Page 65 of Midnight at the Magnolia

I start to rise, old habits of caring for her taking over, but she stops me with a vehement head shake. “No. I want to get this over with. Please, Ethan.”

The desperation in her voice gives me pause. Is it real? Or just another performance?

“She’s good,”Lauren’s voice admits.“Better than I was. But watch her eyes when she lies. Everyone has a tell.”

“Alright,” I settle back. “Let’s continue. Tell me about the moment you entered the museum.” I deliberately leave out the part where she knocked me out, kidnapped me. Some truths I’m not ready to face in an official capacity. “How did you know when and where to go?”

Her eyes dart away—there it is, the tell Lauren mentioned. “I entered through the side door. It was dark, and I could hear voices echoing from deeper inside the building.”

“And you didn’t think to call for backup?” I press the point like pressing on a bruise, wanting to feel the pain. “Or I don’t know, wake me up, in the car you left me in?”

Celeste’s jaw tightens beautifully. Everything about her is beautiful, even her lies. “There wasn’t time. I thought... I thought I could handle it.”

“Handle it?” The words taste bitter. “Celeste, you’re a waitress, not a trained operative. What made you think you could handle a group of armed criminals?”

She meets my gaze then, and for a moment, I see something real in her eyes—a flash of steel beneath the silk. “You’d be surprised what people are capable of when pushed to their limits, Ethan.”

The weight of her words settles between us like a loaded gun on a table. Both of us know it’s there, neither willing to reach for it first.

“She’s giving you an opening,”Lauren’s voice urges.“Take it. Push harder.”

“Alright,” I say slowly, watching Celeste’s every micro-expression. “So you entered the museum. Then what happened? Walk me through how a waitress took down an armed crew.”

She takes a deep breath, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the table. I’ve seen her do this before, late at night at the diner when she thought no one was watching. Another tell, or another carefully crafted detail?

“I followed the voices to the main gallery. They were taking paintings, wrapping them.” Her voice stays steady, but her fingers still their movement. “That’s when I decided to intervene.”

“And that’s when muscle memory took over?” The words slip out before I can stop them. “Combat training kicked in?”

“Don’t push too hard,”Lauren warns.“You’ll lose her if she feels cornered.”

Celeste looks at me then, really looks at me, and for a moment her mask slips. I see depths in her eyes that take my breath away—pain, determination, and something that looks dangerously like love.

“Sometimes,” she says softly, “the right thing and the safe thing aren’t the same, Ethan.”

“Neither is the truth and what we want to believe,”Lauren’s memory whispers.

I lean forward, my voice dropping to match hers. “Celeste, what aren’t you telling me? Because right now, I’ve got a vigilante’s DNA, combat skills that don’t match your story, and a whole lot of coincidences that stopped feeling coincidental months ago.”

For a heartbeat, I think she might break. Might finally let me in. The air between us grows thick with unspoken truths.

But then the door bursts open with a bang that makes us both jump. Alex storms in, wild-eyed and waving a USB drive like a weapon.

“She’s playing you!” he shouts, his voice cracking with desperation. “I have proof of everything! She’s your vigilante!”

I’m on my feet instantly, positioning myself between them. Old habits die hard—even now, my first instinct is to protect her.

“Too late for that,”Lauren’s voice says sadly.“You couldn’t protect me either.”

“Sir, you need to calm down and step outside,” I say, but my eyes are on Celeste. I see the shift in her posture, the predator emerging from beneath the prey’s disguise. My heart races as I realize what’s about to happen.

“Watch her hands,”Lauren warns.“Always watch their hands.”

Time seems to slow, each heartbeat stretching into eternity. I see Celeste’s muscles coil, ready to spring. I should stop her. It’s my duty, my job, everything I’ve sworn to uphold.

But as our eyes meet across the room, I see everything we’ve never said written in her gaze. Fear. Regret. Love.

“I’m sorry, Ethan,” she whispers, and I hear truth in those words if nothing else.

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