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Tonight, neither of us had to pretend we were strangers.

I offered him something to drink, and he accepted a glass of water. While I filled it, he wandered toward the window overlooking the street. He stood with his hands in his pockets, studying the old buildings and the autumn branches moving beneath the streetlamps.

The setting was so familiar that seeing him in it felt unexpectedly intimate.

I carried his water into the living room and handed it to him.

"Thank you."

He remained standing until I settled onto the sofa. Then he took the opposite end, leaving enough room between us that I could've stretched out my legs without touching him.

I found that arrangement deeply unsatisfactory.

But there were things I needed to say first.

"I spoke to Taryn," I told him.

His gaze returned to mine.

"About Saturday?"

"Yes. I told her you were the man at the masquerade and that you'd recognized me. She's rather unimpressed with your decision not to tell me."

"I can't say I blame her."

"She doesn't know anything about your wings or what happened in Heaven. I thought that was something we should keep between us."

"I appreciate that."

I folded my hands in my lap, considering how to begin.

Cillian didn't rush to fill the silence. He sat comfortably against the cushions, waiting while I gathered my thoughts.

"I've had a lot of time to think since I left your loft," I said. "Not quite enough to understand everything, obviously. I'm still having difficulty getting my head around the fact that angels are real."

"I don't imagine many people would find that easy."

"No, and discovering that one has been working in your conference room certainly doesn't help."

His lips twitched, but he let me continue.

"When you told me you couldn't change what I wanted, I didn't know whether to believe you. I still can't prove that limit, but I know which choices I made. And I know what you withheld at the Grand."

I shifted closer, resting one hand on the cushion between us.

"If you had any control over my decisions, you've been remarkably unsuccessful at getting the answers you want."

Cillian laughed softly.

"That's an understatement."

I smiled, pleased to see some of the familiar amusement return to his face.

"But that doesn't mean I'm suddenly comfortable with everything you did. You kept something important from me at the Grand, and I don't want to find myself in that position again."

His expression grew serious.

"You won't. I can't undo Saturday, Everly, and I won't pretend I didn't know what I was doing. But I'm not going to repeat it."