So it had been three full days when, as requested, she stood at the entrance to his building, thinking, Maybe I’ll just leave it. Maybe I’d be better off without him in my life; without any of them. She thought she might not press the buzzer, that she ought to turn and walk away. Last week, in that brief window of having no phone, her life had been so peaceful. There was no one but herself to worry about. Maybe that was what she needed now, to focus on herself rather than get involved with these people. Even if they were, in turn, gorgeous, mysterious, and cute as hell. It was more than she could handle right now. The sensible thing—the healthy thing—would be to leave.

She could post the phone he’d given her into his mailbox. Imagine how freeing that would be. But despite the thoughts, her decision to go home, her feet didn’t move. Then, just when she was willing herself to turn away, the door buzzed and clicked open. The cameras, she realized, as she went through and toward the lifts. He must have been watching.

Gregor beamed from the doorway, welcoming her, delighted to see that she’d brought the violin. It was as if nothing had happened or—maybe better—that he’d forgiven her entirely and put aside his hurt feelings. He took her jacket, made her a drink, smiled warmly. While Constance rested in the bedroom, the two of them spent a delightful hour playing with Leonie, and when Constance appeared, she seemed cheerful, asked if Ruby would like to help with bath time. Later, as Leonie settled down, Ruby played lullabies. When the child was asleep, she played a soothing nocturne, mainly for Constance, who seemed tired by then but much calmer than before. As the bow moved across the strings, Gregor watched Ruby, his eyes full of admiration.

Finally, after Constance headed to bed, Ruby and Gregor were alone. Without the presence of either Constance or Leonie, Gregor’s demeanor changed. The temperature in the room seemed to drop. She glanced at him and caught a shadow of the awkwardness she’d seen the last time they were alone, right before she ran.

She sat next to him on the couch, cleared her throat. “Are you okay?”

He moved infinitesimally further away. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I wanted to apologize for what happened the other night.”

“Nothing happened, though, did it? So you’ve nothing to apologize for. Everything’s fine.”

She swallowed. His body language had shifted, his hands clutched together in his lap.

“It’s clearly not fine,” she said.

“I get it, okay? I’ve been friend-zoned.”

“No …”