Right now his face looks very similar to how it had the first time he’d seen all the preliminaries that day we met. Like he’s taken a professional brow-furrowing class and like his mouth has had a turn-down service. He is laser focused. He would definitely notice if I stress-vomited.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I try, but I am as bad at moderating my voice as Reid is good at moderating pretty much every single thing about his physical presence. It sounds almost cartoonish; I half expect to blurt, I would’ve gotten away with it, too, if it weren’t for you crazy kids! next. My hands are clasped so tightly together, the braided-together fist of them backing off from where the program lies between us, as though it’ll burn my skin if it touches me.

But clearly Reid has no such reluctance. He reaches out a hand—a big hand, broad palm, long fingers, forget about the symbolism—and touches two fingers to the corner of the paper. I don’t look at him, but I’m hoping the pause is him rethinking this. I’m hoping it’s him deciding that what he saw isn’t really there after all. I don’t know what happened with him and Avery, but hey, breakups can be messy. You can start looking for all kinds of reasons things went wrong, right? Two years ago, Sibby developed an elaborate theory that the banjo player she’d been dating couldn’t commit to her because the banjo as an instrument has a “wanderer’s sound.”

It’s not a reasonable hope, though, not judging by the way Reid is staring down at the program. He is not the type—unlike me, I guess—to lie to himself.

“There’s a code in this program,” he says, still looking down. “A pattern.”

Oh, God. A half hour ago I was lamenting the end-of-day quiet in the shop, but now I’m so glad for it. If Cecelia heard this, if any shoppers heard this—God, if this got out on social media—I can’t imagine it’d do anything good for my career. Those conference calls where I’ve been making all sorts of professional promises I’m not even sure I can keep.

I can imagine, in fact, that it’d wreck everything.

“I—”