I put away my phone and headed out of the Complex, already eager for Spenser to be there. The thought of going home would be so much better knowing she would be waiting for me at the end of the day. I almost turned the FJ toward McCormack’s but decided to get home and finish unpacking to make the house presentable for Spenser. She wasn’t particular about anything but her men and her guns, but I didn’t want her thinking I was down again. She worried about me too much as it was. That was probably why she was coming so soon after I left.

I perched my arm on the open window frame, letting the smoke-laden air blow through my hair, chewing on my thumbnail, letting my mind wander until the moment I saw a black Maybach parked in front of my new house.

The FJ revved before I cut the engine. I stepped out, crossing my arms and staring at the sad man sitting on my porch.

“There are two things wrong with this. First, the Maybach is not going to win you points with your constituents. You should be driving a Ford Hybrid. Second, you shouldn’t be here. You’re lucky someone hasn’t called the media.”

Peter lifted his head. If I hadn’t dreaded the empty house the whole drive home, I would’ve made him leave, but by the look on Peter’s face, he didn’t want to leave, and I didn’t want to be alone.

Peter and I had lived a few blocks away from each other our entire childhoods through high school, but we might as well have lived on different sides of the world. He had that Montague appeal, even though I was no Juliet. Our fathers hated each other, so we did what any kids would do: we snuck around, we were our first kiss, our first everything, we drank and smoked together, woke up in one another’s arms and defended each other when we got caught. The more they tried to keep us apart, the stronger our bond grew.

“Please don’t send me away,” he said.

I walked past him, into the house, leaving the door open. I searched the cabinets, knowing I hadn’t been to the grocery store yet. “I don’t have anything to offer you except pretzels and a half-drank bottle of Fiji from the drive over,” I called to the door where Peter stood. “I just came home to change.”

“Can I come in?”

I stepped out into the dining room, meeting Peter’s gaze. “Tell me why you’re here first.”

“To see you.”

“Why else?”

“That’s it.”

I frowned. “What would Paige say if she knew you were here?”

“She’d probably leave me,” he said, his shoulders sinking.

“If it makes you so sad, why did you agree to hire my team?”

“I told you—”

“And you lied.”