Текст книги "The Play"

Автор книги: Karina Halle

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 28 страниц)

“Yes, Mom, I know. The daughter you never had.”

“Oh, I only say that because I know how much she means to you. I was very happy to see her finally settle down. Now that can happen for you.”

Oh god. Oh god, no.

I look up, hoping that Lachlan is preoccupied, that he can’t hear us at all. But no. That would be asking too much. He’s standing right there, mixing something in a bowl, and those gorgeous, inquisitive eyes are peering into mine.

I tear myself away from him. “That’s not going to happen,” I tell my mom, maybe more harshly than I meant to. “Lachlan is leaving on Sunday.”

She frowns, her needles pausing mid clickety-clack. “Leaving where?”

“Back to Scotland. If you couldn’t tell, he’s from there.”

“Oh,” she says, blinking hard. “Oh dear. That’s terrible. Are you going with him?”

I let out a sharp, caustic laugh. Mainly from shock. “Yeah right!” I cry out. “No. No, he’s actually a very successful rugby player in Edinburgh. He’s got everything waiting for him. And I have, well, I have everything that I have here.”

Which was what? Nothing?

No. Not nothing. My mom. My brothers. My floundering career and my happily-coupled friends.

It was something.

But it wasn’t the something I wanted.

That something was a future filled with hope.

That something was in the kitchen.

That something was unattainable.

That something was burning a hole into me with his eyes. I didn’t even have to look to know. I could feel it. I was so good at feeling his eyes on my skin, always wanting more from me than flesh.

“That’s a shame,” she says. She goes back to her knitting, but her posture loses that verve she had before. Is it possible that my mother would rather me go chasing some beautiful man across the Atlantic Ocean than stay in San Francisco and keep on keeping on? I try not to think about it. In the end, what she wants, hell, what I want, doesn’t really have any bearing on the reality: Lachlan is going back.

And I barely know him.

Thankfully she doesn’t bring him up anymore, and by the time the show is over, he announces with that deep voice of his that dinner is ready.

My mom and I exchange a curious look and head into the kitchen.

Damn.

Just, damn it.

Lachlan has not only put placemats with place settings out, but there’s a nice bottle of red wine in the middle and flickering candles. He moves around like he grew up in this kitchen as I had.

“Sit, please,” he says, gesturing to the chairs. He goes beyond gesturing when it comes to my mom and holds out the chair for her before pushing it in. Then he heads for the kitchen counter, and when he comes back, he places a bowl of mashed potatoes and a dish of chicken parmigiana on the table. Not exactly two things that would go together, but it looks absolutely delicious and smells even better.

“How did you learn to do this?” I ask him. It’s not that he shouldn’t be able to throw a few things together, but it looks so freaking good.

He nods at the plate. “Just try it first and then ask me. I can’t make any promises,” he says, sitting down between us.

I take a bite of the mashed potatoes. They’re better than the ones at Thanksgiving, with just a kick of pepper or some kind of spice. As for the chicken, it melts in your goddamn mouth.

I’m practically glaring at him. “So,” I say between bites, pointing my fork at him. “Last night’s appetizer wasn’t some once in a blue moon thing for you.”

He smirks then rubs his fingers across his lips, taking on a serious face. “I like to cook when I can.”

“You should cook all the time,” my mother says. “This is very, very good.”

“And you should take that as a compliment since she barely eats my food,” I tell him, kicking him lightly under the table.

“Oh, that’s not true,” my mother chides me, but it is totally true. I do my best, but the kitchen has never been my strong suit. When it comes to Lachlan though, it’s one of his many fucking strong suits. I swear to god there is nothing he can’t do.

Why the hell did I have to meet this beast, this superman, who blows my mind in the bedroom, mows down rugby players for a living, rescues helpless animals, looks like a fucking god, and happens to cook, just before he has to leave? Why is life so damn cruel?

“Here I was thinking all you Scots knew how to make was haggis,” I tell him, pushing the heaviness out of my chest and trying to focus on what’s in front of me.

“Oh, I can make some pretty stellar haggis,” he says. “If I had more time here, I’d see what I could do.”

I manage a smile. “As much as I wish you had more time, I’m glad I’m missing out on that.”

After dinner, my mother insists on dessert and brings out the matcha green tea ice cream, something Lachlan’s never had before.

“This is gorgeous,” he says between spoonfuls.

“I grew up on the stuff,” I tell him. “Do you know my favorite thing to eat as a child was sheets and sheets of nori? You know, dried seaweed.”

“It is true,” my mom says with a gentle laugh. “I bought them for sushi, but I would always have to hide them from her. When I found the packets later, they were torn into, like some mouse had gotten into them.”

“Strange little creature,” he comments warmly, sitting back in his chair, studying me. “What else did you get up to as a child?”

“Oh, she was up to everything,” my mother says quickly. “No different than she is now. But she had four older brothers to keep her in line. Brian, Nikko, Paul, and Toshio. Kayla was our little angel. She popped up one day when her father and I never thought I could get pregnant. I never thought I would get my little girl. But here she is.”

My cheeks grow hot, and I busy myself by swirling the ice cream into green soup.

“Unfortunately,” my mom adds, “she was an absolute terror.”

I glare at her while Lachlan lets out a laugh. “Mom,” I warn her.

“Oh, she was,” she says, leaning forward toward Lachlan, her eyes shining. “Even as a little girl, she’d run away from you every chance she got. If it wasn’t for her brothers, I’m sure we would have lost her for good one day. They were good for that, being protective.”

“Yeah, but then in high school it got a bit annoying,” I remind her.

“For you,” she says in jest. “But for us, it was a godsend. She was a boy crazy little girl, you see.”

“Oh, is that so?” Lachlan asks me with large eyes, clearly enjoying this.

“Yes, very much so,” my mom says before I can neither confirm nor deny. “Every day she had a new crush from school. Billy this or Tommy that. She got in trouble once for kissing a boy and making him cry.”

I bury my face in my hands and groan.

Lachlan is laughing hard, such a nice sound, even if it’s at my expense. “What did you do, Kayla?”

I keep my face buried and don’t answer because I know my mom will.

And she does. “The teacher told me that the boy didn’t want to kiss her, so she held him down, and when he tried to run, she punched him in the stomach.”

“You might have been a natural at rugby after all,” he says between laughs.

“So,” my mom goes on, “by the time she got to high school, her brothers acted like chaperones. The poor girl couldn’t go anywhere without them knowing about it. All the boys were kept at bay.”

“Well, I don’t blame your brothers for being protective of you,” Lachlan says. “You were probably as stunning in high school as you are right now.”

Oh god. I look up, and he’s staring at me so sincerely it hurts. My face burns even more at the compliment.

“Look, you’ve made her blush,” my mother says, which isn’t helping. “You’ve gotten under her skin.”

“Okay,” I say quickly, getting to my feet. “I’m going to the bathroom. When I get back, can we all agree not to embarrass me anymore?”

“But I love watching you get embarrassed,” Lachlan practically purrs.

I give him the finger, which of course causes my mother to gasp in outrage, and I stride down the hall to the bathroom, shutting myself in. I take a long, deep breath. My heart is racing, and I don’t know why. Everything is going so well, but all it does is make me worry. There’s this space behind my heart, a little hole, and it’s slowly getting bigger.

I run a washcloth under the cold water and dab my face. I’m still blushing, much like the way I look after sex. Perhaps that’s why Lachlan wants me to be embarrassed.

When I leave the bathroom, Lachlan is sitting in the living room and my mom is trying to make some tea.

“Here, go sit down,” I tell her, taking the kettle from her hands.

She places her hand over mine. For a moment I stare at it—pale, wrinkled beautifully, speckled with age spots. My mother’s hands, hands that have seen me through my whole life, are shaking slightly. When did that start to happen? The shakes?

But I don’t ask her because she’s looking up at me adoringly.

“You shouldn’t let him leave,” she tells me quietly. Her grip on my hand strengthens, the shakes abating slightly. “He is such the man for you.”

I give her a quick smile and gently pull the kettle away from her. “I honestly don’t know him well enough to think that.” I swallow and look out at the living room where he’s watching TV. “I wish I did though.”

“Sometimes you don’t need to know someone to know them,” she says. “And when he looks at you, you can tell. He knows you.” Then she pads her way out of the kitchen to join him. I shiver, suddenly cold, and get the tea ready. We drink cups and cups of it, watching an episode of my mother’s other favorite show, NCIS, until it starts getting late, and I know Lachlan has to check on Emily.

For some reason it’s hard to say goodbye to my mom this time. Maybe because I’ve been extra emotional all night. I hug her longer than I normally do and tell her I’ll be by next week. Maybe I can drag Toshio with me.

Lachlan bends down and envelops my tiny mother in a bear hug. Every inch of me dissolves at the sight.

I have completely melted.

“Your mother is lovely,” Lachlan says to me quietly during the car ride back into the city.

“That she is,” I say, glad he was so charmed by her. And equally as glad she was so charmed by him.

“You said before that she was sick,” he says, putting his hand behind my neck and rubbing his thumb against my skin. “What’s wrong with her?”

My grip on the steering wheel tightens. “I’m not really sure.” I lick my lips, trying to remember. “It started after my father died. She was a wreck for a long time. We all were. She was severely depressed, and I guess all that pain inside started making its way outside. Some doctors say its chronic fatigue syndrome, others say it’s still depression and anxiety. She doesn’t sleep well and her blood pressure is always through the roof. Her muscles ache all the time. I don’t know what to think. But it’s been going on for years.”

And her shaking hands, well I hope that’s just because she was overexcited about Lachlan and me being there.

“Do you have good doctors here in America?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No. Well, yeah. If you can pay for them. She never worked, so she doesn’t have benefits that a lot of people her age would. But my brothers and I, we pay for it. We try and get the best for her, a whole bunch of different opinions. Honestly,” I say, eyeing him briefly. “I think she’s still suffering from a broken heart.”

He gives me a tight smile. “There are big risks to falling in love.”

I nod and look back to the road. “Big risks.”

When we get back to his apartment, Lachlan invites me up. I hesitate. I want to go, I want to be with him every way I can. But there’s something heavy on my chest, and if I sleep with him tonight, I feel it will get even worse. I need to be alone to process it. I need to build back my strength by myself. For such a strong man, he only makes me weaker.

That night, alone in bed, I stare at the empty pillow beside me and wonder what it would be like to always have someone there.

Then I wonder what it would be like to never have someone there again.

How far can you fall for someone until you have to call it love?

I hope I never find out.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Kayla

At work on Friday, the time passes by like molasses. I stare at the clock on my computer monitor, counting down the minutes, the seconds, until I can go home, get my bags, get Lachlan, and head to Napa.

But when the proverbial whistle blows and I’m all ready and waiting outside his apartment, whatever excitement I had all day has been replaced by acute fear. This is the last time I’ll be here, picking him up. After Sunday, he’s gone.

Even though I didn’t sleep with him after my mother’s on Wednesday night, yesterday was a different story. I went right over to his apartment after work, strode inside, and fucked his brains out. In his bedroom, of course, away from the judgemental eyes of Emily. Whatever strange melancholy that had gripped me at my mother’s house wasn’t present. I lost myself to his body in every way that I could, literally screwing him sideways until two in the morning, when I finally pried myself away and went back home to sleep.

But now, now that I’m waiting for him, now that we’re about to embark on our last few days together, that melancholy is back, humming in my soul like a tune you can’t forget.

It gets a little better though, as things often do, when I finally see Lachlan.

He takes hulking strides toward the car, duffle bag on one shoulder, pet crate in hand. He’s wearing his hiking boots, blue jeans with rips in them, a white t-shirt that perfectly showcases those traps, those shoulders, the swirl of tattoos down his arms. My breath hitches, my legs clench, the heat inside burns and burns. His effect on me will never be duplicated.

He opens the back door and puts the crate inside. I look behind me at Emily. Her scruffy little face is at the gate. I’m prepared for her to growl or at least show some teeth, but she just eyes me for a moment before her gaze goes back to Lachlan. It’s obvious the dog adores him; she can barely look away. I wonder if that’s how I appear.

“Hello, love,” he says to me as he gets in the front seat. He leans forward, cups my jaw in his hand, and gives me a long, slow kiss that makes my heart skip a few beats.

I grin at him, wiggling in my seat from excitement, and then jerk my thumb at the back seat. “She seems to be warming up to me.”

“I told you she’d come around,” he says, putting his large hand on my bare thigh as we drive off.

The journey to Napa is a gorgeous one. I opt for the longer route, heading over the Golden Gate Bridge, purely because it’s more scenic and it gives me more time alone with him before I have to share him with everyone else. The temperature climbs as we head inland. Soon, the sun is baking us, our windows are down, and we are blasting down two-lane highways, the smell of vineyards and warmed fields blowing through the car.

“What if we keep driving forever?” I ask him dreamily, the soulful lament of Lana Del Rey’s “Honeymoon” pouring from the speakers.

“What if we do?” he asks, playing along.

“Where would we go?”

“Does it matter?” His voice is so beautifully hopeful that I have to look at him. He gives me a quick smile and props his elbow on the open window, running his fingers over his chin and staring off at the dry hills.

No. It wouldn’t matter. We could find a field, a cabin, a mountain stream. We could go north or south or east. We could pull down the next country road and set up camp around the car, just him, me, and Emily. We could take time and stretch it between our fingers and spend an eternity in each other’s arms.

But reality doesn’t work like that. Not that reality has handed us such a bum deal today. When we reach Napa and I pull the car into the massive parking lot of the Meritage Hotel, I’m incredibly grateful that Bram organized this whole thing—a way for him to see his cousin before he goes and a way for me to do the same.

“Well this is bloody nice,” Lachlan says quietly as we get out of the car and gather our stuff. The heat blankets us as we cross the lot and enter the hotel lobby. Immediately we see the gang.

“Heeeeeeeeeeey!” Bram yells with a big smile, glass of red wine in his hand, coming over to us. He pulls Lachlan into a hug, slapping him on the back, and then does the same to me.

“My god, Bram, are you drunk already?” I ask as he pulls away.

“We got here early,” he says, and gestures to the rest of them. Linden and Steph stroll over, also with wine, while I spot Nicola in the background talking to someone at the front desk.

“Hey you two,” Steph says, hugging me as Bram did, though she doesn’t do the same to Lachlan. Her eyes wander up and down, almost as if she’s intimidated by him. Maybe because Lachlan is frowning at her something fierce. I know that being around a bunch of people has probably put him on edge already, and I reach out for his hand, giving it a squeeze.

He seems to relax before my eyes, and Steph’s gaze bounces between us. She gives me a small smile, and Linden steps in to give his cousin one of those handshakes that takes up the whole forearm.

“Glad you came,” Linden says before he spots the dog carrier. He drops to a crouch and says, “Aw, who is this?”

Emily immediately starts barking at him which makes Linden jump back and up. “Jesus, Lachlan, he’s as surly as you.”

“She,” Lachlan corrects. “This is Miss Emily.”

Linden snorts. “Bit of a pansy name for a dog. And you named her?”

“Aye,” Lachlan says, staring Linden down with a hint of crazy eyes.

“Let’s get us checked in,” I say, pulling on Lachlan’s arm and leading him over to the front desk.

“Are you okay?” I whisper.

He grunts in response. I assume that means he’s fine. Or that I shouldn’t worry about it anyway.

We say hi to Nicola when we check in, and once we get the keys to our room, she tells me to come meet them at the wine cellar on property for a group wine tasting, even though it seems that they’ve been doing plenty of tasting on their own already.

Our room is on the ground floor and done up in the Mediterranean style. Lachlan lets Emily out of the crate, then sticks her on a leash, opening the door to our patio and leading her outside to pee. I quickly freshen up in the bathroom, stretching my limbs after being cooped up in the car, and then flounce on the king-size bed, testing the firmness of the mattress. It feels like a dream. I could fuck all night on it.

When he comes back in, Emily hops up on the bed beside me, and I realize that fucking the day and night away might be difficult when the dog will be watching our every move again.

Lachlan lies down beside me on his back, putting his thick arm across my stomach. I watch him inhale and exhale, his chest rising and falling.

“Already feel like being antisocial?” I ask him.

“Mmmm,” he says, staring at me. “I’d rather be in here with you.”

“Well, if you have anything amorous planned, we may have to do it outside. Miss Emily here will be watching our every move.”

He shrugs. “So we’ll put her in the bathroom.”

“She’ll bark.”

He sighs. “Yes, she will.”

I turn into him and run my finger over his forehead, smoothing out the creases. “Always so expressive,” I tell him, pressing into the notch between his brows. “Always thinking about something.”

“I’d pay to have someone turn off my brain, to be honest,” he says. I trail my finger down his nose, over the slight bump, then the curve of his lips. He opens them, taking my fingertip between his teeth and biting down gently.

I watch him closely, and I can see those wheels turning. I lower my voice a register. “I know just the thing to make it stop.” I take my finger out of his mouth and kiss him softly. He lets out a faint moan that I can feel in my core. I put my hand on his chest and push myself back. “But first, let’s go to the wine tasting.”

He shuts his eyes and his head flops back onto the pillow. “Do we have to? Why can’t we just stay here and you do that thing that turns off my thoughts, and I’ll do that thing that makes your cunt wetter than a waterslide.”

“Come on,” I tell him, throwing his arm off me and getting up. “We’re doing this because you want to see your cousins before you go, and they want to see you. Let’s just have some wine and disappear.”

He grumbles at that, but gets up. We leave Emily with her dinner and some water then head out into the hotel.

The building itself is huge, and we find ourselves strolling through courtyards and past the opulent pool area. It’s busy, and everyone seems to have a glass of wine in hand which makes something in my head stutter and pause. Maybe a vineyard wasn’t really the best place to bring Lachlan.

I glance up at him as he walks beside me, eyes darting around, never resting in one place. I take in what I know about him. Behavioral problems. Tattoos that hint at a past shadowed with downfall and demons. The fact that he doesn’t drink much, if at all, might not just be about the rugby training. It might be about a whole other thing.

But he hasn’t said anything to me about it, and because it’s so personal, I’m not going to ask. People who are fucking for a week don’t need to disclose the nitty gritty, perhaps painful, details of their lives to each other.

The wine cellar is located in the Estate Cave which is set right into the rolling hillside of grape vines that flank the back of the property. Inside it’s cool and dim, with the spa entrance to the left of us and the wine tasting bar to the right. Ahead of us are big dark doors that just beg to be pushed open.

I’m in the middle of doing so, peeking my head inside to see a large, empty cavern with curved stone walls and hanging chandeliers, when Lachlan pulls me back and Steph is screeching in my ear.

“Yay, you came!” she says, and when I turn to look at her, she gives me a sloppy kiss on the cheek. I exchange a look with Lachlan. She’s even drunker than before.

“Of course we came,” I tell her as she beckons us to follow her into the bar. There are a few people lined up along its length, looking over lists and being doted on by wannabe sommeliers, but we follow Steph to the back where they’re all sitting around a private table.

They all cheer when they see us, and I give them a quick one-handed wave in response.

“So,” I say, looking over their empty, wine-stained glasses. “You’ve got quite the head start.”

“We’re just one drink in,” Nicola says, gesturing to the two empty seats next to her. Lachlan and I both sit down, and the wine girl appears immediately.

“Hi,” she says in an overly bubbly voice. I guess you have to be bubbly if you want to sell expensive crates of vintage. “Let me top you two off. We started off with a light sauvignon blanc blend.” She reaches with her bottle, expertly pouring in a mouthful, but when she moves for Lachlan’s glass, he puts his hand over it.

“I shouldn’t,” he says, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

I look at Bram curiously to see if this is odd behavior from his cousin or not. Bram in turn is watching Lachlan carefully, though he doesn’t seem surprised.

“Would you like another kind of wine?” the girl asks.

“Give him the red,” Linden says. “He seems more like a red wine kind of guy. Right? Less sugar in red wine.”

Bram gives his brother a conflicted look and opens his mouth to say something when Lachlan shrugs and removes his hand from the glass.

“Sure, red is fine,” he concedes.

I feel like everyone around the table has suddenly tensed, making Lachlan the center of attention so I quickly say, “Bram, thank you so much for arranging this.”

And then everyone’s attention is on Bram with numerous expressions of gratitude. I put my hand on Lachlan’s leg, his muscles flexing as he anxiously taps his foot on the floor.

The wine girl, whose name tag reads “Jennifer Rodriguez,” comes back and pours Lachlan a hefty dollop of their red grenache blend. She’s actually quite attractive in the white teeth, tanned skin, wavy, honey-colored hair, overly obnoxious way. She won’t stop making eyes at Lachlan either.

But she doesn’t even appear on his radar. While she’s giving him all the information on the wine, babbling on, her eyes flitting over his tattoos, the bulk of his arms and shoulders, he doesn’t even look at her once. He just takes a sip of the wine and nods.

The rest of us don’t get the same amount of attention, although the wine is quite good. Bram asks a million questions about everything we drink, but Jenn’s attention is always on Lachlan. At one point she actually touches his bicep and coos over it.

“I love your tattoos. My ex-boyfriend used to have a fleur-di-lis on his arm and a quote across his chest. I always thought they were very sexy on men.”

I’m so close to telling her to step off but Lachlan folds his hands in front of him and calmly looks up at her. “Just pour the wine, darling.”

Jenn immediately looks flustered, her pouty mouth dropping for a moment, but then she steps into professional mode, sparing herself from further humiliation. I feel like giving Lachlan a high-five but keep my small triumph to myself.

We’re a few wine glasses in and Bram has started filling out an order form to bring back a crate of his favorite when Lachlan leans into me and whispers, “Meet me outside in a few minutes.” He then gets up and strides out of the bar.

I turn around to face everyone else and they’re all looking at me expectantly.

“What?” I ask, finishing off my wine.

“What’s with him?” Linden asks.

“He’s your cousin. You know how he is.”

“Yeah,” he says, “but at this point, I think you may know him better.”

I look at Bram for backup but he just goes back to filling out the order form. “I’m afraid Linden is right, Kayla. You’re the expert now.”

“He is so sweet on you,” Nicola adds, her eyes all warm and gooey.

“So sweet on me?” I repeat. “First of all, we’re not in the fucking south, okay? Second of all, that man is not sweet on anything. Except maybe dogs.”

Well, and he was pretty sweet with my mother the other night.

Steph violently shakes her head. “No, no, no. Then you don’t see what we see. He wants you, Kayla.”

I roll my eyes. “Well, that’s a given at this point.”

“No,” she says, louder now, and Linden has to shush her. Good lord, they’re all getting drunker by the minute. “No, let me say this,” she says, pushing her hand against Linden’s face and smushing it. “Let me say this, okay? Let me say this.”

I stare at her and gesture with open palms. “Okay, drunky. Say it.”

She leans forward, eyes wide with urgency. “He wants you. Like…he’s in love with you.”

That proclamation emits a simultaneous groan from both Linden and Bram.

“Don’t get carried away,” Bram chides.

“You women think that any man who gets his dick in you is in love with you,” Linden says to her.

“Hey,” I say sharply, jabbing my finger at him. “Please don’t lump me into the ‘you women’ category. And I happen to know for a fact that none of us here think that, especially your little wife who was in love with you loooong before you got your stupid dick in her.”

Steph glares at Linden, and I continue. “And for fuck’s sake, we barely know each other. We’re fucking, so let us fuck and shut the hell up about it.” I look at Steph. “And please, the last thing I need is for anyone to get crazy, unrealistic notions inside my head. No one loves anyone. I don’t know Lachlan and he doesn’t know me, and we’re both fine with that. We have to be fine with that because he’s leaving in forty-eight hours for a land far, far away. So please, just let us have our time with each other until then. We don’t need any complications. We don’t need love, or even feelings, because what we do have is hot as hell and fleeting, and I’m going to suck up as much good fucking sex as I can with him. Got it?”

Bram, Nicola, Steph, and Linden are staring at me wide-eyed.

“Jeez,” Linden finally says, “I was just joking. Touchy, touchy.”

“Well I’m not joking,” I tell him, getting out of my seat. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go find him. When we come back, I hope to god none of you utter the L-word or any other word except for ‘goodbye,’ okay?”

I turn on my heel and march past the wine bar, half the patrons looking at me as I go, since my outburst was probably a little too loud. Still, that made me angry as hell. Why did people always have to try and complicate shit? Why couldn’t people just fuck and that be the end of it? I mean, my friends never even knew the names of any of the men I slept with after Kyle. Why does it have to be so freaking difficult with Lachlan?

Because you do have feelings for him, my inner voice whispers to me. Because you are falling for him.

“Argh,” I growl to myself, hands on my ears, turning around in circles in the cave’s foyer. “I don’t want Steph to be right.”

“Kayla?” I hear Lachlan’s voice.

I stop spinning and look up to see him on the other side of the heavy door, in the dim cave I looked into earlier, staring at me with his usual concern.

“Yeah,” I say, feigning normalness. “Hi.”

He frowns deeper then gestures with his head to come inside.

I step in through the doors and he carefully closes them behind me. I look around. The cold stone walls are curved with buttresses, making the room take the shape of half a wine barrel. I take a few steps forward and peer down the rest of the empty hall. It looks like the kind of place where you’d have a Game of Thrones wedding, complete with alcoves and elaborate candelabras.

“What were you saying out there?” he asks softly, coming up behind me and placing his hands around the small of my waist. His breath smells like wine. “You don’t want Steph to be right about what?”

“Don’t worry about it,” I tell him, closing my eyes and leaning my head against his chest. “Stupid girl nonsense.”

“Mmmm. Sorry I took off like that,” he murmurs against the top of my head. “There’s only so much I can handle.”

I’m not sure if he means the wine or the social situations, so I don’t say anything except, “I wanted to get out of there too.”

“Good,” he murmurs, his hand briefly sliding over my hip. I want him to slip it lower, in between my legs, and flip up the hem of my dress, but he takes my hand instead. “Come here.”

He leads me down the long, cavernous hall, my sandals echoing as we walk. At the end, there is a large ornate mirror and a hall leading to the left and right. To the left it’s blocked by a heavy door, and to the right there is a locked, floor-to-ceiling iron gate between the room and what looks like a hall to a maintenance area. A cart full of towels sits outside an open door, but there doesn’t seem to be anyone around.