Rafe is under the mistaken belief that he has tasted good pizza since he had some in Naples where “pizza was invented.” So I have no choice but to set him straight with real New York pizza, which we eat on a bench in Central Park. Then, because we don’t plan to move forward with our plan until nightfall, we wander around the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

I’ve been to the Met countless times, but now it’s with new eyes. I see the foundations of Maker life chronicled in the Renaissance art. Rafe gets very worked up about one Raphael painting that he says is absolutely a forgery, as his family has the original hanging in their home in Avant. I steer him to the modern art section so he doesn’t make a scene, but there he quickly loses interest.

“Ada, this has been lovely, but I’m fatigued and want to rest up for later. I’m going to go back to the hotel for a nap. Why don’t you stay here? You’re clearly having a good time, and there’s so much more to see.” He doesn’t give me a chance to respond. He lifts my hands to his lips, brushes a kiss across my knuckles, and says, “I’ll see you later.” And then he’s gone.

I can’t help but feel disappointed. I didn’t want to go separate ways. I was having a nice time together. I continue to explore on my own, my enthusiasm deflated. Why did he even suggest coming here if he was gonna ditch me?

Then it hits me. Like a truck through a red light. What time did the receptionist say her shift was over? Four thirty? It’s four forty-five now. Of course he’s horny after weeks of not getting any while pretending to date me. I feel sick to my stomach. And angry. Before I can think about what a bad idea it is, I’m storming back to our hotel.

I crash through the door to our room, ready to let my anger burn hot, but what I see stops me cold in my tracks.

Rafe looks up sharply, shocked by my entrance. He is indeed with the receptionist in an intimate embrace, but not in flagrante delicto, as I had expected. They are both shirtless, but I assume that’s for the practicality of cleanliness rather than anything else. Rafe sits on the bed, and she is draped over his lap. I’m pretty sure she’s unconscious.

And then there’s the blood. Lots of it.