Sitting in Leo's car, I wasn't sure if it was out of spite… or something else.

Anyway, when I turned back, Julian's expression was truly thunderous.

I massaged my temples. After we'd driven a bit, I asked Leo to drop me off near a convenience store.

I couldn't actually have him drive me across state lines back home.

"You okay?"

As I got out, he tilted his head slightly, his concern evident.

Even after all these years, Leo still had that effortless kindness. The kind that didn't demand anything in return.

"I'm fine. Just tired."

"You drove through the night to see him, didn't you?"

I didn't answer. He nodded slowly, like he already knew.

"Claire, I'm not going to badmouth your husband. But I will say this—" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "You look exhausted. And not just from the drive."

"Leo—"

"I know. None of my business." He smiled. "But if you ever need someone to talk to who isn't emotionally entangled in the situation… you have my number."

I thanked him and shut the door.

Standing on the sidewalk, I watched his car disappear around the corner.

My phone buzzed.

Julian: "Where are you?"

Then, three seconds later:

Julian: "Come back. I'll drive you home."

I stared at the screen. After eight days of nothing—not a single reply to my messages about croissants and cactuses and storms—now he wanted to talk.

Because another man had shown up.

I typed back: "No need. I'll get home on my own."

He didn't respond.

Of course he didn't.