Chapter 2
two
I slide my phone out of my pocket as a lash of winter wind hits my face.
The number is programmed as my first contact, purely for efficiency’s sake. I hit it and bring today’s cup of tea to my lips, wishing it were the kind I keep at home instead of whatever generic nonsense the woman in the shop ordered for herself.
Alice Moore.
I know her name—and probably a great deal more than I should about her life. But, somehow, this is the first time I’ve thought of her as a woman.
Sort of impossible not to, after actually meeting her.
The tea she chose is incredible, though. Something dark and bitter—perfect for the morning. With a pastry.
Good thing she has one.
That thought shouldn’t lift the corners of my lips, but it does. I turn toward 57th as the call clicks through, connecting me to the silent presence on the other side, waiting for my word.
“She’s perfect.”