“I see.”

Another pause.

“Seven o’clock,” Mrs. Blackwood concluded. “Don’t be late.”

The line clicked off.

Rebecca stood still for a moment.

The next day, she told him.

They were standing outside her building while Raya chased a pigeon in determined circles.

“My mother invited you to dinner.”

Vincenzo didn’t react immediately.

“That sounds ominous.”

“It is.”

He almost smiled. “Am I being tried?”

“Evaluated.”

He nodded slowly, absorbing that.

“And you?” he asked. “Do you want me there?”

The question caught her off guard.

Did she?

She thought of her mother’s gaze that morning.

Of the warning disguised as concern.

Of the years that had passed in fractured pieces....