Walking down the stairs, I’m very aware of the edge of the knife at my thigh. Lights are on in the living and dining rooms. The table is set for three, and I can smell food cooking in the kitchen. I’m about to go in there when the door opens and a woman in a uniform steps through carrying a bowl of salad. She’s clearly startled to find me standing there, and I wonder what I look like when it takes her a minute too long to take me in. I look down at the dress, which I think is casual. It’s a simple fitted T-shirt dress. But her expression is strange.

“Are Amadeo or Bastian here?” I ask.

“Yes, they’re in the study, Mrs. Caballero.”

Mrs. Caballero. I’ll have to get used to that.

“Thanks,” I say, and when she points the way, I head toward the study. I hear the rumble of their voices as I approach and don’t bother to knock before opening the door. The brothers turn when they see me. Amadeo leans against the wall by the window, and Bastian sits on one of the leather chairs. Eyebrows rise and they exchange a glance, and again I’m left wondering what’s wrong. I touch my hair, tamp it down. Is it that? Does it look strange? It frizzes and gets huge at a drop of moisture in the air.

“Dandelion,” Bastian says, standing. “Nice to see you up and about.”

I enter and close the door behind me. “When do we leave for New York?” The sooner we go, the sooner I’m back for Emma, and the sooner this is over. I want nothing more than to be free of all of this. To leave everything behind and go forward.

Forward to what?

My throat tightens, and it takes me a minute to collect myself. Amadeo is studying me. He’s the more serious of the two. “How do you feel?”

“Can you never ask me that again?” I see the tumbler of whiskey on the desk and pick it up, drinking it all down. I don’t actually like whiskey, but I need something tonight. I feel off. Strange.

“You should maybe eat something before you drink, Dandelion,” Amadeo says, taking the tumbler from me. My lipstick stains the crystal. He eyes me. “Makeup?”

I shrug a shoulder. “Just lipstick. I always wear it. It makes me feel like myself.”

“Does it?” he asks.

Bastian is on his feet now too, and I look between them, remembering the time in the library. My stomach flutters, and I feel my neck and face heat because I want it again. I want to feel them both. I need them both.

“When do we leave?” I ask again, looking slightly over Amadeo’s shoulder rather than at him.