Avery scrolled through the texts and found a link to Forbes magazine’s 2019 list of wealthiest Americans. The Ratcliff clan held several spots. Natalie Ratcliff’s husband, Don, was worth $1.4 billion and the posh apartment at One 57 suddenly made more sense to Avery. Natalie’s father-in-law, and the longtime CEO of Ratcliff Enterprises, held a healthy $3.5 billion net worth. Avery looked up from her phone, took a sip of coffee, and contemplated her far-fetched idea about Natalie Ratcliff and her friend, Victoria Ford. As she mulled the possibilities and worked to connect the dots, she spotted Walt walking along the sidewalk toward the entrance of the restaurant. Out of his running shorts and sweaty shirt, he wore khakis and a dressed-up T-shirt. He had the build of a man who kept himself in shape, and she noticed again how attractive he was. Not for the first time this weekend, Avery wondered what the hell she was doing.

“I’m sorry?” the waitress asked.

Avery, suddenly aware that she had spoken her thoughts aloud, cleared her throat. “Oh, nothing. Sorry. Actually”—Avery turned over the coffee mug opposite her—“my . . . breakfast mate just arrived.”

Breakfast mate?

The waitress smiled and poured from a carafe of coffee she carried. Avery emptied two cream containers into Walt’s coffee and stirred as her mind continued to run. She had come to New York to procure a falsified passport from the man she had been put in touch with named André. The only person—she was told—who could be trusted for such a task. André didn’t have the greatest bedside manner, Avery had been warned, but she should trust him explicitly, and listen to anything he had to tell her. She had come to New York under the ruse of chasing the story of Victoria Ford. Both projects were now in full swing and would command much of her concentration. And yet here she was, starting a relationship with a man who lived in Jamaica and who came back to New York once a year to exorcise the demons that still haunted him from a previous relationship. If there was ever a playbook for failure, Avery was following it. Still, she couldn’t stop images from the previous night from flashing in her mind. She quickly shook the memories away as she watched Walt walk onto the outdoor patio. He smiled when he spotted her.

As he sat down across from her, Avery removed the spoon from his coffee mug. “Two creams, no sugar,” she said.

Walt’s face carried a curious look. “Good guess. But what if I took my coffee black?”

“You don’t.”

Walt looked at her with a creased forehead.

“It’s a weird thing with me. I pay attention to other people’s coffee habits. I saw two empty creams on the coffee bar in your hotel room on Saturday. Sugars were untouched.”

Walt slowly nodded. “Very creepy, but I sort of like it.”