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The second the front door shuts, he’s on me. His fingers unbutton my coat, and his lips ravage mine. My hands shoot to his hair. He drops my jacket to the floor of the foyer. I tear at his shirt, ripping it up and over his head.

We are animals. We are ferocious.

And we don’t make it far. Matthew makes love to me on the wood floor of his foyer, just out of reach of the front door.

Later, we make it to his bedroom, but only by stumbling and fumbling the entire way.

It’s been like this between us for the last week.

A comet set on fire, streaking across the sky at a thousand miles per hour.

Consumed by each other in every moment we can find.

When dusk falls, the cocoon breaks. It’s time for us to emerge into the real world. Matt is working at the hospital overnight, and unbeknownst to him, I have my own job with the Royals.

Ironically, the first time Matt notices my carefully selected lingerie is when I’m strapping myself back into it.

“This is nice,” he says, tracing the cups of the lace brassiere. “How did I miss this?”

“You were otherwise preoccupied,” I say with a laugh. “And to think, I picked it out special for you this morning.”

“I’m looking now. ”

Once we’re presentable, we leave his apartment, hand in hand. Matt walks me to the streetcar stop, even though it’s in the opposite direction of his route to work.

“Which way are you boarding?” he asks. It seems an innocent question, but the Academy is one direction and the bayou another.

I hesitate.

“You’re not going home, are you?”

He’s being clever with his words, but I know what he’s really after. He wants to know where I’m going this late at night.

So I tell him. Kind of. “No, not home. I’m meeting Abe in the bayou.”

“And…someone else too?”

I nod. “Yes. Someone else too.”

I can tell from the frustration in his eyes he wants to say more, but he bites his tongue. I also catch the tiniest flash of pain across his face. It’s enough to stab my heart.

“Be safe then,” he finally says.

“I will.” The lie tastes bitter, so I chase it with a shot of truth. “Hey, Matt?”

“Yeah?” His lips part softly. The streetcar rumbles in the distance.

I unbutton my coat and tweak the lace strap of my lingerie. “I wore this for you today. No one else. You understand?”

His sweet, sunshine smile breaks through the clouds on his face. He’s easy, so very easy, to make happy. I wish I could stay here with him all night, to keep doing exactly that.

But the streetcar waits for no one, least of all me.

Before I climb aboard, Matt hooks his pinky with mine, stretching for one last point of contact.

When he looks at me like this, standing there with the light of the sun shining through his earnest blue eyes, it’s on the tip of my tongue to blurt out three very dangerous words.

I vacillate, wondering what would happen if I said them. If I was brave.

I’ve always thought of myself as brave. Wolves are brave, aren’t they? I always thought so.

But in this moment, I’m not brave at all. I’m a coward. Once I say those words, there’s no taking them back. And there’ll be no going back either. I free my pinky and wordlessly climb aboard the streetcar, waving to Matt as we pull away.

I get off at the familiar bayou stop and go straight to the loft. With some dismay, I note the night turning foggy, the air damp. The deteriorating weather feels foreboding, especially since I won’t be in my usual black suit tonight. Not for this job.

In the privacy of the master bedroom, I braid my hair and wind the plaits around my head. I secure a red wig on top before shedding my clothes. I step into a pair of jodhpurs, and over them, I pull on a long skirt.

I’m busy selecting a matching bodice from the closet, upper half clad only in lingerie, when Paul walks in. Ordinarily, this wouldn’t warrant a reaction, but today, it sends my heart careening guiltily through my chest. Paul sees the lace before I can cover it.

He drags out a low whistle. “You wearing that little number for the benefit of the doctor? Because judging by your reaction right now, it sure as hell isn’t for me.”

“Maybe I’m wearing it for myself,” I answer, beginning to remove my rings.

“Yeah right, Kat. At least have the decency to shoot me straight. I’m not an idiot. And I told you it was okay. You can do whatever—and whoever—you want.”

I don’t answer and keep removing the rings, saving his for last. When I turn, he hands me my gloves. Elbow-length and white for the job tonight.

I pull on the left one, but before I can do the same with the right, he snatches my hand and kisses my finger. Right over my red tattoo.

“You never have to hide this from me. Can you say the same about him? ”

“Paul, don’t do this. You promised you wouldn’t.”

“I won’t.” He steps back. “We need to go. But he’s never gonna know your whole story, Kat.

He’s never gonna know you like I do. And he’s sure as hell not going to be able to give you what you need.

Not forever. I just wonder what your grand plan is.

You think you can tell him everything and then live happily ever after? ”

“No.” I yank my hand back and pull on the glove. “You don’t think I know that, Paul? God.”

He’s quiet for a minute, watching me closely. I can never hide from Paul, and the longer he stares, the more convinced I am he can see straight through me.

“Please, Kat.” His eyes are sad. “Please don’t fall in love with someone else. Not while I’m watching from the sidelines.”

I don’t answer, can’t answer. Instead, I gaze into the mirror and hurriedly brush light makeup over my face.

“You ready?” Paul asks.

I continue staring into the mirror, uncertain. The woman gazing back at me with long scarlet hair…she looks suspiciously like my mother. I swallow, tilting my head this way and that, watching her move. It’s eerie. I consider changing the wig but decide against it.

Ghosts only have the power we give them.

“Yes, I’m ready,” I finally answer, breaking eye contact with the woman in the mirror.

“M’lady.” Paul extends his arm and sweeps me from the loft with Tony and Abe on our heels. He’s holding his posture so foolishly erect, I laugh.

“Gentlemen don’t really walk like that, you know,” I tell him.

“Well, it’s like I always tell you, Kat—it’s a damn good thing I’m not a gentleman then.”

Paul and I stroll the streets of the riverfront district arm-in-arm, playacting a wealthy couple out for a late-night stroll. Tony and Abe keep to the shadows, slinking behind us. When we’re directly around the corner from the Magpie’s dock, we halt, checking for onlookers in the darkness.

There are none.

Abe has my satchel slung over his right shoulder. Paul pulls off his gentleman’s coat, revealing working-class clothes underneath. Before he drops the jacket, he pulls two glass beer bottles from the oversized pockets. Tony holds two more.

“Is everyone ready?” Paul is focused only on me.

I nod, not trusting my voice.

“Kat, I won’t let anything bad happen. I promise.” He takes my white-gloved hand and kisses it, then bends over to brush my lips.

“You got your knives?” Abe asks me.

“Yes. I’m ready.”

“Off you go then, Kitty-Kat,” Paul whispers.

I take a deep breath, step around the corner, and let out a bloodcurdling scream.