“Too late. Done.”

“You got reservations for Odessa’s on a Saturday?”

His brows arched. “You think I don’t know how to get a table at a popular restaurant? You forget who you’re talking to, my dear.” He set the tray between us as he climbed in. “Dropping your mother’s name helped.”

“I’m sure it did. She likes you, you know. For me, I mean.”

“Good. Though I was on my best behavior that night, which may have skewed the results.”

“I don’t think so.”

Our eyes met. He nodded. “Good.”

I spread preserves on my toast. “She wants me to invite you to the spring regatta.”

“Rowing? Are you competing?”

“I…” A shrug. “I’m out of practice, so it’ll be strictly a social function for me.”

“There’s still time. Consider it a challenge. Get yourself whipped into shape by spring.”

“Are you going to show your support at 5:30 a.m. practices?”

“Absolutely. From the comfort of my bed, I will be cheering you on wholeheartedly.”

I laughed and took a bite of toast.

“I’ll come out when I can,” he said. “In return for breakfast afterward.”

“Sounds fair.”

“And you can tell your mother I would love to come to the regatta. I’m sure it will be a”—a sly grin my way—“glittering affair.”

“Uh-uh. As my guest, you are forbidden to steal from my mother or any of her friends. I’ll show you who you can steal from, provided a portion of the proceeds go to a charity of my choosing.”

“A finder’s fee?”

“You got it.”

“Fair enough.”

We ate for a few minutes. My paper rested on my tray; his on his lap, both still folded as we perused the lead articles, as if reluctant to open it and make that commitment.

“I made a few more calls this morning,” Karl said.

“Did you phone Lucas? Did he say—?”

His glower cut me short, reminding me that we were leaving that aside until after breakfast.

“A couple of months ago, I talked to Jeremy about relocating.”

It took a moment for me to understand what he meant. The bubble that was keeping last night’s reality at bay also blocked any reminder that we were anything other than two ordinary people.

“Changing my territory,” he prompted.

“Right, yes.” As a Pack werewolf, Karl was allowed to hold territory. The others shared New York State. By choice, he got Massachusetts—a reflection on both his independence and his reluctance to fully join into Pack life.

“The calls I made today were inquiries into a couple of condos in Philadelphia.”

He stopped there, and I had to replay his words before his meaning sunk in.

“You want to move to Philly? Relocate your territory to Pennsylvania?”

“Is that all right?”

“I suppose—I mean, yes. That’s all right. Just…unexpected.”