Ryner looks between us, trying to assess the situation. He knows we know each other, because I told him as much, but I presented us as old friends, not as complete fiends, which is closer to the truth.

“Do you guys need a second?” He sniffs his beaky nose, finishing off his cigarette and putting it out in a plant.

Christ, he’s a waste of oxygen. His mother needs to plant a tree for every day he lives.

“Yes,” Aurora says.

“No,” I snap at the same time.

There’s silence for a few seconds before I give Ryner half a shrug and make a show of turning back to the railing, parking my elbows on it, ignoring her.

“All right, then, lovebirds.” Ryner rubs his chin.

I can see him in my periphery, moonwalking backward to the doors, like the moron he is.

Aurora drops her voice once we’re alone. “In the contract, you said you wouldn’t care if we had significant others or spous—”

I cut her off immediately. “You mean eight years ago, when we were both fresh out of diapers? Come on now, Aurora. We were in love with the concept, not each other.”

Why is she even bringing this up, after everything she’s done and said? It’s like being wary of a blood test when both your limbs are cut off and your head is chopped, floating somewhere in the Mediterranean Sea.

Ship’s sailed, sweetheart.

I don’t bother looking at her. Instead, I stare at the ugly, soulless skyscrapers of Manhattan, reminding myself how much she loves them. And that just like all the ditzy girls I rolled between my sheets before and after her, she’s saddled with Instagram-inspired ideas and Photoshopped dreams. She lives a Pinterest-perfect life, and there’s no filter to make my life suitable enough for her reality.

“Okay…” she drawls, processing. “Just making sure you know I’m not going to honor that contract.”

“Excuse me while I go dry my tears with the one million euros I’m here for.” I finish my drink in one gulp and place the glass on the wide marble railing. When I turn to her, I have a pleasant, plastic smile on my face. I’d hate for her to think I actually care whether she comes or not.

“Won’t Kathleen mind me being there?” She plays with the hoop in her nose. “Considering our history and all.”

“Kathleen won’t mind.”

“Glad to see at least one of you grew up during this decade.” She twists the hoop in her nose some more. “And I would ask that Callum could come and go as he pleases while I stay at your house. We’ll be good guests and stay out of your way as much as possible, of course.”

“That’s fine,” I snap.