Chapter 50

50

S he was still ambivalent, but she'd decided one thing: to give that burgeoning romance between Luke and her a chance. Her dispassionate side resisted the temptation to use that very specific, charged word, but the writer in Sol who always tried choosing the more appropriate word knew better.

Even if the circumstances in which they'd met and where they still pretty much found themselves made the whole thing much more tumultuous than what she would have preferred, given the choice, she was willing to stay in that situation and explore whatever this thing with Luke was.

When it came to relationships, she had tried twice in all seriousness in the past. And it wasn't that she'd failed—she'd never seen divorce as such—but she'd also not succeeded at it. She loved excelling, but perhaps she'd have to learn to simply try.

Luke had left not long after the police—after they'd fought and reconciled once again.

Considering the abrupt circumstances in which she'd woken up that day, given everything else going on in her life, and taking into account the fact that she hadn't had all her beauty sleep— even if she'd traded some sleep hours for an equally soothing activity—Sol decided to take the rest of the day easy.

She had breakfast and a second long and strongly brewed tea. She took the longest of showers and carefully chose what to wear for the challenges coming up. Only after her hair and skin looked flawless, and she felt comfortable but sexy wearing her favorite cropped sweatshirt and leggings, did she go to her office and open her laptop.

She wasn't prepared for what was waiting for her. She almost felt as if she needed to hire a publicist to filter through all the noise directed her way.

The self-published article she'd written the day before was trending online after a few industry blogs had picked it up.

The story had also been tied to T he appeared to really be mad about her. She'd become an overnight sensation and the epitome of what journalists faced daily.

One of the first people to link to the story and contribute to its virality had been Fynn himself. It looked like the director had decided to go rogue once again and use his official Twitter account to share Sol's article. He'd added, "Had an awful time with interviewer @SolNovo. She would only ask the blandest of questions. But I was not an easy subject. She tells it exactly how it went here." She felt tempted to like the message but didn't.

More than two hundred emails had flooded her inbox, as well as a significant amount of mentions and direct messages on her Twitter account. She was still happy to have taken the initiative of telling her own story but decided to close her laptop. She felt better just by doing that.

She signed up for Josie's mid-morning Pilates reformer class on her phone—she'd finally done some of the mandatory math, and giving up Josie's exorbitantly expensive classes wasn't an option. She would go as far as renting her place in Barcelona or selling her car before leaving Josie—and got out of her house, ready to be sore.

···

She was leaving Josie's studio filled with endorphins from the workout and some lingering dopamine and oxytocin from the night before when she felt her cell phone vibrate.

"Hello, Divya," she answered, a note of cheerfulness in her voice.

"Someone sounds happy," the detective said.

"I guess I am," Sol realized. "I've just exercised. And Josie just announced the new schedule for the remainder of spring and summer, so it doesn't look like she's going to be abandoning me any time soon."

"So your cheeriness has nothing to do with Luke being out of reach all night?"

Sol blushed. "Talking to you is bizarre. I feel like I'm having a conversation with a very sagacious therapist who is also a clairvoyant."

"I think it'll be better if I don't read too much into it," said Divya matter-of-factly.

"As usual, you're perfectly spot-on."

"I called to tell you we figured out what happened at the Tube the night of the theft."

"You found a perfectly reasonable explanation?" said Sol, her mood rising even more.

"We did," replied Divya. "We've had a chat with Philippa Majors. She corroborated your story about Sara Daniels being at Charing Cross the night of the theft."

"So Sara lied to you."

"Not really. Philippa didn't think it was really Sara at the Tube. It only appeared to be her."

"What do you mean?"

"Philippa said she's always admired Sara's perfect posture, but the person at the Tube, even if she looked like Sara, didn't carry herself with a completely straight back."

"Such a Philippa observation. Now I want to ask if she mentioned anything about my posture," said Sol, straightening her back. She struggled to take the case seriously sometimes. "Could it have been Bryana pretending to be her sister? The whole twin swap is such an easy plot twist though…"

"Luke is talking with Bryana right now," said Divya.

"He is?" Sol realized she hadn't heard from him since he'd left her place that morning. It had only been a few hours, but still. He'd said he was mad about her, after all.

"He's hopeful that Bryana, at least, won't lecture him about his Pilates practice and counsel him on how to improve it. Both Sara and Philippa have done it so far." Divya chuckled.

"Did he seem to care about the advice?"

"Not really," admitted Divya.

"I thought so."

"He gave me a message for you though. His mobile died because he didn't remember to charge it last night. He says he'll meet you for a passeggiata—I really don't know if I'm bodging the pronunciation of that word. Be at your usual spot at six. Does that work? I'm seeing him in ten minutes and can relay any messages."

"It works," said Sol. "Thanks again for everything."

"Don't mention it."