“Tournesol!” one of the guys calls. “Pass the water, please?” Rooney breaks from her conversation with Skyler, then smiles at the guy as she hands him the water pitcher. I watch him smile back at her and something snaps, dead center in my chest. “What did he call her?” Bennett glances between me and the guy down at Rooney’s end of the table. I put in a new floor with him, but even now, I can’t remember his name. I remember his faint French accent, but I’m shit with names. “Who, Vic?” Bennett says. “He calls her Tournesol. Means ‘sunflower.’” My hand wraps around my knife so tight, my knuckles
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