“Wouldn’t mind,” he says.

“I might move here.”

“If that’s what you want,” he says. “What kind of pizza is it?”

“Meat,” I say. “Ian, I am seriously thinking about staying here. Not here in your house. In town. Not going back to Manhattan.”

He hands me a plate. “I might be the wrong sounding board, because I obviously want you to stay. But you used to always talk about leaving. And just a few weeks ago you said don’t like being here. I know you worked hard to get to where you’re at. If you wanted to go back, we’d figure it out.”

“Things are different now. I’m different,” I say, picking at a chunk of sausage. “I want to be here. With Scarlett, my niece. With Ash. With you.”

“I can be anywhere you want me to be.”

I shrug. “Maybe this is home.”

“Well,” he says, “I’ve got a great room for you downstairs.”

I almost throw up.

“Ian?”

“Yeah?”

“I . . . I can trust you, right? I can trust you?”

“Yes, Aurora. You can trust me,” he says.

He resumes eating his pizza, like this declaration is no big deal. I wait for him to ask me follow-ups, but he doesn’t. He looks at me and waits.

“And you trust me?”

“Yes,” he says. No hesitation. Just like that. Yes.

“Okay, well, I . . .”

I can’t do it. I can’t tell him. Not right now. Later. Another time. Anytime other than now.

“Well, I’m glad we’re in agreement on that,” I say.

“Same,” he says. “Only, one small thing. You lied.”

“What?” I ask, suffering a hot wave of anxiety that promptly soaks my back in sweat.

“I know you didn’t make this pizza. It came in a box that said ‘Salvatore’s.’ ”

“That is a bold accusation,” I say, climbing across the table to get to him. I slip behind him, drape my arms over his shoulders, press my mouth to his neck. “Very bold.”

—

“I got sick just from smelling it,” I tell Scarlett.

We’re downstairs on the couch, and she’s got her feet up on a stack of pillows that blocks my view of the TV. I just got back from Ian’s, and now I regret not staying at his place. The mood around here is tense.

“Might be worth trying,” she says.

I told her I got the wolfsbane tonic from a vendor online. She didn’t ask too many questions. She doesn’t want to talk about werewolf stuff. She doesn’t want to talk about anything.

“I’m worried it’s going to fuck me up.”

“Then don’t take it,” she says. “Or just take a little. Maybe ask about the side effects. I don’t know, Rory. I don’t know.”

It’s a real toss-up at the moment who’s the scarier sister.

“All right. Can Matty pick Mom and Guy up from the airport tomorrow? If I do try the tonic, I don’t think I can drive.”

“Fine,” she says. “Wait. You’ll be okay to come to the hospital, right? If I go early?”