Chapter 29
The morning sunlight filters through the windows of the living room, casting a soft glow over the half-opened boxes scattered across the floor. It's still a work in progress—not just the house, but their new life together. The smell of fresh coffee drifts from the kitchen, mingling with the faint scent of fresh paint.
Lily is in the kitchen, clad in leggings and a long-sleeve tee, her hair loosely tied back. She's just finished unpacking the last of her pots when the doorbell rings.
She hurries to the entry hall and opens the door to reveal a man standing on the doorstep—late 50s, graying hair, wearing a simple jacket and khakis. Given the security out front (and the fact that they let him through to the house without checking first—something she's trying to get used to), she assumes he's CIA.
"Hi," Lily says, a little hesitantly. "Can I help you?"
The man offers a friendly, but knowing smile. "You must be Lily. I'm Saul, Saul Berenson. I've been looking forward to meeting you."
Lily blinks, surprised by the suddenness of it. "Oh—it's so nice to meet you." She steps back to let him in. "Quinn's not—Peter's not here, but you're welcome to come in. He went for a run, but it was a while ago; he should be back soon."
Saul gives her a quick, almost rueful smile. "I'll take you up on that, if you don't mind."
Lily closes the door behind him and gestures toward the kitchen. "Coffee?"
"That'd be great, thanks," Saul says as he follows her inside.
She pours him a cup and hands it over. They sit down at the kitchen counter, the space still feeling fresh and a little sterile, but the conversation feels easy enough. Saul's sharp eyes flick over her—not judgmental, just assessing. It's obvious that he's used to sizing people up.
"So, congratulations on the new place—how are you settling in?" Saul asks, taking a sip of the coffee, watching her.
"It's… it's a work in progress," Lily says with a small smile, trying to sound more confident than she feels. "Still too many boxes to go through, but it's coming together."
"I remember when Mira and I—my wife, my estranged wife, actually—although we're trying... Sorry, too much information," he laughs awkwardly.
Lily smiles at him. "That's... okay. I'm a TMI kind of person myself. Mira is a beautiful name."
"She's a beautiful woman," Saul says quietly, seemingly losing his trail of thought.
"When you and Mira moved in together...?" Lily asks hesitantly.
"Oh yes," Saul smiles at Lily. "God, it was... everything, everywhere all at once," he chuckles. "We were so much younger than."
"That's a bit how this feels," Lily gestures around her. "And for Quinn—Peter," she corrects herself, rolling her eyes with affection—"he's used to living like he's on the run." She pauses. "As I'm sure you know," she adds. "So... this is... a lot."
Before she can respond, they hear the sound of the front door opening. A minute later, Quinn appears in the kitchen, clad in a sweaty tee shirt and joggers, a little out of breath but looking relaxed.
"Saul," Quinn says, looking from Lily to Saul—surprised but not unhappy. He pulls out his earbuds and pockets his phone. "I wasn't expecting you."
"Good to see you, Peter," Saul replies, standing. "I was just getting to know Lily."
Lily raises her eyebrows at Quinn and gives him an affectionate look. "Here," she pours him a cup of coffee and hands it to him.
"Thanks," Quinn gives her a gentle smile, before turning back to Saul. "You want to head out back? I can show you the pool we'll never use."
Saul laughs. "It'll come in handy when you have kids," he says lightly, letting Lily refill his coffee mug before following Quinn to the sliding doors that open to the backyard. The sun is higher now, warm but still early enough that the day feels full of possibilities.
Once outside, they sit at a table on the patio. Quinn takes a sip of his coffee, feeling at ease but curious. "What's up?" he looks at Saul.
Saul watches the landscape for a moment, then turns to Quinn, his expression serious. "The president's getting impatient."
Quinn leans back in his chair, not particularly surprised by this line of inquiry. "Yeah, things aren't moving as quickly as we'd hoped. But we're making progress."
"It's been seven months and ... Hamas is still holding 100 hostages, including several Americans, I don't need to remind you—and," Saul sighs, "We seem to be embroiled in a war without a single US soldier on the ground."
"We have a few," Quinn mutters quietly.
Saul raises an eyebrow. "For defensive assistance only," he shrugs.
Quinn nods and changes the subject. "Look, we've taken down an insanely high number of senior leadership. Gaza's practically demilitarized." He pauses, his gaze drifting toward to the trees in the yard. The quiet of Northern Virginia feels at odds with this conversation. "But I hear you. No one's talking about what comes after."
Saul looks at Quinn more closely. "That's what the president wants to be talking about."
"I don't think we're there yet."
Saul leans forward, steepling his fingers. "And what does that mean for us?"
"I think it's time for you to go out there, take a look, meet the guys on the ground," Quinn rubs his thumb against the coffee cup, turning it slowly in his hand. "Talk to Aranov," he adds, referencing the head of Mossad.
Saul nods slowly, as he considers what Quinn is saying. "You're probably right. It's time." He pauses before putting his empty cup on the table and rising.
Quinn rises as well. "Let me know what you need."
"Thanks, Peter." He glances at the yard once more before turning and walking back to the house. "I'm glad to see you doing well. This place... Lily. It suits you."
Quinn doesn't reply, silently following Saul back inside and leading him to the front door, after a brief goodbye to Lily. He watches Saul depart, then stays outside a moment longer, taking in the fresh air, wondering what comes next and if he's prepared to handle it.