Feeling offended that Sara had called Raphael immediately after calling him, he glanced down at his own phone. She hadn’t even left him a voice mail. She was clearly still angry with him. But it still made his blood pressure increase to know that the woman he loved was perfectly happy chatting with Raphael.

Raphael had sat up, and he said, “Hi, Sara, how are you?”

There was nothing as annoying as standing there only able to hear one half of a conversation. He should be talking to Sara, not feeling like a complete outsider, in that room of all places. He was ready to leave, wanted away from the bed, the dingy walls, the lingering smell of cigarettes and rot. He was standing right where Anne’s little table and his chair used to rest, and it made him frustrated in ways he couldn’t even describe or explain.

Raphael was frowning. “I told you I was moving out.”

It sounded like Sara was angry with Raphael too, which gave him a petty satisfaction.

“What? Who? Sara, calm down . . . no, I didn’t. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Hold on a second. Here’s Gabriel.” Raphael shoved his cell phone at him. “I think you should talk to her. She’s really upset and I’m not sure why.”

Great. Just great. They weren’t even supposed to know each other and Raphael had just blurted out that he was standing right next to him. He hadn’t given him any way to ease Sara into an explanation, but had just handed him a hand grenade.

“Sara? I’m sorry I just missed your call. Is everything okay? How are you?” Gabriel put his own phone in his front pants pocket and twirled the knife with his free hand. He had a bad feeling this wasn’t going to be a good conversation.

“Why the hell are you with Rafe?” she said. “You said you weren’t going to come to Florida! What the hell is going on?”

No. That wasn’t a good start. “I’m not in Florida. I’m still in New Orleans.”

“How can you be in New Orleans? Why is Rafe there? And how do you know each other?”

There was no easy way to explain their relationship or what was happening. So he stuck his hand in his hair and closed his eyes and said, “Um. It turns out we do know each other. I didn’t realize that because he’s using a different name now, but I just saw a picture of him and put two and two together. And I was pretty sure he was here in New Orleans, because I figured out he owns the house on Dauphine Street. Which is why I was okay with you going back to Florida, because I was almost positive he wouldn’t be there, but here. Therefore, you wouldn’t be in any danger from him.”