Yusuf’s mouth dropped open. I mouthed sorry at him.

“Change of plans?” Kaori asked coolly.

“I thought the three of us could use a getaway,” I said behind her. “You know. An hour locked in this car with no escape, with no one else eavesdropping on what’s said in this safe space.”

After a second of spinning calculations, Kaori sat down inside. Before either of them could change their minds, I scooted to the front of the car. I stayed in the driver’s seat even though the AI nav took the wheel, tires squeaking over the pavement of the garage and onto the road outside.

“Thanks, Dad,” Kaori deadpanned.

“Don’t make me turn this car around.”

“Could you?” Yusuf asked.

The awkward silence warped time into an unnaturally long half-hour that had me wondering if sticking myself between them had been a mistake. Until Yusuf spoke up to tell Kaori that he just wanted to be useful. Because why else did she bring him here? Kaori didn’t have time for this kid-gloves bullshit, she said, not when Yusuf was acting like an infant because he wanted to be in charge and didn’t want to answer to her.

Their sighs rustled through the car as I played marriage therapist with my leading questions. And how does that make you feel? Kaori, what do you think about that? Kaori managed to save the eye-rolling and sarcasm, softening as Yusuf told her that he didn’t resent her. He didn’t want to be in charge. But with the most complex piece of technology they could ever dream up in their hands, he wanted to think bigger, like she said they would when she convinced him to join her here. Like, grand unifying theory big, instead of gazing at an uncertain future.

Flat red earth stretched out on either side of the road.

“Let’s meet in the middle,” Kaori said. “We have the resources now. Let’s consider this a partnership of two research divisions. You take the past. I take the future.”

I dragged them to a bowling alley instead of our usual Mexican restaurant because I’d wanted them to have something to do with their hands in case they were itching to strangle each other. Yusuf was so bad at the game it was almost sweet, with him rocketing balls into the gutter. Kaori’s shots knocked single pins off the edges of the frame, until I could see her spinning calculations on angles and force behind her eyes. Halfway through our first pitcher of beer, the ice thawed between them. Kaori scribbled names on the back of a pint-glass ringed napkin, both squabbling over staff like they were drafting some fantasy sports league. Fine, you take Nazar but I’m getting Vasquez.