The flames casted shadows across the snow as Quinton tried to ignore the quizzical looks Kiara had been giving him since they arrived at the campgrounds. He wished he could pull her to the side and give her a better explanation, he had crafted a cover story since the incident happened but her time was being monopolized by Mrs. Wallace, Ivan Wallace's wife.

"You're going to burn your hand." Ivan said causally.

Quinton's eyes went to the direction the older man pointed. The marshmallow looked more like a lump of coal as fire danced down the wooden skewer. He quickly dropped it and stomped on it for good measure as it sizzled in the snow. "Thanks."

"No need." Ivan handed him another skewer but Quinton shook his head not really wanting smores. "Don't want you getting a third degree burn all the way-out here. It'll give my wife's event bad reviews which would ruin my New Year. But I figure you're already dealing with that." He nodded over to Kiara.

"We're not—" Quinton begun to say but the familiar man gave him a knowing look so he revised his words. "What if you had a secret that your wife didn't know and you can no longer hide but you didn't want to lose her trust or her."

Ivan huffed out a breath with widened eyes the said, "Damn, let me think." He stroked his white beard.

Quinton's face twisted casting his eyes over the blazing campfires scattered around them in the distance surrounded by happy, chipper faces wishing he could be one of them. This could've been his life if he wouldn't have taken this case. He could be free of the burden of living a double life. He sighed knowing the only reason he was in Houston and able to meet Kiara was because of the case. He was in a precarious predicament. He dropped his head as his shoulder's tensed.

"Don't lose hope, now." Ivan nudged his shoulder. "As long as you didn't cheat, conceive a baby, commit sexual assault, or murder anyone there's still a chance for you."

The quiet around their campfire was loud and Ivan continued, "You haven't done any of those. Have you?" He peered at Quinton oddly. "Nick."

"No." Quinton abruptly shook his hand. "Nothing that severe. I um..." He looked up at the gleaming moon fabricating a story.

"No judgement here." Ivan reassured.

"Elsa thinks I graduated from FAMU." He lowered his gaze and on instinct he found her in a huddle of people engrossed in conversation. "She's a teacher. She loves education but didn't graduate. I dropped out after two years only getting enough credits to join the force. I needed a check more than a diploma."

It was close to the truth as he could get. He didn't drop out of college. Nor did he go to FAMU but he did leave the police department for the FBI for better pay.

"You had to have food and shelter. Understandable." Ivan nodded. "Elsa seems like a smart, compassionate woman from the brief conversation we had early. I'm sure she'd understand. Plus, you seem like a bright man. You don't need a diploma to be intelligent. Libraries and book exist."

"And Google." Quinton added with a smirk.

"That too." Ivan wagged his finger at him eagerly then seriousness cloaked has rotund face as Elsa and his wife made their way towards them. "It's telling the lie that will hinder you but the sooner you tell her the better it'll be. Postponing it will just infuriated her more."

Quinton nodded and said, "I'll tell her first thing in the morning." He wanted to salvage and enjoy the rest of the night.

"On Christmas." Ivan sighed loudly. "You better have one hell of a present." He snapped as if he had the best idea of the year. "She's an art teacher, right." Quinton nodded and he continued. "Then come to business partner's Christmas party. He's an art collector and I'm sure that'll quell some of her fury with you."

"Thanks," Quinton sounded just as Elsa and Mrs. Wallace reached them. He held out his hand for her and she took it.

She gave him a onceover as if she was looking for something then said, "You need help making smore's?"

He kissed the back of her gloved hand and replied. "Yes, please."

"Well, if you're going to beg. I guess I'll help you." She smiled at him and he relished in the presence of her adoring attention knowing he wouldn't have it for long. As she plunged a pair of marshmallows on a skewer, he hoped that when he begged for forgiveness, she'd grant his plea.