“I’m going to nail him.”

“Why don’t you let someone else do it? Why does it have to be you?”

“Because it does.”

“That’s it?”

She shrugged. “Yeah.”

“What if I ask you not to?”

“Don’t.”

“Would it matter? If I did ask?”

“It would matter. And I’d take that in with me, and it’d throw me off. I want to be at one hundred percent when I confront that miserable excuse for a human being. So don’t send me in there dragging baggage. Don’t do that to me.”

“Is that what I am? Baggage?”

“What the hell happened between my house and here?”

He zipped the duffel. “Nothing. Not a goddamned thing.”

She grabbed his arm and spun him around to face her. “Are you mad that I didn’t say it back?”

“What’re you talking about?” he asked, his heart aching.

“You know.” Her tone softened as she raised her hands to his face. “Everything is so insane—the investigation, my psychopathic ex-husband, your loss and your job situation, my stomach…even the freaking holidays are bearing down on me. After what I went through with Peter, I’m different than I used to be. I’m more cautious. I haven’t been cautious with you, though, and that scares me.” She laughed. “It terrifies me, actually.”

“You have nothing to fear from me.”

“I know that, but I’ve screwed up so badly in the past. I need time, when I don’t have fifty other things on my mind, to think and to process everything that’s happened this week. I can’t do that right now. But if it helps at all, I can tell you I’m moving in the same direction you are.”

“It does help to know that.” He reached for her hands and brought them to his lips. “Will you promise me one thing?”

“If I can.”

“Will you spend Christmas Eve with me here? No matter what happens in the next few days, will you save that one night for me?”

“We usually go to my sister’s…”

“We can do whatever you want on Christmas Day.”

“All right.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” She went up on tiptoes to kiss him. “I can’t believe Christmas is Wednesday, and I haven’t bought a thing for anyone. What about you?”

“Not too many people on my list. I usually get something for Christina, the O’Connors, my dad’s twins, John…”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. About your family situation.”

“Don’t sweat it.” He shut off the light in the bedroom and led her downstairs.

She stood in the living room with her hands jammed into her coat pockets. “What you said earlier, about us living together?”

“Too much, too soon. I get it.”