“I’m not certain. It’s close to the description, but I don’t know enough about this to really say.”

“Hmm.”

Seth studied it and then slipped it back into my purse. We rode for a few more minutes in silence until I finally asked, “I was never that bad of a fan, was I? That crazy?”

“Oh, God, no,” he said. “Absolutely not. You were charming and cute and—” He abruptly cut himself off, but those words hung in the air between us. “You—you weren’t like that. Nothing like that,” he managed at last. There was a husky tone to his voice, hinting of some emotion but refusing to reveal which one it was.

I’d meant my comment to be light, just a way to keep the conversation going. However, like everything else lately, the words had ended up triggering far more meaning than I’d intended. I had a flashback to when Seth and I had first met, when I hadn’t even known who he was. I’d rattled off my feelings for my favorite author, little knowing I was actually talking to him. Unlike Mary, I hadn’t stalked him on the Internet and known what he looked like.

Seth cleared his throat. “So . . . what will you do with the picture now?”

I ran with his change in subject. “Get someone to identify it, I guess. Erik, maybe. Or Dante.”

More silence fell, and I felt the tension ratchet up. Dante. Once again, harmless words had triggered big consequences between us. I expected Seth to try again to shift the subject, but instead, he actually addressed it.

“It’s weird . . . seeing you with Dante.”

“Don’t you mean it’s weird seeing me with anyone?”

“Well . . .”

Even with my eyes on the road, I knew he had that thoughtful, slightly distracted look in his eyes that meant he was pondering how best to phrase his next words. I used to love that look. Now I was on high alert.

“Yeah, to a certain extent, of course,” he finally admitted. “It’ll always be weird. But every time I talk to him, I just think . . .”

“If you say that I can do better, then I’m pulling this car over right now.”

“Um, no. I was just going to say he doesn’t seem like your type.”

“That’s nearly the same thing,” I pointed out. “You sound just like Hugh and the others. I’m getting so sick of this! Honestly, it doesn’t matter who I date. You’re never going to be happy.”

“That’s not true,” said Seth. “It’s just . . . when you’re around him, you’re darker and more cynical. You’re not like you used to be. This sounds stupid, considering what you are, but you’re . . . well, you’re a force for good in the world.”

“Oh, come on,” I said.