Phoebe's POV
Malcolm whisked Mack away while Alistair coordinated a private jet for immediate departure. Their urgency suggested someone was breathing down their necks. Lucky for them, my attention had shifted completely away from Mack. If I'd still been watching, their frantic movements would've definitely caught my eye.
The evening treated me well—I devoured dinner with genuine enthusiasm. Harold and I headed home together afterward. "Get plenty of sleep tonight," he murmured, walking me to my door and pressing cupcakes into my hands. "Stop letting your mind spiral."
He'd picked my absolute favorite flavor, going out of his way just for me.
Sure, late-night sugar wasn't exactly healthy, but Harold never failed to bring me one anyway.
