“Cyrus is coming to pick me up,” she said. “Break in the case. Maybe.”

“So I gathered.” He sipped his wine while she sat at the table and slipped on her shoes.

“Not sure when I’ll be home.”

“You could just call the hotel,” Søren said. “Ask them if Kingsley’s in. He’ll take an emergency call from you, even if they are having dinner.”

“If he has a name for us, we’ll probably go and see them right away.”

“Of course. I suppose we’ll have to reschedule our evening plans.”

Nora winced. In her excitement over Cyrus’s phone call, she’d forgotten she and Søren were supposed to be having a date night. Nothing special. Nothing fancy. Indian for dinner—it was on its way now. A movie—The Third Man, Criterion Collection. Kink and sex afterward most likely, though maybe not. Maybe they’d just drink wine until they were sleepy, go to bed, fall asleep together like a normal couple. That’s what normal couples did, right? Like she would know.

“I’ll be back. If not, tomorrow night,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

He set his wine glass on the counter.

“You’re already used to it.”

“What?”

“Having time together.” he said. “In the past, every evening together between us was guarded, special. Now, if we don’t do it tonight, there’s always tomorrow night.”

She laughed a little, at herself. He was so good at seeing the why behind her what.

“Maybe so,” she said. “Kind of nice. Are you mad?”

“Not even remotely.” He picked up his wine glass again but didn’t drink. The way he said it, she knew he was telling the truth, but not necessarily the whole truth. “Maybe I’m getting used to it, too.”

She heard a car horn discreetly honk. Cyrus.

She rose up on her toes to kiss him. “I love you, Sir,” she said. “If you eat my korma, I’ll kill you in your sleep. Don’t watch the movie without me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

She left him in her kitchen, grabbed her bag, and ran out to Cyrus’s car.

“Sorry,” she said as she hopped in and yanked on her seatbelt. “Had to kiss Blondie goodnight.”

“Did I interrupt something?” Cyrus asked.

“Nothing that can’t be rescheduled.”

“You could have told me. We could have done this tomorrow.” But he was already pulling away from the curb.

“Let’s get it over with,” she said. “I have to know.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and they headed to the Ritz-Carlton, Cyrus’s foot heavy on the gas.

Even exceeding the speed limit by a healthy margin, it was a good twenty minutes to the Ritz. They were both tense, Nora could tell, and it made the quiet in the car heavy. Cyrus broke it with an inane question, the kind people ask when they’re nervous but don’t want to show it.

“You get your security alarm installed?” he said.

Nora smiled to herself. Such a man question. He’ll be asking if she’d gotten her car’s oiled changed recently.