Duke came to the kitchen table in sweats and a t-shirt, relieved to see that Mara was dressed too. He'd briefly worried that she was going to stay naked. Then she served him dinner: spaghetti and meatballs and he felt like raging again. First she tries to emasculate him, now she was trying to infantilize him?

"Why did you make meatballs out of perfectly good cuts of meat?" he asked, trying to keep his tone even.

"Because you were passed out and I had nothing to do with myself. I didn't have the patience to sit and watch a movie, I had to do something. Making meatballs is a lot more labor intensive than just throwing a piece of meat in the oven. And I didn't make hamburgers because you do have spaghetti and you do not have hamburger buns. Are you going to question everything I make? In which case, why don't you just tell me what you want and that's what I'll know to make even when you're dead drunk."

"I'm surprised you even know how to cook."

"Why, because Audrey didn't? I was a bunch of women, Duke. Most of them knew how to cook. Why don't you knock off the twenty questions and eat your dinner?"

"How about some wine?"

Mara brightened. "Good idea."

She went and got two glasses and a bottle of red. She poured for them both and said, "Bon appetit."

With no more excuses, Duke tried a meatball and to his surprise it was really good. Mara clearly read the pleasure on his face and grinned smugly. "No more questioning my cooking, right?"

"Right," Duke had to agree. He ate and drank in silence. Mara drank, watching him, refilling his glass and her own until they'd finished the bottle.

When Duke finished eating, Mara cleared the table and did the dishes, asking Duke what he wanted to do now, sounding a bit tipsy, while half a bottle of wine had barely no effect on Duke.

"Go sit topside, listen to some music, then go to sleep. Without you."

"No, we're sleeping in the same bed."

"I don't think so."

"Well, I do. You said you were going to be nice to me. Making me sleep alone isn't nice. But . . . we can put pillows between us. I promise I won't touch you."

"Fine," Duke said. "But I am sitting on deck alone."

"Will you be drinking?"

"No."

"All right, I'll be here, waiting for you. If you need anything, give me a holler."

"Sure," Duke said, while muttering to himself as he climbed the ladder, "Not a chance in hell."

Over the course of the week Duke spent a lot of time crying and drinking alone but he didn't get stinking drunk again. He also made more of a concerted effort to be nice to Mara as she kept her part of the bargain to do everything for him. They ate dinner together and when she worked to rein in her impulse to be nasty, it was actually kind of nice. But by the last day, Duke was glad it was almost over. He wanted to go back to work, to get back to normal.

The last night. Mara made a beautiful steak dinner, poured wine, lit candles, wore one of Audrey's nicest dresses. Everything looked and smelled amazing, but it was like a knife in Duke's heart and a stone in his stomach. His eyes filled with tears.

"You look just like her. I can't do this," he said quietly. "You enjoy your steak, I'm going to take a walk."

Mara quickly blew out the candles, pulled off her dress, messed up her hair, and grabbed Duke's hand.

"Please, don't go," she said, matching his tone.

"Audrey," Duke said, anguished, pulling Mara to his chest, burying his face in her hair. "Audrey, I love you. I'm sorry I couldn't save you."

Mara stroked Duke's neck and responded, "It's okay. I'm okay."

Duke immediately pushed Mara away from him, or tried to. Mara didn't let go.

"Don't pretend to be her," he said harshly.

"Why not?" Mara said. "How many people get a chance to say goodbye to their loved ones after they've passed? This is a one-time offer only. After tonight, you won't see me wearing Audrey's clothes except in public."

"How could I? I couldn't," Duke said, but weakly. It was a tempting offer.

"Just imagine. They let me out of the Barn for a few hours tonight. Just a few hours and then I'm gone, forever. Be with me one last time, Duke. I love you. I don't regret what I did. See me off. Again."

"No," Duke said weakly, but then gathered strength. "No. This is grotesque and disrespectful. I'm not surprised you dreamed it up."

Shocked, Mara said, "That was absolutely not my intention. You're the one who thought I was pretending to be Audrey. After everything I've done this week, you think I'm trying to trick you? If I were going to try to seduce you, I'd do it as myself."

"I need a drink."

Mara got out a bottle of vodka and poured a shot into his wine glass. "That's me," she said. "A wine glass with vodka in it."

Duke threw it back and grimaced. "Now I need some air."

"I'm coming with you."

"Naked?" Duke taunted.

"Is that what you want?" Mara said with a sly grin.

Duke's face collapsed and then so did his body. He practically fell into Mara's arms. She could feel that he was trembling. He buried his face in her neck and murmured, "No, no, no, no, no . . ." but his hands were gripping her hips and he was rising to meet her. It was inevitable, really, after a week of being cared for by a doppleganger of his dead girlfriend.

Mara was trembling too, but eagerly. Duke would be only the second man she'd ever slept with—William had been her first and only. All the men the overlays had been with . . . it hadn't quite felt like having sex and it hadn't quite felt like watching someone else have sex. It was an impossible sensation to describe. But those weren't men she chose or even would have chosen, and Mara didn't like thinking it was on the spectrum of nonconsensual sex.

Not that she'd chosen Duke either, technically. But she had chosen Audrey and Audrey's life and Audrey's boyfriend. Mara didn't know if she could be Audrey, but she certainly appreciated that Audrey's brand of do-gooding involved shooting people.

Now Duke was squeezing her butt, pulling her closer to him. Mara pulled his head away from her neck and looked him straight in the eye. Then she kissed him. It was a quiet kiss, an invitation, Mara holding back her eagerness. It took a second but then Duke was kissing her back. She undid his belt. He was inside her. It felt so good that tears welled up in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

"You don't get to cry," Duke said, bringing their movements to a screeching halt.

"What? I wasn't crying."

"You were. I can't look at your face."

"Are your eyelids broken? Why not use them?"

Duke pulled out.

"I'm sorry!" Mara quickly said. "No, please!"

Without a word, Duke grabbed Mara's arm. He pushed her into the living room and over the arm of the couch. He entered her doggy style and didn't speak until they were both finished.

He pulled on his pants and said, "Now I'm going for a walk and you're not coming with me."

"Uh huh," Mara said vaguely, lost in a haze of good feelings.