Page 33 of When I Accidentally Snagged a Serial Killer

“You insisted I accompany you through three antique stores and then accosted me against a building.”

She flinches in defense. “I did not accost you.”

“My recollection is extremely vivid.”

“Gage Cannon,” she scolds, fists on her hips. “Hand. Up. Skirt.”

“After the accosting.”

She points at the screen. “And you’re clingy.”

“Guilty as charged.”

Her grin hits immediately. God, I like that face. I angle the phone wider to reveal Tartlet wedged beneath my arm, and Muffin spread over my lap. “Plight of a famous influencer. Five million people think they know you. These babies actually do.”

Jubilee’s smile softens.

Cannoli chooses that moment to climb over my shoulder and shove her entire face into the camera. “And Cannoli would like it formally acknowledged that she’s being neglected.”

“Oh, my God,” Jubilee is delighted. “She’s so pretty.”

“She knows.”

“They all are. Especially Marzipan.”

I rub Muffin’s back. “They never let me down.”

Her expression changes. I know that one. She wants something and is deciding not to say so.

“They’d love to meet you sometime.” The words leave before I decide whether they’re wise.

For one terrible second, I expect the walls to slide back into place. Instead, she nods softly. “Sometime.”

Not no. My chest loosens. “What’s your favorite place in Chicago?”

She blinks. “That’s random.”

“Humor me, Princess.”

“The Cultural Center.”

“Really? Why?”

Her shoulder lifts. “It’s beautiful. And free. The Tiffany dome is ridiculous. All the mosaics and marble and staircases. You can walk in looking like you crawled out of a dumpster and pretend you belong in a palace for an hour.”

Well. That settles that. “Three o’clock.”

Her brows pinch. “What?”

“I’m taking you there. Three o’clock. Dinner after.”

“Wow. Twice in one week? You’re going to spoil me, Gage.”

“You’re a princess, after all.”

Her features do the little softening thing I’m rapidly becoming addicted to. “Okay.”

My chest lifts. “Okay?”