Chapter 7: Noelle at the Door

Joaquin came down the stairs in yesterday's jeans, with his hair wet, and took the envelope out of my hand.

He did not open it.

He looked at the return address, then at me, then folded it once and tucked it in his back pocket.

"That's from the Singapore client," he said.

"It says Meridian Pacific Holdings."

"They're a big client."

"Joaquin."

"You said tomorrow. It's tomorrow."

He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Give me until Friday, the Heyward gala."

"I'm closing something this week, and if it breaks, a lot of people lose their jobs."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one I can give you without lying to you."

I should have been angry.

I was standing in my own front hall with the print of his teeth on my shoulder, and I wanted to believe him.

"Friday," I said. "And then everything."

"Everything." He kissed my forehead, and the tenderness of it hurt more than the heat had. "Thank you."

The doorbell rang again.

Joaquin frowned.

"Expecting someone?"

"No."

I pulled my robe tighter and opened the door.

Noelle stood on my porch in a white sundress and sunglasses, holding a paper cup of coffee in both hands.

Her lip was trembling.

"Is Joaquin here?" she said.

I did not answer.

She took off her sunglasses, and her eyes were red.

"Please," she said. "I'll only take a minute."

Joaquin came up behind me and stopped at my shoulder.

"How did you find this house?" he asked.

"Grayson told me. He said you moved in." She laughed, wetly. "I couldn't sleep. I couldn't stop thinking about what I did."

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