Page 87 of Suite 7

I breathe.

“So tell me more,” she says.

“He can be intense,” I say.

“Intense how? Like creepy intense or⁠⁠—”

“No. Focused. Present. Like you’re the only thing that matters when you’re talking to him.”

“Okay, I’m swooning and I haven’t even met him.” She takes a sip of wine. “What does he do?”

“He’s an architect.” Sloane’s face stays open. No flicker.

“Smart and intense,” she says. “That’s a dangerous combination.”

“Tell me about it.”

She grins. “When do I get to meet him?”

“It’s still new...”

“But eventually, right?” Her expression doesn’t flicker. “I want to vet him. Make sure he’s good enough for you. You deserve someone amazing.”

I reach for my wine glass and drink more of it than I intended.

“You know,” Sloane says, voice going softer, “I had a best friend in high school. Sidney. We were inseparable. Closer than sisters.” She’s looking at her wine glass now. “We had this pact. Ride or die. Never lie. No matter what.”

My stomach drops.

“What happened?” I ask.

“I lost her.” Simple. Final. “It was — complicated. A lot of things at once.”

The waiter arrives with our appetizers. Sloane’s face closes, and I watch her decide, visibly, to let the interruption be an exit.

When he leaves I lean forward. “Sloane⁠⁠—”

“Not tonight.” She shakes her head. “I’ll tell you the whole thing another time. I promise. Tonight I just—“ A breath. “Tonight I don’t have it in me.”

I nod. Let it close.

Sloane reaches across the table and squeezes my hand before she picks up her fork.

“What I need you to know right now, the reason I brought her up, is that ride or die, never lie thing? That’s us. That’s what we have. And I need that. After Sidney, I need to know the people I love are honest with me.”

My throat closes.

I should tell her. Right now. This is the moment.

Sloane. Gerald is Kane. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.

The words are right there. In my mouth. Ready.

But then I think: tell her what, exactly?

That I’m in an arrangement with her brother?

That’s what it is, what we agreed to, what we named it, what it has been from the beginning. An arrangement.