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It’s not exactly what I asked for, but it’s a start. I’ll take what I can get with him.

“Do you have cameras in my apartment?”

“No.”

“Are you lying?”

“Not anymore. I would like to have some, but Elijah and Bash would kill me if they knew.”

“What, why?”

“Beats me.”

“Mhm…” I search his eyes for the answer, but as always, they give nothing away. “Tell me.”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Gem and Lil?”

“Yes.”

“Next rule. You have to tell me if you add any new ways of watching me. No more cameras or microphones or tracking devices without my knowledge.”

At this, Connor actually chuckles. “Oh, Blue, you know I can’t make that promise. Half the fun is you not knowing exactly what I have access to.”

I pout.

He continues, “But I’ll try to keep new… surprises to a minimum. Within reason.”

“Fine.”

“And I still get to track your location and the cameras.”

It feels like we’re doing a contract now rather than discussing how our relationship should go. But oddly, it feels right. It feels like us.

“Rule three: The cameras are fine, but not constantly. And location tracking only in emergencies.”

“Define emergencies.”

“Life or death. Kidnapping. That sort of thing.”

“So, the usual then.”

I slap his chest, unable to hold back my laughter. Connor smiles in return and kisses me.

When we break apart, I whisper, “Does this mean you’re really going to tell me everything now?”

Connor’s expression sobers. He strokes a hand through my hair, watching the strands slide through his fingers. “Ask me anything.”

There are so many questions swirling in my mind, but one rises above the rest. The timeline fits, and deep down, I suspect that Connor is Chris, but I’m not ready to know the answer, not until I know what to think about Connor being Chris. Would it be a good thing? Would it be bad?

“How do you know where I’m always at?”

“Your phone, obviously, and…” Connor’s hand reaches for my necklace. “This.”

“My necklace?”

His fingers curl around the golden little butterfly pendant.

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