I’d never scrutinized my responses so much in my life, and I’d never deleted so many, either, and I did that one.

Me: I just want to get this over with.

That should have been one to wind up trashed.

Me: That came out wrong.

Juliette: No, no, I get it.

I waited to see if she’d type again, and when she didn’t, I tossed my phone on the passenger seat. I was never one to feel the need to have “closure” at the end of talking over text, but this felt unfinished, and I didn’t like it. I groaned and picked up my phone, doing another new-to-me thing.

Me: Is there anything I can do for you before we meet tomorrow? Anything I can do to help?

Juliette: Yes. Please cancel your Amex. I think he has a backup screenshot of your card.

I smiled. That he does.

Me: Yes, ma’am.

Me: Have a good NOC shift.

Juliette: And you know a night shift is called NOC because . . .?

Because, like Izzy, I also knew how to use Google, and I looked it up this morning. I really am losing it. My whole fucking mind.

Juliette: I’m kidding (you don’t need to answer that).

Thank God.

Juliette: Have a good day (and night) doing whatever it is that you do. ;)

I hearted her message as my only answer and took off from the garage before I said something stupid I couldn’t delete and take back this time.

She had no idea who I really was or what I did. What if when she found out, she didn’t want me in her life or our son’s? That thought nearly sent me colliding with the car that’d abruptly stopped in front of me.

I forced myself to take an indirect route to get to my place. One that avoided driving past her home. If I were to roll by their place, I’d wind up parking. Going up those three steps to her building. Then I’d find myself at her front door, confronting a pissed-off sixteen-year-old who thought I was trying to trade sex for his freedom.

Once home, I spent two hours working out in my gym while I tried to work through my problems. Afterward, I went to the building where the rave was being held, hoping to get a feel for the place. The factory was still empty, but I assumed a crew would soon be converting it into a club-like setting.

I spent an hour there, committing every detail to memory, from the entry points to the fact that the fire escape ladder on level three was missing seven feet of steps at the end.