“You give her a lot of credit.”

“For potential mayhem? Yeah.” I put my fork down. “She worries me. There’s something not right about her.”

“You know, most guys just have to deal with their exgirlfriends being jealous of their wives. Not coming up with elaborate conspiracy theories about them.”

“I was never your girlfriend.”

“The point stands.”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

He sighed. “I can’t.” Glancing to the clock, he added, “I should be getting back to Shadowed Hills. I’ve got to attend formal audiences today.”

Sometimes I wonder if the essentially diurnal nature of the Duchess of Shadowed Hills is the real reason she married her daughter to a Selkie: she was looking for moral support. “I need to get going myself,” I said, leaving my mostly untouched breakfast behind as I rose. Connor eyed my plate. “If you want a doggie bag, get it yourself.”

“It’s okay,” he said, his tone making the words into a lie. He clearly wasn’t happy about my failure to eat, but I decided to let it go. I didn’t have the energy.

We paid our check and exited the restaurant. Connor, ever the gentleman, held the door for me. My fingers brushed his before he let it go, and I pulled away. Wanting each other wasn’t allowed to matter anymore.

There was a chill in the air outside, and the sky was solid gray, warning of rain. I looked up, frowning. “Weather’s taking a turn for the worse.”

“Guess so.” Connor stepped closer. I stepped away, and he stopped, not bothering to hide the hurt expression that flashed briefly over his face. “Toby …”

“Just don’t, okay? Please.” I shook my head. “Just don’t.” I hadn’t been so quick to pull away when we were in Fremont together, trapped in a knowe with a killer stalking the halls. I kissed him there, tasted the salt on his lips, remembered why I’d ever wanted him as more than a friend.