“All this smooching,” Mona says, rinsing out her bowl and loading it into the dishwasher. “You’ve come a long way since Jeremy. Wasn’t that the guy who was your first kiss at our middle school dance?”

“I was her first kiss,” Ezra says, pride in the smile he aims at our friend. “Shows how much you know.”

Mona’s mouth drops open. “You two turds!”

We all laugh, and my phone rings. Piers.

“I need to take that,” I say, wiggling out of Ezra’s grip. “Hey, Piers. Thank you again for all you did today. I won’t forget it.”

“Oh, yeah.” He clears his throat. “That. Just doing my job. There’s some, uh, new developments.”

I frown. “It was good intel, right? Colson’s company—”

“Oh, yeah. The intel was accurate. I actually have more on him where that came from we can use when the time is right. No, there’s something else I need to discuss with you.”

I glance over at Ezra, who I can tell is barely listening to Mona. He keeps looking over at me, every glance a simmering flame I can’t wait to turn up all the way once Mona leaves.

“Maybe we can talk about it Monday,” I say, my eyes locking with Ezra’s in an unspoken, but absolutely clear message. “I think I’m busy tonight.”

Ezra nods in decisive agreement.

“Okay,” Piers says. “But I think you’ll want to hear what else I’ve learned.”

I force myself to focus, dragging my gaze from Ezra’s tall frame. “More dirt?”

“Uh, yeah. You could say that. It’s…well, it’s dirt, yes.”

“You can give me all you got on Colson on Monday, Piers.”

“It’s not dirt on Colson.”

“Then who’s the dirt on?”

“Your father,” Piers says, drawing an audible breath. “The dirt’s on your dad.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Six

Ezra

“You still mad at me?”

I force myself to focus on Mona. Through my kitchen window, I can see Kimba sitting on the trampoline in the backyard. She’s been on the phone for twenty minutes, and based on her expression, it’s not good news.

“Huh?” I ask. “Mad at you for what?”

“Busting up in here when you obviously wanted some time alone with Kimba.”

“I always want to be alone with her,” I say absently. “I’ve had to get used to sharing, though I’m still not very good at it.”

“I don’t mean to beat a dying horse,” Mona says, sipping the last of her beer, “but this won’t be as easy as you think. You’ll be asking Noah to adjust to not only the fact that you’re no longer with his mother, but that you’re now with someone else.”