reflection of the sky smeared against the ebony finish of a grand piano.
Adeline is in Italy by now, her Instagram account updating with photos of pasta and gondolas, of balcony views from the expensive suites her husband insists on staying in.
Grant Cabot is as high end as they come. I’ve often looked at the photos Adeline already posted and wondered how her younger self, who’d dreamed of backpacking across Europe while staying in hostels, is enjoying the privileged life she’d once detested.
It doesn’t matter. I have a job to do, and if I don’t leave now, I’ll miss my mark.
Slipping on my jacket, I grab a burner phone to slip in my pocket, my real one vibrating against the wood of a side table.
I know better than to check it. Know I should walk away and not worry about whatever it is she’s posted.
So close.
The door is open.
My keys are in hand.
I am halfway out when I curse beneath my breath and turn back.
Grabbing the phone, I swipe my thumb across the screen and hit the icon for the tracking app.
Trying new things!!!
It’s a photo of her dinner, a thin slab of meat lying over what looks like potatoes and asparagus.
Adeline is a vegetarian.
At least, a month ago she was.
A growl rattles my chest to see that, already, Grant is changing her into someone I don’t know.
Tossing the phone, I step out the door.
It doesn’t matter.
It can’t.
So why the fuck does it?
Two Months Post Marriage:
Mount Everest!! So scary! I can’t imagine climbing to base camp, much less the top!
My jaw clenches, eyes studying an image of the infamous mountain from a view safely tucked inside a luxury hotel.
Adeline is in Nepal, their tour of Europe and Asia two thirds finished. Slamming my thumb to shut off my phone, I slip it in my pocket and lift my eyes to meet Lincoln’s areyoufuckingkiddingme stare.
“So scary? She said so scary. Can you believe that shit? She wanted to climb that fucking mountain less than six months ago.”
His brow arches. “And let me guess, you would have donned a snow suit and climbed it as well?”
Heights never bothered me. And what if she slips while scaling the ice? Someone will have to catch her. The mountain is a fucking graveyard. Adeline is just insane enough to attempt something so stupid.
Lincoln shakes his head at my lack of response, his thumb tapping against his glass of scotch.
Around us, Dulcetta is in full swing again, women slowing as they pass our booth, most likely waiting for an invitation to sit down that they won’t get.
Taking a sip of his drink, Lincoln swallows and sets his glass down far too carefully.
“You need to take another job.”
I lean against my seat, running a hand through my hair. “You wouldn’t happen to know of any open contracts in Nepal, would you?”
Laughter shakes his broad shoulders.
“You’re fucking hopeless, Ari. Seriously. Get over this shit before you lose your damn mind.”
It’s too late for that.
But I won’t admit it.
Three Months Post Marriage:
This is getting fucking ridiculous. It may have been the amount of time she’s been gone, or maybe the distance, that is setting me so on edge, but I can’t stop myself from interrupting whatever I’m doing when my phone buzzes with a new post. Sometimes at the most inconvenient times.
Pulling out my phone to see what crap Adeline or her new husband wrote now, I roll my eyes at the litany of cutesy fucking emojis next to a status written by Grant.
Can’t believe it’s almost over. Tomorrow we return home to begin real life again!! Can’t wait for the flight.
The photo is of Adeline peering out across the distance, a scattering of stars framing the silhouette of her face against a clear night sky.
They are in New Zealand, their flight back to the states scheduled to take off in fourteen hours. To say I am thrilled she’ll be home is an understatement that fills me with both excitement and dread.
Nudging the guy next to me, I ignore the way he flinches when I show him the screen.
“What kind of man uses so many emojis? Seriously? A little plane, a heart, and what the fuck is that? Water drops and an eggplant?”
“It’s a reference to sex,” the guy says, his eyes dancing between the phone and my face, his body flinching again when I jam my gun tighter against his head.
I turn off the phone, look at him and sigh. “Makes sense. Probably some bullshit reference to joining the