“Awfully nice of you. Not many boys would lend a girl money when she’s not an actual girlfriend. Did you expect something in return?”

Cody’s head tips up, and Frankie can finally see his eyes, which are no longer half-hidden by the baseball cap. “No! I’d never—”

“Did you want anything in return?”

“I just wanted her to—to—”

“Like you?”

Cody’s cheeks flush an even brighter pink. “You make me sound like I’m some kind of loser.”

In truth, that’s exactly what Mac is doing, and Frankie feels sorry for the boy. She feels sorry he must navigate a world dominated by all the privileged Liam Reillys who have never known rejection.

Before Mac can ask his own question, she quietly interjects herself into the conversation. “You really cared about Taryn. Didn’t you, Cody?” she says gently.

Her kindness disarms him. He wipes his eyes and turns away. “Yeah,” he whispers.

“She was lucky to have such a good friend.”

“I tried to be. I hated seeing her get hurt. And I’m sorry I let her talk me into spying on them.”

“Spying on whom?”

“Liam and his new girlfriend. I followed them with my camera, and when I saw them together at the restaurant, I told Taryn. That’s when she fell apart.” He wipes his drippy nose. “She could’ve come to me. I would’ve done anything.”

“Yes, I think you would have.”

“But it’s like she couldn’t even see me. There I was, ready to help. I would never have taken advantage of her, the way he did. I think that’s what broke her heart. That’s why she did it.” Cody shakes his head in disgust. “I don’t know why he hasn’t been fired.”

Frankie is confused. She looks at Mac, then back at Cody. “Are we still talking about Liam?”

“No. Professor Dorian.”

“A teacher?”

“Yeah. We both took his English lit course. I could see there was something going on between them. The way she looked at him. The way he looked at her. I complained to the school, but nothing happened to him. He’s still teaching, while Taryn—Taryn . . .” Cody slowly exhales, and his head droops. “No one ever fucking listens to me.”

Mac is already tapping on his smartphone, searching for information. “This professor, what’s his first name?”

“Um . . . Jack.”

“And he’s in the English Department?”

“Yeah.”

“Cody,” says Frankie. “You said you complained about him to the school.”

“I talked to some lady in the Title Nine office. She said—she promised—she’d follow up on it.”

“What exactly did you tell her?”

“I said something was going on between them. I thought he was taking advantage of Taryn. Everyone in the class could see she was getting special attention. It made me sick to think about it. Her involved with a guy that old.”

“How old?”

Mac looks up from his smartphone. “Forty-one, according to his bio. Real old.”

“Do you think they were actually having an affair?” Frankie asks Cody.

“I’m sure of it. That’s what I told the lady at Title Nine.”

“Do you have any proof?”

Cody hesitates. “No,” he admits. “But I could hear it in her voice, whenever she talked about him. How her life was going to change because of him. How she thought they could have a future together. The guy is twice her age.”

Which must make me seem ancient, thinks Frankie. But at forty-one, Jack Dorian is still in the prime of life. Mac shows her his smartphone screen, where he’s pulled up Jack Dorian’s photo. She sees an intelligent face, a full head of hair. Yes, he is definitely attractive enough to catch a woman’s eye.

“He should be fired for what he did to her,” says Cody.

But what did Jack Dorian do? Was it merely a flirtation between teacher and student? Did their relationship veer into something dangerous? Or was Cody Atwood so obsessed with Taryn that he couldn’t abide any man showing an interest in her—even if that interest was perfectly innocent?

“Do you think Professor Dorian is the kind of guy who might hurt a woman?” Mac asks.

At this question, Cody goes very still. “Why are you asking that question?”

“Maybe you could just answer it?”

“The school says she killed herself. That’s what they said on the news too.” He looks at Frankie. “Are you saying that’s not true?”

Frankie doesn’t answer, because the truth is still unclear to her. The deeper they dig into Taryn’s death, the larger the cast of characters they uncover. And now they’ve added one more name: Jack Dorian.

“She was my friend,” says Cody. “I want to know what really happened!”

Frankie nods. “So do we.”

BEFORE

CHAPTER 28

JACK

For three weeks, Taryn had stayed away from him, but Jack continued to twist in self-loathing. He had gone to her apartment to end their affair and, in one mindless moment, had yielded again to his goddamn id. Yes, she had wanted it. Yes, she had opened the door already stripped down to her underwear. Yes, she had moaned in delight and said she loved him. Still, he couldn’t help feeling that he was the one who had taken advantage of her, assaulted her.

Since that day, he had seen her only in class and never alone. No more private meetings in his office or strolling together out of the classroom. When she did attend class, she sat in stiff silence, scribbling notes and fixing him with hard looks that set off a frisson of guilt, as if he had betrayed her. But he did not love her, and he’d never suggested they had a future together. He would never leave Maggie for her. And he was determined to tell her this point-blank the next time they were alone. He had led them both astray, and he was the one who would take full responsibility.

He just needed to find the opportunity—and the courage—to say it.

His dread of that conversation overshadowed any sense of celebration when he and Maggie went out to dinner for his birthday. They always celebrated their birthdays at the same restaurant, Benedetto’s in Harvard Square, and their tradition included a champagne toast with Veuve Clicquot and a shared appetizer of calamari. After tonight, he vowed, he would take the first steps back to normalcy. To being a good husband again. Charlie’s failing health had been a burden on them both, and they needed this chance to get away, just the two of them. To remember the Jack and Maggie they once had been.

He ordered his usual glass of champagne and was surprised when Maggie asked for only sparkling Pellegrino.

“What? No Veuve Clicquot?” he asked.

“Not tonight. Not for the next seven months.” Smiling, she handed him an envelope. “Happy birthday, honey.”

Puzzled, he opened the envelope, expecting to find a birthday card inside, but the card he pulled out was decorated with balloons and floating babies. Not a birthday card at all but something else. Something that only slowly dawned on him.

She beamed. “Are you ready to be called Daddy?”

He stared at her, not certain he’d actually heard what she’d said. “Oh God. Really? Really?”

Maggie blinked away tears. “Yes. Really. I didn’t want to tell you until I was absolutely sure everything was fine. I saw my OB this morning, and she said it all looks perfect. The ultrasound, the blood tests. It’s going to be an October baby. Just in time for Halloween.”

Maggie’s face suddenly shimmered out of focus as his vision blurred over. A baby. He wiped away his own tears. Our baby.

“Think of it, Jack. This Christmas there’ll be three of us. Our first Christmas together as a family!”

His chair legs scraped across the floor as he jumped to his feet. He scrambled around the table and threw his arms around her. “I love you. God, I love you.”

“I love you too,” she sobbed. For a moment they forgot they were in a restaurant. Forgot everything except that they were in each other’s arms and this miracle was about to change their lives forever.

“And this time,” Maggie said, “it will be fine. I can just feel it. Everything will turn out absolutely fine.”

But everything was absolutely not fine.

On Monday morning, he found an envelope in his office mailbox addressed only to Jack. It contained a card with an illustration of Abelard and Heloise in a passionate embrace, and handwritten inside was a line from Heloise’s fourth letter to Abelard: Heaven commands me to renounce that fatal passion which unites me to you; but oh! my heart will never be able to consent to it.

It was not signed, nor did it have to be.

In fury, he took the card into the men’s restroom, tore it into pieces, and threw them into the toilet. Standing in the bathroom stall, watching the bits of paper flush away, he tried to steady his shaking hands. He’d hoped the problem would resolve on its own, that Taryn would lose interest in him or find another object of her affection. Now he realized the problem was not going away by itself. He had to end this now, before it blew up his life.