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after he saw Margaret catering to all her rich friends. Did you know she was there with Walter last night?”
    I didn’t hear half of what she said. I just knew that Harley and I were about to walk into a trap. And I couldn’t be sure who’d set it up.
    It wasn’t Grant, not if the reporter caught him off guard. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t aware of what I’d been up to, that Harley was working against him on my behalf.
    It could be Philip. He was the one who set up the meeting between Harley and the reporter. The same reporter who was at the party last night on the red carpet, the one who pretended he didn’t know about her accident or why she stood him up that day two months ago. But he had to know. Who else would have asked Grant about the address of the same block where Harley was run down if not him? It would be far too huge a coincidence for there to be two reporters there last night with some sort of interest in this whole ordeal.
    And what about Harley’s mysterious visitor this morning? Could that person be involved in all of this? Could that person be the one spreading information around that no one should have had? Could that person be leaking information to Grant, or worse, his clients?
    This whole thing was getting too complicated for my taste.
    I couldn’t let Harley go that meeting.
    “Xander? Do you know something about all of this? Has Harley said something?”
    “Harley doesn’t remember the last three years of her life, Mom.”
    “But then why did you want to know about that reporter? I didn’t even remember it until you said something.”
    “Because that address? That’s where Harley was hit by a car.”
    My mom started to shake her head so hard that she stumbled back a little. “Grant had nothing to do with that!”
    “Are you sure?”
    “He wouldn’t hurt anyone—no matter what he thought they were capable of doing to him.”
    “But you expressed regret in not doing it yourself.”
    We both turned to watch Harley walk into the room, graceful despite the boot on her leg.
    “Harley, I—”
    “Why don’t you tell him, Bonnie?” she asked, a little lilt to her eyebrow. “Tell him how you told Margaret last night that you would have mowed me down yourself if it meant protecting Grant from what I was planning on telling that reporter?”
    “I was just talking,” my mom said, turning her face away so I couldn’t read her expression.
    “What are you talking about, Harley?”
    She crossed her arms over her chest, wrinkling the perfectly starched peasant blouse she was wearing. “I was in the bathroom at the party and heard them talking.”
    “About your accident?”
    “Your mom was upset that I was there with you.”
    “Of course I was upset,” Mom said. “You never told me about her accident, never told me she was back in this house. You knew what she was going to do, knew that she was going to start a ball rolling that would end with Grant in jail, possibly me, too. Yet, you brought her back here—”
    “She was my fiancée, Mom. Was I supposed to leave her in the hospital, not knowing anything about her life these past three years?”
    “You were broken up! And she turned on us. Turned on your family. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
    I wanted to tell her that Harley was my family now, but Harley shot me a cautious look, telling me that it was best to keep my tongue in my head. And I knew that. We’d talked about it and decided it was best if everyone continued under the assumption that she couldn’t remember anything about the last three years. But I so wanted this whole thing to be over now.
    Right now.
    “Can I ask you something?” I asked, my tone deliberately low and steady.
    My mom glared at Harley before focusing on me again. “What?”
    “Why would the address of the place where Harley was hit by a car upset Grant if he didn’t know anything about the accident?”
    As the meaning behind my words sank in, color once again drained from my