“Yeah, I’m good.” She turns to Priya as she starts to gently push me out of the booth. “Don’t let Conner take you home. I am not going to be in that wedding party.”

“No problems there,” Priya assures her.

Even when we’re standing, I notice Mackenzie hasn’t let go of my hand. In fact, she keeps a grip on it as she says her good-byes, while Priya gives me one last friendly threat in regard to Mackenzie’s well-being, and even the entire time she pulls me through the crowd toward the bar exit. I reason that she’s still worried about my earlier edginess. Hell, she can probably scent it on me, I’d wager, and I could tell her I’m okay now, that she doesn’t have to continue clinging to me.

I let her hold my hand all the way out to the parking lot instead.

The ride back to her place is a relatively quiet one, at least at first. Mackenzie lets the first several blocks pass in silence, and I can’t seem to think of anything to say to cut through it. She stopped touching me when we got into the car, because there was no valid reason for her to do it anymore, and for some reason without it I find myself uneasy. She doesn’t open her mouth until we’re nearly halfway to her apartment building, and by then, I’m uncomfortable, like I might come out of my skin.

“So . . . all in all, I’d say that wasn’t the worst fake date I’ve ever had.”

This draws a quiet laugh out of me, easing some of the tension inside. “You’ve had more than one?”

“Oh, loads,” she says seriously. “I told you I was a pro.”

My lips are still curled. “How could I forget?”

“Are you feeling okay? I could tell Dennis was really getting to you.”

I shake my head. “I don’t know what it is about that guy. It never used to bother me as much as it has been lately. Probably a side effect of going off my suppressants.”

“Yeah. It’s weird. It’s like I could scent it on you the moment he walked up. Almost like I could tell your mood changed. It was sharper somehow. I’ve never really been able to pick up on things like that as much as I could tonight.”

“That’s . . . interesting,” I note, meaning it. “I wonder why that is.”

She’s quiet for a second before tossing me a flippant “Must be an alpha thing.”

“Must be.”

It’s quiet again, and with it comes that same uneasiness. It’s completely unlike me; normally I am happy to be left to the quiet. Right now, though . . . I really hate it.

Mackenzie saves me again. “Was it super uncomfortable for you? Scenting all those people? I know you aren’t used to it since you’ve been on suppressants for so long.”

“No, I . . .” Her question takes me by surprise, but mostly because of my answer. It’s something that hadn’t occurred to me until she asked. “Honestly, I could only scent . . . you, for the most part.”

She turns her head to look at me, and when I glance to my right I catch surprise on her face. Her mouth parts only to close again, like she’s thinking, and it’s that same contemplative look she’d given me back on the dance floor, like she’s trying to figure something out. “That’s . . . Huh. I wonder why?”

“I’m not sure.” I peek at her again. “Must be another alpha thing.”

“Right.” She nods idly, but I can tell she’s still thinking. “Sure.”

Why is this so awkward? Maybe it was a bad idea to come with her. It feels like I’ve wandered into uncharted territory.

There’s a question that eats at me, a surprising one that would have never done so before all this. I consider not even asking, but ultimately, it seems that my brain refuses to let me do that. “Did you . . . have fun?”

“I did,” she says after a beat. She laughs then. “You make a great fake date, turns out.”

“That’s definitely a surprise.”

“Probably because you’ve gotten so good at the whole ‘scary Dr. Taylor’ thing.”

I consider that. I have done my absolute best to avoid any connection outside of work for as long as I’ve been here. Honestly, Paul is probably the closest thing I have to a friend, and he found out about me completely by accident.

“I’ve been so focused on keeping my secret . . . I don’t know. I can see how I might have come across.”

“Well, maybe it’ll end up being a good thing someone turned you in.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just mean that it must be nice to not have to pretend anymore, right?”

I frown, thinking. “I guess it is a bit of a relief.”

“And when you get to Albuquerque, you can take all the cool things I’m teaching you and use them to make real friends. I think by then we’ll have the scowling down to a minimum, surely.”

The reminder that I’m leaving is sobering, and I can’t really discern why. Nothing has changed since last week, so hearing about the plans that I’ve had from the beginning shouldn’t make me feel so strange.

“Right,” I say airily. “I have absolute faith in your abilities.”

“I’m right up here,” she says, pointing to the building ahead. “Take this next right.”

I slow the car so I can turn in, coming to a stop outside the door to her building and parking the car. She unbuckles slowly, lingering in her seat for a moment.

“About earlier . . .” She fidgets a little. “When we were dancing. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable. I probably shouldn’t have had that second shot.”

Oh. Oh. Has she been worrying about this the entire time?

“No, no,” I assure her. “You didn’t. It’s fine.”

“I hope you don’t think I was, like, coming on to you. I don’t want you worrying about me crossing a line or something.”

“No, I—” It would probably be a terrible idea to let her know I’ve been struggling myself, right? Obviously, she is uncomfortable by the idea of it all. “It’s really okay. Blame it on the alcohol.”

“The alcohol,” she parrots, nodding. “Right. Yeah. So we’re okay?”

“We’re fine,” I urge. “I’m sure it won’t be the last time things get awkward. It’s a strange arrangement we’re in. There are no real guidelines here.”

“Okay. Whew.” She playfully wipes the back of her hand across her brow, peeking up a little. “Glad that’s settled. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then, yeah?”

“Sure.” That reminds me. “How did you know I work tomorrow?”

“Oh. My friend Parker is the IT guy. I got him to print me a copy of your schedule.” She looks panicked for a second. “Is that weird? I just thought that if someone asked me if you were working or something I should probably know. Now I’m thinking it might be creepy. Shit.”

“No, it’s fine. Really. I was just surprised that you knew. That totally makes sense.” I can tell she still feels weird about it, so I add, “You should probably get me a copy of yours too. Just in case.”

“Okay.” She nods fervently, looking relieved. “Yeah. I will.” She finally gives me another smile, and I’m starting to think that my body is developing some sort of instinctual reaction to it. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good night, okay?”

“You too,” I murmur, watching her open her door to leave.

She gives me a little wave before she steps inside the building, and I don’t leave until she’s out of sight. Her worried expression at the thought of having crossed a line sticks with me—for reasons I can’t explain. It should be a good thing that she’s worrying about it, and it should be a relief that she wanted to make sure I knew it wasn’t her intentionally coming on to me. So why do I feel so shitty right now?

During the entire drive home, I never came up with a good answer.

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