She wrinkled her face, deciphering what he meant, and it dawned on her when she glanced back at her screen. “What, this?” She reached for her mouse, aimed her cursor, and with a single click, she shut the whole show down. “I didn’t break my promise. It has nothing to do with Donna Mehan.”

He cocked his head. “Well, what does it have to do with?”

“As if it’s any of your business,” she shot back. “I am still entitled to some privacy, yes? No? You tell me, Simon. Do I need to consult you before I look into the specifics of my high school reunion?”

This. He wasn’t expecting this. “What? Reunion?” He shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s nothing. This year is my high school’s twenty-year reunion.”

Dumbfounded, he stared at her. “And? You’re thinking about going?” It was impossible to hide his sarcasm.

Clare shifted in her seat, her chin raised a fraction of an inch. “Maybe, I don’t know. I was just looking into it.”

He closed his eyes and took a very long and deep breath. It occurred to him, and not for the first time, that he quite possibly didn’t know his wife, and most successful client, at all. He had no idea what to say to any of this, couldn’t find the words to explain to her something that seemed obvious to him and yet she, repeatedly, seemed to fail to understand. She was Clare fucking Collins. What exactly did she think was going to happen if she RSVP’d to her high school reunion?

This wasn’t why he’d come in here.

He opened his eyes and found her staring back at him. “I came to see if you’d come with me into the city. One of my other clients has a signing at City Lights Books.”

“Which client?” she asked, something like jealousy coloring her tone.

“William Cleary.”

Clare rolled her eyes. “That wordy windbag?” She rotated her chair so she could get up from behind her desk. “Have fun.” She walked over to the couch, and Charlie, who was now standing on his hind legs, his head peeking over the back of the couch, was eagerly awaiting her attentions.

“Yes, well, your personal opinions aside, I was hoping you’d come with me.”

She picked Charlie up under his front legs, his back legs squirming until she cradled him on his back. Bending her head low, she loudly kissed the side of his face. “Who’s the best dog ever?” she cooed. Charlie licked her cheek several times. “Charlie is. Charlie’s the best dog ever.”

The dog, clearly in heaven, looked adoringly up into his mother’s face.