In the Likely Event

by Rebecca Yarros

“I thought you were in New York,” I finally managed to say, my voice coming out like it had been scraped over the pavement a dozen times. Where no one is actively trying to blow you up. “Yeah?” She arched a brow and hefted the slipping pack up to her shoulder. “Funny, because I thought you were dead. Guess we were both wrong.”

“She’s not my ex.” We never got to that point. “And wipe the smirk off your face.” “She’s worse than your ex,” Torres mumbled. “She’s your what-if.”

“You need to lock your dead bolt,” he muttered, reaching for the folder. “And if I had, you wouldn’t have been able to get in, either, would you?” I challenged, tucking my legs underneath me as he handed me the folder. He snorted. “Like a piece of metal is keeping me out when I hear you scream.”

Fate. There was no other way to explain this, to explain us.

“You have no business marrying one man while you’re in love with another.” “I’m not—” I yanked my hands back, but she held tight. “You are.”

Navarre. Gravity shifted beneath my feet. Isabeau’s lover, cursed to only see her at dawn and dusk. Doomed to love her but never touch her. Never hold her. Never make a real life together.