Shortly after the water for the shower shuts off, our apartment door opens, and air rushes out of my lungs. Christopher has a black eye and a split lip. He shuts the door, wincing at the movement of his shoulder.

Jamie’s in doctor mode, walking up to him, gently clasping his other elbow. “What happened?”

Christopher groans as he slumps into a chair at the table. “Jean-Claude.”

“What?” I sit across from him as Jamie goes to the freezer and makes an ice pack, then wraps it in a clean kitchen towel.

“Put it on your eye,” Jamie tells him.

Christopher obeys, wincing again as the ice connects with his swollen, bruising face. “Has Jules told you anything?”

I shake my head. “She showed up at Jamie’s—she’d been trying to call while we were passing out candy, but I didn’t have my phone on me, so she walked to his place—and then she just lost it.”

He adjusts the ice on his eye. “I should let her tell you.”

“She’ll tell me her version of things.” I clasp his hand and squeeze gently. “You tell me yours.”

“Jules came in for our usual end-of-month strategy meeting.” He turns to Jamie. “Hedge funds can’t advertise in the traditional sense. It’s all networking and shoulder rubbing, which I’m good at, but not the expert.”

“Juliet is,” Jamie says.

“Exactly. Her PR consultancy career is thriving for a reason,” Christopher says. “So we were having our usual meeting, and I notice she seems subdued, not her usual upbeat self. I was worried, so I asked her if we could switch gears, talk as family. She said yes, and then she told me what was going on.”

“What?” I ask. “What is it?”

“Well, that is her story to tell, but needless to say, she was upset, I was upset for her. So I hugged her. Which just so happened to be when Jean-Claude stormed into the meeting, took one look at us, lost his shit, and came at me.”

Jamie stares at Christopher and his black eye, pained. “He did that to you.”

“Yes. A few bruises, nothing major. And I’d like the record to show I only look like this because I wasn’t going to pulverize Jean-Claude in front of Jules. I subdued him, which was upsetting enough for her. I would have been here sooner to check up on her, but I had to deal with the police.”

“So you reported the assault,” Jamie says.

Christopher nods emphatically. “Hell yes.”

“Good.” Jamie sighs bleakly. “God, what a mess. I’m so sorry.”

Christopher waves his hand. “He’s not yours to apologize for. He was my employee, and he clearly has issues I should have noticed by now, not limited to a violent temper and irrational jealousy. I mean, Christ, she’s a sister to me. I would never—”