I almost lost my life, and now I have to listen to how it was probably his fault?

Fuck this.

I throw my napkin down. “I think I’m done.”

“Weren’t you the one saying that we should enjoy the dinner?” Allison says dryly.

“Yes, well, since I’m the one that almost died, I think it’s my prerogative to call it quits.” I stand. “Feel free to finish without me. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

I don’t wait for anyone to respond; I just push my chair back and go.

I take the path around the kitchen into the main section of the restaurant, scanning the room for Cathy because she’s the last person I need to see right now. It’s full: couples at tables, families fighting over the bread baskets, laughter, smiles of pleasure. As I walk through it, I feel apart from it, and maybe it’s just the lingering effect of almost dying, but it feels like more than that.

Because—what if Connor is right?

What if the next attempt on his life is successful?

What then?

“Hey,” Harper says, “wait up.”

She catches up with me at the door, and we exit together. Outside, in the still air, the paintbrush trees reach toward an inky, starless sky.

I still feel winded and sick.

And then Oliver walks out the door.

“Hi,” I say.

“Hi.”

“You didn’t have to leave because of me.”

“I know. I wanted to.”

“Why?”

“Because I… It didn’t seem right, just acting normal, after what happened.”

I feel the same way. That’s always been the good and bad about us—how similarly we think about so many things. I’ve missed it, our connection. I wish I knew how to get it back. I wish I could believe that his interest now isn’t only because he had to save my life.

“Where to?” Harper asks.

“Hotel?”

“Mind if I walk with you?” Oliver says.

“Of course.”

“You do?”

“No, I meant, of course, join us.”

Harper squeezes my hand. “I forgot my phone. You go ahead, I’ll catch up.” She releases her grip, then disappears into the restaurant.

Now we’re alone.

“You believe that?” Oliver asks, watching her go.