“Whew.” Abe exhales. “The two of you have a lot to talk about.”

“I just don’t understand why he’s suddenly so interested. Or why he thinks he has the right. He’s never cared about my Academy dates before.”

“Well, they’ve all been meaningless before. Or am I wrong?” Abe’s eyes are pensive, searching.

“I don’t know,” I mumble.

“If you let him touch you—which I can tell you did—I know I’m right. You’ve always cut it off before that point. You’ve saved that for only Paul and me.”

“Are you upset with me?”

“Of course not, Kat. You’ve never been mine. And you’d be bored with me within a week if you were. I’m honestly surprised the doctor has lasted this long. It means Paul’s probably right to keep an eye on him.”

On Tuesday, Paul stops by at the end of my work hours at Ray’s. When he arrives, I’m busy inlaying emerald snake eyes into the obsidian head of Cleopatra’s cobra ring. The elaborate collar has just recently been completed, after weeks spent troubleshooting a finicky box clasp.

While I work, Paul disappears into the stockroom with Ray. As he emerges, he slips another cash envelope into the interior pocket of his jacket. After Ray leaves, I reluctantly put my project away for the day.

I take a deep breath as we head outside together. “Abe stopped by on Sunday. On your orders, I presume?”

“I just sent him to check in.” He already sounds guarded; Abe clearly warned him.

“Right. About that.” I take another deep breath. “In the future, if you’re ‘checking in’ about my relationship with Matthew, maybe you should do it yourself. Abe is not the one with the problem. Abe is used to seeing me with someone else, and he’s fine with it. Apparently, you are not.”

“It’s not that I’m not fine with it, Kat.” He sighs. “I’m trying to understand. He’s just another mark…right?”

“You wanted me to get to know him, to find out about him and his family. You told me to do this, Paul. You don’t get to be irritated if I decide I like what I’ve found.”

“And do you?” he asks. “Do you like what you’ve found?”

“If you trusted me, if we were secure, you wouldn’t have to ask. Or send Abe to spy on me.”

“Kat, I’ve never asked you to be exclusive with me. Is that what you want? Are you testing me?”

“No, I’m not testing you. You know me better than that.” But he can’t have it both ways either—expecting me to blindly follow his orders, demanding all of me without giving all of himself in return.

“I can’t figure out if you want me to be jealous, or if you want me to ignore what’s happening altogether. What is happening, Kat?”

“I could ask you the same question,” I say, narrowing my eyes.

“What are you talking about?”

I tweak his jacket, right where the damning cash sits against his chest. “More Magpie tribute?”

“Yes, Magpie tribute from Craig. And from the Condors. The usual,” he lies smoothly.

I sniff and stare straight ahead. “You know what? Maybe I’ll be honest with you when you decide to be honest with me.”

“I am being honest with you. What do you think I’m doing in the bayou all week while you’re prancing around the school or off on dates with your new beau?”

“I don’t know what you’re doing, Paul, but it’s certainly more than the usual tribute payments and fleeces. Much more. ”

“I’ve raised prices. And they’re getting antsy with firearms again. I didn’t want you to worry, but I confiscated three guns off the Magpies this week and moved them through Ray.”

“On the black market? Where they’ll just trickle right back into the Magpies’ hands in another week?”

“Ray only unloads the guns to well-vetted customers.”

“Or so he tells you.”

“He knows what I expect.”

“He’s a businessman , Paul. He answers to the highest bidder.”

“We’re just gonna have to agree to disagree on multiple points today. I’m willing to shelve it if you are.”

“Fine.”

When we reach Farley’s, Paul asks me, carefully, about the Jekyll Island Club and Cherokee Cottage. We slip into familiar territory as I tell him the things I noticed about the structure, layout, valuables, and security.

“It’s not much,” I admit. “I wasn’t exactly able to give myself a grand tour.”

“It’s a good start.”

His response settles uneasily in my stomach, burrowing like a slithering snake.

November brings cold nights and crisp falling leaves.

Matthew and I alternate chaperoned and unchaperoned dates.

We continue the charade through the school channels every two weeks, but in between, I meet him all over the city.

We get dinner after his shift or take long walks.

Sometimes we go into Marino’s Bakery and sample whatever Mellie’s recommendation of the week is.

We can usually find a secluded space to be alone for a while too.

He doesn’t invite me to his apartment, and I don’t push for it.

I’m still seeing Paul on the weekends, even though I feel more and more conflicted by the day.

It’s getting harder to keep these two parts of my life separate.

One day blurs contentedly into the next until, suddenly, December and Christmas are looming.

The day before my birthday, I’m busy soldering the metal bases for a series of earring fakes in the back room at Ray’s.

Cleopatra’s near-complete cobra ring sits abandoned on a corner of my desk.

As I work, its accusatory emerald eyes burn into me, jealous with neglect.

“Kat.” Ray’s head pops in from the front floor. “Can you come out here? I need your help with a customer.”

“Sure.” I blow away the smoky residue surrounding my desk. Ray rarely pulls me onto the floor; I wonder what he needs my help with.

I wipe my hands on a discarded polishing cloth and push through the swinging door. Ray is bent over a far counter, talking to a male customer with blond hair. The man’s back is to me, blocking the counter. They’re in the diamond section. I walk over to see what they’re examining.

“Ah, Katarina,” Ray says. “Perfect. We need you to settle a dispute for us. This young man believes you’d prefer this pair of Old Mine-cut diamond earrings while I’m betting on the French-cut pair over here.”

“What?” I round the final corner in shock and look at the customer. I do a double take. “Matthew?”

“Surprise,” he says with a small wave. “Happy birthday, Kat.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Picking out your birthday gift. Well, really, you’re about to pick it.”

I immediately shake my head. “You’re not buying me diamonds, Matthew. It’s excessive.”

“Don’t worry, Kat. I’m giving him a friendly discount,” Ray chimes in, winking at me. “Since it’s for a special cause.”

I look back and forth between the two men, utterly mystified .

Matthew reaches over the counter to grab my hand, tugging me close. “You can have anything you want, but Ray pulled some options to get you started.”

Trancelike, I examine the velveteen board. There are five pairs of diamond earrings. As usual, Ray’s taste is flawless, but I shake my head again.