Page 45 of Sinner’s Game

“There’s a difference between bravery and hiding,” I say. “I don’t let it in.”

“Bravery is whatever gets you through it. Trust me, angel. You’re brave. I saw it then, and I see it now. We’re going to get answers, and you’re going to get through this just fine.”

I draw in a breath, relishing the feel of his hand around mine. “Thank you,” I say. “You always see such good things in me.”

It’s true, I realize. He always has. Or maybe it’s just that he makes me feel good things. Honestly, I’m not sure. I just know that I feel happy when he’s around. And safe, and special.

“Want a refill on your wine?”

“I really do,” I admit.

He starts to stand, but that’s when I remember, and I reach for his hand, then yank him back. “Wait! I think I know how to track down the fake me.”

He sits again, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he cups both his hands around mine. I glance at our joined hands and hear the tremor in my breath as I begin to speak. “Mr. White,” I say. “I forgot to tell you about Mr. White.”

My phone is on the table beside him, and I reach for it, then go straight to my emails. Nothing.

“Damn.”

Ronan’s brow furrows. “What’s going on?”

I slide my phone back onto the table, then I begin to relay the strange story of the man who thought it was my protocol to meet randomly in the Arts District in order to get a quote for a job.

“Did he say what kind of a job?”

“No. But when I gave him my business card, he pretended his fingers were guns and laughed at my name. You know, BB. I thought he was just weird. But he said he was going to email me with the parameters. That was the word he used. Parameters.”

I can tell from Ronan’s face that he’s thinking exactly what I am—this man wasn’t intending to meet me. He was intending to meet the fake Brandy. “He said he knew where to find me because he talked to Cara.”

“Who?”

“My friend that I hired as a part-time assistant. I’m sure I’ve told you about her.”

“Of course. Right. But did he say her name or did he call her your assistant?”

“I—oh. I don’t remember. Hang on.”

My phone is on the table beside him, and he passes it to me. I dial on speaker, and Cara answers on the first ring.

“Oh my God, I’ve been dying to know. What happened with Ronan and the sink? Please tell me you guys didn’t stick with traditional plumbing.”

“Cara,” I say sharply, certain my cheeks are going to burn right off my face. “Ronan’s here with me, and you’re on speaker.”

“Oh. Right. Haha. I’ve got such a fucked-up sense of humor, don’t I?”

I picture her cringing, and my eyes dart up to Ronan’s face. At least he looks amused rather than mortified.

“Listen, I lost the phone number for Mr. White. Do you have it?”

“Who?”

“Mr. White. He called to talk about me doing a project. You told him he could probably find me in the Arts District.”

“Um, nope. Not me.”

Ronan and I exchange a glance. “He said he talked to you. Well, my assistant.”

“Unless you’ve cloned me, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”