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“Simple? I've made a spectacular mess of it. I'm not asking you to tidy it up for me.”

“That's putting it mildly.”

She looked away again. Two steps would have put me close enough to touch her. I remembered the warmth of her waist beneath my hands at the Grand, and the way she'd pulled me nearer instead of turning away. I kept my place beside the table. She hadn't invited me any nearer, and tonight my wanting didn't get to decide the distance.

After a while Everly reached for her handbag and slipped its strap over her shoulder. “I need to go home. I can't decide what any of this means while I'm standing here with you.”

“Of course.”

She crossed the loft toward the door, then stopped beside the leather sofa, turning to face me. Her heels clicked softly on the boards. “I meant what I said at the office. I wanted what happened Saturday. I don't want you rewriting that into something I didn't choose just because we're having this conversation.”

“I won't.”

“But I also don't know whether I can trust you. And I don't know if I can take your word for which parts of my life you weren't able to change.”

I held my wings tight against my back. I wanted to cross the room and hold her. She'd given me no reason to think she'd welcome it.

There was one other choice available to a creature who'd fallen as I had, a final decision that could cost me the existence I'd carried out of Heaven. The thought flickered through me and was gone. If I offered it now, I'd only be trying to turn another extraordinary act into a reason for Everly to stay. She hadn't asked for that, and I wasn't going to put the weight of it on her.

“Take as long as you need,” I said. “And if you decide you don't want to see me again, I won't come after you.”

Her fingers tightened on the bag strap. “I haven't decided that.”

The words gave me hope I didn't deserve to lean on. She watched me for another moment, and I made myself leave the silence alone.

“I'll find my way down,” she said.

I nodded toward the door. “The stairs are straight ahead. The outside door locks behind you.”

She opened my loft door, paused with one hand on its edge, and looked back. Whatever she might have said remained unspoken. Then she walked into the hall, and I heard her heels move toward the stairwell.

I didn't follow.

The building's front door closed below. I went to the window and saw her emerge onto the pavement and cross to her car. She climbed in and sat for a moment before starting the engine. Even through the old glass, I heard it catch.

Her headlights swept across the brick wall as she backed out. She turned into the street and drove toward the harbor road. One hard sweep of my wings could have carried me over the rooftops and brought me to the next intersection before she reached it. I kept them folded and listened until I couldn't hear her car anymore.

Chapter Five

The paper bats taped to the glass entrance of my apartment building were coming loose in the November wind. One slapped against my sleeve as I reached for the door, and I brushed it aside with considerably more irritation than a fifty-cent Halloween decoration deserved.

Inside, the stairwell smelled of damp wool and somebody's dinner. I climbed to my floor, fumbling with my keys as I reached my apartment. Usually, coming home after a busy day at Harbor & Main was a relief. Tonight, even the familiar sound of the lock clicking open did little to settle my nerves.

My living room looked exactly as I'd left it that morning. A cream throw lay folded across the sofa, my paperback rested on the side table, and the brass lamp cast a warm glow over the rug when I switched it on. I dropped my handbag onto the entry table, scattering a neat stack of mail across the floor.

I left it there.

In the bedroom, I kicked off my heels, unfastened my belt, and stepped out of my work dress. It landed in a crumpled heap beside the bed. Several hairpins followed as I pulled them from my hair, one bouncing beneath the dresser. I pulled on leggings and an old sweatshirt before heading for the kitchen.

Normally, I would've picked everything up and put it away.

Tonight, I couldn't have cared less.

I'd spent the evening with a man who could unfold enormous black wings from his back. I'd touched those feathers myself, felt them move beneath my fingers, and then listened while Cillian explained that he'd stolen celestial power to find a way into my life.

My mother had given me plenty of advice about unsuitable men over the years. Somehow, she'd neglected to mention what to do when one turned out to have been expelled from Heaven.

In the kitchen, I pulled out bread, butter, and cheese, determined to accomplish something as ordinary as making dinner. The skillet hissed as I set the sandwich in the hot butter, and I stood at the counter, staring through the window at the street below.