(Aurora's POV)
I held out the pudding. "Everything okay?"
"Fine." He took the dish. "Work."
I looked at him for a second. He looked back, perfectly composed.
I let it go. But I thought about it later, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling.
He'd hung up the moment he saw me. That wasn't how people ended work calls.
What is his secret?
The next morning, I went to a men's clothing boutique on the west side. The kind of place with dark wood shelving and a tailor on site and no prices on anything until you asked. I found a white dress shirt in a heavy cotton poplin - the kind that held its shape and didn't wrinkle after twenty minutes - and had it boxed properly.
The price made me pause for exactly one second. Then I handed over my card.
If I was going to thank someone who'd gotten my b
