The only thing keeping me from full panic mode was the fact that our apartment sat in the kind of neighborhood where people minded their business because asking questions got you hurt. No paparazzi would risk getting their camera stolen for a photo of some random guy's front door.
Small mercies.
"Fine," I said. "How do we handle this before it gets worse?"
Cassidy's eyes lit up. "So you agree we need better photos—"
"No. I agree we need a plan that doesn't involve you posing for Instagram like we're dating."
"But—"
A rustling sound came from the corner of the library. The reading nook by the windows, specifically. The massive leather beanbag chair shifted, and wine-red hair appeared over the top edge.
Sabrina sat up. Stretched. Yawned like she'd just woken from hibernation instead of a casual library nap.
She'd been there the entire time.
