Cornelius huffs like he agrees. But then he sets the tiniest paw on my hand, sniffing more, stretching until the other front paw joins, too. After a moment’s deliberation, he crosses over into my cupped palms. He’s surprisingly light, and the sensation of his paws almost tickles.

Bea moves away, crouching beside the hedgehog structure and opening a minifridge. She shuts it with her heel, then snaps open a container. “Let’s reward him, shall we?”

“By all means.”

She sets a few pieces of food in my palm—diced apple, judging by the sweet-tart scent. He quickly nibbles them and settles deeper into my hands.

“What do you think?” she says.

I meet her eyes and feel myself smile. “He’s no geriatric cat, but he’ll do.”

—

Stepping out of my hands onto the top floor of his home, Cornelius surveys his surroundings before he toddles off to his rocks.

“Well,” I tell Bea, “I think that was a good bonding session.”

“Absolutely. But you need to understand, this is a responsibility now. He knows you. He’s going to have expectations. No being in and out of his life.”

“Am I getting the commitment talk already?”

She smiles. “My hedgie deserves the best.”

I peer down just as Cornelius disappears into his tiny tent. “I think he already has it.” Unrolling my sleeves, I glance down at my wristwatch. “I should go. Work bright and early tomorrow.”

“Sure thing.” Striding past me toward her bedroom door, Bea reaches for the handle, then freezes.

Long enough that I ask, “What is it?”

She turns to face me and leans against the door. “Just remembering,” she whispers, “we’re going to need a romantic goodbye out there.”

Unease rolls through me. I’m not exactly sure what “a romantic goodbye” looks like, but I’m fairly certain it involves my mouth on Bea’s.

My heart starts racing, remembering what a disaster the Bowling Alley Kiss was from a performance standpoint. Because it wasn’t a performance at all. It was pleasurable, and it wasn’t supposed to be. It was only supposed to be a premeditated step on the path of revenge.

This is different, though. At the Alley, I wasn’t prepared. It was spontaneous. This time it’s planned. That should make it better, easier. Less . . . affecting. Right?

“Right,” I tell Bea as much as myself. “That’s fine.”

I follow her out of the room, down the hall, until we’re once again in their main living space, Juliet and Jean-Claude just as we found them.

Juliet peers up from her romance novel. “Hey!” She makes to sit up, but Jean-Claude’s grip on the back of her neck tightens, holding her there. He leans in and presses a kiss to her temple. “Just relax. Bea can see him out. Stay with me.”

Bea scowls at Jean-Claude as she opens the apartment door. “Next thing you know, she’ll be on a leash.”