and my friends and my job. I would be keeping my heart to myself. But if spending time with Edward helped me work through the past, I might be able to move on, too.
“Is that a yes?” he asked.
I sighed. “I guess.”
His voice held a smile. “Your lack of enthusiasm is a challenge, Mackenzie Cooper.”
“Maggie Reid,” I corrected. This mattered to me. That said, I would only ever think of him as Edward.
“Maggie Reid, can I come over now?”
“Right now?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“I want to hold you.”
“No!” I said, but I was smiling, too. “That would muddy the waters. This isn’t about sex. It’s about our helping each other through a rough patch in a way that keeps the past just between us. No one else is to know. I mean it, Edward Cooper.”
* * *
The plan was sound. I remained comfortable enough with it to sleep better than I had in two weeks and wake up fully able to breathe. My contentment lasted through a companionable breakfast with Liam that included critiques of the Town Meeting, of Erica Kahn, and of his Morning Glory muffins versus Mom’s. I did not go to the pottery studio. I did call Kevin. I did not tell him about my pact with Edward; I knew the pros and cons, and didn’t need Kevin pointing them out.
I did tell him that I had to be at work at nine, also the truth. Hairstylists from all over New England were at the Inn for workshops on cutting, styling, and accessorizing. I would have liked to see the one on hair extensions, but with several hundred stylists and their models attending, we were in full Day Spa mode. Every treatment room was booked. Stylists called it research, but they loved being pampered. And makeup? Models needed it. Stylists wanted it. I had brought in an artist from Hanover to help. We had worked together before. Both chairs were filled from nine o’clock on.
The soundtrack today was little more than soft piano chords and the trickle of water, and the lemon verbena rising from candles was so light that only someone attuned to it might notice. I noticed. For me, it was the perfect, soothing backdrop.
Then Edward arrived.
The last of the morning applications was done, my coworker had taken off for lunch, and I was disinfecting the counters in advance of the afternoon when tall and dark appeared at the door. I felt a tiny quickening, but the expression on his handsome face discouraged it. A magazine was loosely folded in his hand.
People.
My eyes flew to his. Their silver-blue was solely in the here and now. “Bad?” I asked and, reaching forward, silenced the speakers.
He put a hand to the back of his head. “If that soothes, you may want to leave it on.” He came toward me.
“Tell me, Edward. Is it?”
“That depends on how you define bad.” Ducking in, he kissed me full on the lips before I could retreat.
“Edward,” I whispered with an uneasy glance at the door, which remained ajar.
“Just so you know I’m with you.” He stepped back but didn’t hand over the magazine.
I swallowed. “Okay. So, I’m imagining the worst here, like there’s some surprise reveal about Chris, or the government has decided to go after Grace. I don’t need suspense, Edward. If you’re with me, help me out. What does it say?”
“Not much, textwise. It’s a recap of what’s been in other articles, plus a larger perspective on teenage hacking. The problem is the photos.” With a cautionary bob of one brow, he handed over the magazine. “Page seventy-eight.”
I flipped through until I was there, and instantly saw what he meant. The entire right third of the right-hand page, top to bottom, displayed a trio of photos taken in the lobby just outside the courtroom in Rutland. The focus was on Chris and Grace, but Jay was in each one. So was I.
“Oh hell,” I whispered.
“For what it’s worth, you look great.” When I shot him a quelling look, he added, “I know, not the issue.”
“It actually is,” I said. “I don’t want attention drawn to me. All it takes is one person seeing something familiar and snooping around and my cover is blown. Am I named here?”
“No. You look like Jay’s assistant.”
“I was trying for that,” I replied, all too clearly remembering that moment and how exposed I had felt.
“Your worst problem is probably Shanahan, but he already knows—”
“Maggie,” came a high-pitched voice as Grace barreled over the threshold and came to an