Текст книги "A Little Too Much"

Автор книги: Lisa Desrochers

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

“You should stay here tonight,” he finally says, releasing me from both his grasp and his gaze. “It’s too late for you to be wandering around the city, and I doubt you’re planning on returning to your apartment tonight?”

I blow out the breath I was holding. “Try never again.”

“I can sleep here,” he says, motioning to the couch. “You can have the bed.”

“What a gentleman,” I say with a sniffle and a smirk.

He smiles. “Anything for a damsel in distress.”

I follow him to the bathroom. He pulls a spare toothbrush, still in its package, out of his drawer and lays it on the counter. “If you want to shower, be my guest. There are fresh towels here,” he says, opening the cabinet. He leads me to the alcove where his double bed is and I feel an ache in my belly thinking about sleeping in it, surrounded by his spicy scent. He opens the top drawer of his dresser. “Would you like a fresh T-shirt to sleep in?”

And that’s when I realize I’m still in my smelly Filthy’s T-shirt. “Yeah, thanks. That would be great.”

He pulls out a black T-shirt and lays it on the corner of the bed.

“I think I will shower,” I say, because I feel disgusting in more ways than one.

He nods. “If I can steal a minute in the bathroom first . . . ?”

“Yeah, sure. Go ahead.”

He hesitates for a second, then grasps my elbow and presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth. “I’ll be right out.”

Butterflies erupt in my stomach, but then he’s gone behind the bathroom door.

A few minutes later, he’s back. “All yours,” he says with a wave of his hand.

“Thanks.” I take the T-shirt and close the door behind me.

His tub is an old claw-foot with a showerhead mounted on the wall and a curtain all the way around. I pull the curtain closed and turn on the water. While it warms, I quickly peel off my Filthy’s T-shirt and jeans, then climb in. The water feels so good, tiny fingers washing all the shit away. I stand in it for a long time, then reach for Alessandro’s soap and hold it to my nose. It smells tangy—tangerine, maybe—and I recognize it as the scent under his spicy cologne. I lather up and shampoo, then rinse and turn off the water. As I stand in the tub and drip, I listen for Alessandro, but the apartment is quiet. Maybe he’s asleep.

I step out and dry off, then tug Alessandro’s T-shirt over my head. It’s soft and comfortable and smells like fresh laundry, and somehow just that makes me feel calmer. I turn out the light and slip out the door, and find the apartment dark except for the sidelight on the nightstand next to the bed. Alessandro is lying on the couch in a slant of moonlight, bare-chested with a sheet over his lower half, where I see a Calvin Klein waistband poking out. The sight stalls my feet . . . and my heart.

I wasn’t imagining the body. He’s lean and sculpted, but not bulky. Those pecs are truly spectacular . . . and the cut abs. But it’s the arm tucked behind his head that draws my attention and makes my heart thump back into rhythm: the thick vein snaking along his forearm and up his bulging biceps, the lean triceps, the long fingers curled into wavy black hair that’s a little mussed. My groin tightens and, damn if I don’t want to crawl onto that couch with him.

But I can’t want him like that. This can’t happen.

I shouldn’t have come here.

He presses those lean arms into the cushions and pulls himself to a sitting position, and, in the dim light, I can see the fire in his eyes. He doesn’t say a word, but I know from that look that he wouldn’t turn me away if I went to him.

I stand here for a few more beats of my racing heart, torn between what I know is right and the pull of that gaze. Finally, I give in to the pull. Despite the hot shower, I’m a little numb as I move toward him. He slides over and makes room for me and I lie next to him. He folds me into those arms, and at the feel of them around me my breath catches on a sigh. I burrow into his side and lay my head on his arm. His lips are soft against my forehead, and I feel his hot breath, a little ragged, as he strokes my hair. But his hands don’t touch any other part of me.

I lay my palm lightly on his chest, and my heart constricts as I feel him tense, his breathing stopping for a beat. But when I don’t move it lower, he relaxes a little. We lie here for a long time, his breath on my face and the feel of his hard body against mine doing things to the deepest parts of me.

“Good night, Hilary,” he finally whispers.

“ ’Night,” I whisper back. I work to keep my breathing even as I lie here in Alessandro’s arms, pressed against his perfect, half-naked body, wanting more of him, but knowing I can never have it.

And it’s a really long time before I can sleep.

Chapter Nineteen

“STOP!”

Alessandro’s shout, and the feeling of his body jerking under mine, wakes me from a sound sleep and catapults my heart into my throat.

It’s light outside, soft morning rays painting the walls of Alessandro’s studio with pale pink and gold streaks.

I try to move and feel my limbs twisted into Alessandro’s. He’s hot and I see the sheen of sweat on his forehead as he looks down at me with tortured eyes.

“Did I . . . ?” He rakes a hand through his hair and pulls himself up to sit on the couch. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”

I sit next to him, catching my breath. “What happened?”

“Nothing. I’m sorry.”

“Was it a dream?” Does he have nightmares?

“I’m sorry,” he says again, diverting his gaze, as if he’s embarrassed. He pulls himself to his feet and I see he’s in nothing but a snug pair of white Calvin Klein boxer briefs. For a second I can’t breathe. “I’m going to shower,” he says, reaching up to grasp the hair on the back of his head and flexing that perfect bicep. “Go back to sleep.”

He steps into the bathroom, and a second later the water starts.

I stand and his T-shirt falls around me, and that’s when I realize I just slept all night on a couch with the hottest man I know, in a T-shirt and no underwear. And nothing happened. I’m still standing here trying to figure out how this is going to go when the water turns off. Alessandro step out of the bathroom a moment later with a towel tucked low on his hips. Just the sight of those long, lean arms, the flat, ripped abs, the dark happy trail disappearing under white cotton, knocks the air out of my lungs.

“I neglected to wish you a Merry Christmas in my hurry a moment ago,” he says.

“Christmas?” Lost in my fantasy, I’d forgotten. The reality check shocks me out of my daze.

“All day.” He opens the middle drawer of his dresser and pulls out what looks like a pair of black boxer briefs, then moves to his closet and slips them on under his towel.

“I’m supposed to go to Mallory’s this morning,” I say as I get my bearings.

“I can walk you to the subway as soon as we’re dressed.” He drops the towel and slips on a pair of jeans.

Damn, he’s perfect.

“Yeah . . . okay.” I grab my jeans, bra, and underwear and move past him into the bathroom. “Just give me a sec.”

I close the door and pull my phone out of my pocket. Eight thirty. Christ, it’s early. I see the missed call and my stomach knots. Brett, from just after I walked out. But there’s no voice mail. I don’t return it.

I tug my clothes on, then wet my fingers and run them through my kinks, taking a second to twist a few into ringlets. Once I’ve splash some water on my face and brushed my teeth, I look in the mirror. That’s as good as it’s going to get.

Alessandro has my jacket on the arm of the couch when I come out, and on top of it is a small box wrapped in green paper. “What’s this?” I say, picking it up.

“Your Christmas gift.”

“I have one for you too. It’s back at . . .” Damn. Brett’s. I cringe. “Sorry. It’s at the apartment.”

His lips press into a line. “I’d rather you didn’t go back there.”

“All my stuff is there,” I say, looking down at Alessandro’s T-shirt. “I have to go back.”

“Then I’m coming with you.”

“Why?”

He looks at me for several seconds. “Because I would just feel better if you let me come. Besides, I might be useful.”

I think about my coffee table. There’s no way I’m leaving it behind for that asshole. “Yeah . . . okay.”

I slip the bow off his gift slowly and peel the paper back, revealing a white box. I pull it open, and inside is a delicate silver chain with a tiny orange-and-black butterfly pendant. “It’s one of our butterflies . . . from the park.”

“They’re painted ladies. I looked it up. They sometimes migrate through New York in May, but not always through the city. We were just lucky I guess. I found this at the Natural History Museum gift shop,” he says, fingering the pendant.

I’m going to cry. I’ve done more of that in the last few weeks than I’ve done in the last eight years. I dig my nails into my palm to make myself stop. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

He loops a finger under the chain. “May I?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

He plucks the necklace from the box and I spin, lifting my hair so he can fasten it around my neck.

“Got it,” he says after a minute. His fingers brush over the nape of my neck as he lowers his hand and I shudder.

I lower my hair and touch it, where it sits just below the notch of my throat. “How does it look?”

“Beautiful,” he says, smiling down at me. His eyes lift slightly, to my lips, and I can’t help biting the lower one now that he’s looking at them. His eyes seem to lose focus for a minute, but then he clears his throat. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’m going to be.”

He picks up my coat and holds it open for me. I let him slip it on and wrap my scarf around my neck as he shrugs into his.

We head toward the subway, and when we turn onto Christopher Street, people are streaming into the red brick church there. Alessandro’s feet slow and I reach for his hand.

“Have you gone back?”

He shakes his head without taking his eyes off the front doors.

“Do you want to?”

He takes a breath and lets it out slowly. “I think maybe it’s time.”

When we walk inside, the place is standing room only. Alessandro hesitates before dipping his fingers in the holy water at the door and crossing himself. I think about skipping it, but instead, copy what he did. We move along the back of the church and tuck into a spot along the wall, between a woman with a squirming kid about Henri’s age and an old man in a wheelchair. Mass is just starting and I watch all the pomp and circumstance on the altar and try to decipher what it all means. About a half hour in, after a few hymns, people start lining up in the aisle for something.

“What are they doing?” I whisper to Alessandro.

“Holy Communion,” he whispers back.

“Are you going?”

His jaw tightens. “I’m deciding.”

“You should go,” I whisper, squeezing his hand.

He glances down at me, with a hint of panic in his eyes. He still doesn’t think he belongs here.

As people start filing back up the side aisle to their pews, I catch a glimpse of Jess, walking with her hands clasped and her head bowed. Just as she reaches her pew, she looks up and sees me. Her eyes widen and she smiles as they flick to Alessandro. She sends me a secret smile and an eyebrow wiggle before sliding into her pew and kneeling with her hands folded on the pew back in front of her.

The longer it goes, the more tension I feel radiate off Alessandro. Finally, just as the line is at its end, I give him a gentle shove and he strides up the aisle to the front. He takes the communion and is back at my side in a minute. He bows his head and looks like he’s praying, and maybe trying not to cry, so I leave him alone.

When it’s all over and people start filing out, Jess fights her way up the side aisle to where we are.

“Hilary!” she says, throwing a hug around me. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s a long, sad story, but the short version is, I came with Alessandro,” I say, waving a hand at him. “Alessandro, this is my friend Jessica.”

He holds out his hand. “It’s my pleasure, Jessica.”

“Call me Jess,” she says, shaking his hand.

“Alessandro! How nice to see you here!” a woman says from behind him, and when he steps aside, I see it’s Mrs. Burke, from his apartment building.

“Will you be okay for a minute?” Alessandro asks, squeezing my arm.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Stop worrying.”

His fingers sweep over my hand and I shiver as he turns to face her.

Jess pulls me back a little from where they’re talking. “Why is he worrying?” she asks low in my ear.

I rip my eyes away from Alessandro. “Because my life just went to shit.”

“Brett? Or your mom?”

“I broke up with Brett last night. No surprise, he threw me out.”

“About time.”

When I look at her, she’s raising her eyebrows at me. “That he threw me out?”

“You weren’t happy, Hilary. Anyone could see that. You should have ended it a long time ago.”

She’s right, so I don’t argue. “Well, now I’m homeless.”

“Hilary?” she says, exasperated, her eyes wide in a what-kind-of-idiot-are-you way.

“What?”

“I told you, I need a roommate. Mine’s moving out on the first.”

I’d totally forgot. After the month I’ve had, this feels like hitting the lottery. “You haven’t found anyone?”

She shakes her head. “I thought I had someone, but it fell through a few days ago. I was starting to panic.” She throws her arms around me again. “It’s karma, Hilary! It was meant to be! This is the universe telling us we’re supposed to be roomies!” But then she pulls away and her eyes flick to where Alessandro is trying to gracefully untangle himself from Mrs. Burke and three other ladies who are sort of swarming him. “So what’s the deal with you and the hottie with the hot accent? I thought you decided not to see him anymore.”

I shrug. “I just sort of ended up there last night.”

She looks at me with an expression that says, “And?”

I finger the butterfly pendant at my neck. “Nothing happened, Jess.”

Her mouth slants in a disappointed half frown as her eyes flick to Alessandro again. “You should come back to my place . . . unless you two have plans.”

“I have to get some of my stuff from Brett’s, and I promised Mallory I’d be there for Christmas.” I look at her. “Where are you going for Christmas?”

“Nowhere. Even if I could have gotten the time off, I couldn’t afford to go back to Biloxi.”

“You’re coming to Mallory’s with me,” I say as Alessandro steps up behind me and lays a hand on the small of my back.

“Are you ready?”

I turn to him, and for a second think about inviting him to Mallory’s too, but then realize that would be a very bad idea. “Yeah.”

We leave the church, and Jess and Alessandro walk ahead, chatting, as I dial Mallory. It’s early, but I know the boys are up. Henri was probably bouncing on Mallory and Jeff’s bed at five A.M.

I press call and wait two rings before Mallory answers. “Hilary. You’re up before noon!”

“Yeah, but I can’t make it this morning. I’ll try to come later.”

“Great,” she says, that familiar disappointment in her voice, and I can almost hear her eye roll. “Henri’s been waiting for you to open anything.”

“I’m sorry. I just . . .” I swallow and my dry throat clicks. “I left Brett last night.”

“Oh, no,” she gasps. “What happened?”

I squeeze my eyes shut. “I was just done, I guess.”

“Are you okay?” she asks warily.

“Yeah . . . I just need to get some things straightened out here. Will you wait dinner for me? I want to give the boys their presents. I have to go back to Brett’s to get them, but I’ll come for dinner, okay?”

“Will you be okay going back there? Don’t do it for the boys’ presents. They’ll get over it.”

“All my stuff’s there. I’ll be fine, though.”

Her breath blusters over the phone line as she breathes out a sigh. “Just be careful and we’ll see you later.”

Chapter Twenty

I RANG THE buzzer from downstairs, but Brett didn’t answer. He probably went to his parents’ in Connecticut for Christmas. I turn the key in the apartment door and push it open slowly, just to be sure he’s not still naked and passed out on the couch or something. When I find the living room is empty, I push the door wider and step through, Jess and Alessandro behind me.

“We’re gonna have to move that thing again,” I say with a gesture at the coffee table, looking back at Alessandro.

He smiles as if that’s in some way amusing.

“Let’s just get your stuff and get out of here,” Jess says, crossing toward the bedroom. “The energy in here sucks.”

But as she disappears through the door, I hear her, “Shit!” then the rustling of sheets and a “Get out!” that’s definitely not Jess’s.

Jess comes back out and looks at me. “Do you have a suitcase or something? I’ll get your clothes.”

Damn. “Brett’s in there?”

“Um . . . yeah,” she says with a glance back at the door. “You really don’t want to go in there.”

“Did that nimrod puke on himself again?” I say moving past her into the bedroom . . . and find Brett and Bambi twisted into the sheets.

Bambi? Seriously?

There’s a split second where I want to be mad, but out of nowhere, a giggle bursts up my throat. The next second, I’m bent at the waist cackling like a lunatic. Alessandro steps into the room, probably to see what’s so funny, and steps out again when he sees a buck-naked Bambi, sitting up in bed.

We’ve got priests and prostitutes and a gay girl from Biloxi. Yep, just your average Christmas morning.

Brett sits up and gives her a gentle shove, his blurry, bloodshot eyes never leaving me. He looks like something the cat threw up. He must have been all kinds of drunk last night to look this bad in the morning. “Go get cleaned up or something,” he tells her.

Bambi looks over her shoulder at him, then glares a dagger at me before standing and disappearing up the hall to the bathroom.

Brett stands, grabbing his warm-up pants from the floor and swaying dangerously as he tugs them on. “What are you doing here?”

I fight for control, cutting off the last of the giggles. “My Christmas gifts are here. If you’d have let me get my stuff last night, I wouldn’t have interrupted your orgy.”

He shoots me a bloodshot glare. “You left me blue. What did you expect me to do?”

“That.” I say, with a wave at the bed. “Exactly that.”

I step into the closet and grab my suitcase, tossing my clothes in. When I come out with my suitcase and bag of Christmas gifts, Brett is sitting on the bed with his head in his hand. I nudge his shoulder with the cologne box, and when he lifts his head, I hand it to him. “Merry Christmas.”

He stares up at me with bleary eyes. “You’re really doing this? Leaving?”

I look at him for a second and wonder why I ever thought what we had was working. “Yep. I’m really doing this.”

He lowers his head back into his hand as I tow my suitcase to the dresser and unload my drawers into it. I go to the bathroom, where Bambi’s still in the shower, and walk in without knocking. There’s a plastic Macy’s bag under the counter that I load all my bathroom stuff into. I sweep my makeup and hair products into the bag, but decide to leave my shampoo and conditioner, because there’s no way I’m going in the shower right now to get them. I snag my bathrobe off the hook next to Brett’s and grab every last towel, because they’re all mine. The shower turns off just as I click the door closed and head back to the bedroom.

I hand Jess the Macy’s bag and cram the towels and robe into my suitcase, then tip it up onto its wheels. “Can you handle this and that?” I ask her, motioning to the bag of gifts.

She reaches for the handle and sets the Macy’s bag on top of the suitcase, then grabs my gifts in her free hand. “Got it.”

We step into the hall, Alessandro following behind, and find Bambi standing there dripping, wrapped in Brett’s bathrobe and glaring a dagger at me. She scurries into the bedroom after we pass.

“You ready, mister furniture-moving expert?” I ask Alessandro when we hit the living room.

“I’m yours to command,” he says with a smile and a small bow.

“Come on.” I turn to Jess. “Can you go ahead of us and hold the door?”

She moves quickly toward the door, towing my suitcase behind her, and puts my stuff in the hall, then holds the door and stands back.

Alessandro and I each grab an end of the table. “On its side,” he says, and we tip it sideways. He starts backing toward the door. “I’ll go first.”

We manage to wrangle the table into the elevator, and when we get to the bottom, Jess holds the door open while Alessandro and I wrestle the table out.

“Watch the top end of the table,” Alessandro says as I move backward out the door.

“I’ve got—” But that’s as far as I get before a corner of the table catches on the top of the elevator door, causing me to lose my balance and my grip. I hear Jess gasp as I drop my end and I topple over backward onto my butt, which brings the top edge low enough to clear the door. The jerk of the table yanks it out of Alessandro’s grip and it starts to fall toward me where I sit on my ass, stunned. But then, with reflexes like a cat, he grabs for the table leg and stops it, mid-timber.

I look up at it, dangling over my head, and back at Alessandro as he strains to bring it back upright, and what I know for sure at that second is that Brett would have let that table flatten me if it were him in that elevator.

Jess grabs the other side of the table and helps Alessandro right it as I scramble to my feet.

“Thanks guys,” I tell them as we slide it the rest of the way out of the elevator. “This thing is so freaking heavy I’d have been roadkill.”

“Damn!” Jess says as the elevator doors close, and I realize all my stuff is still in there.

Alessandro’s hand darts out for the call button but it’s too late. The car is rising. It stops on the fourth floor and we wait for it to come back. And when the door opens, Bambi has my suitcase open and my clothes are strewn all over the elevator. She has my red lace thong looped over her index finger. “By the time I’m done with him, he’ll forget you ever existed,” she says, curling her lip in disgust as she flicks it at me. She struts past us toward the door.

“Good,” I say as she slips through.

Jess steps up next to me and grasps my hand as Bambi vanishes through the door. “Karma, Hilary. The universe is going to come back and bite that bitch in the butt.”

“I think maybe it already did.” I turn back to find the coffee table leaning against the wall and Alessandro inside the elevator, collecting my things and packing them carefully back into my suitcase. He picks up a black lace bra and hesitates for a second before tucking it in under a sweater and I feel myself blush, of all things. I don’t blush. Ever.

“I’ve got it,” I say, kneeling next to him and grabbing for the last few pairs of underwear I see, cramming them into the corner of the suitcase.

I toss a sweater on top as he scoops up the last towel and folds it in, then helps me zip it up.

“Thanks,” I tell him as I grab the handle and tow it out of the elevator.

“My pleasure.” He purrs the last word, and when I look at him, there’s an amused spark in his eye.

Jess grabs my bags of stuff and takes the suitcase handle from me. “Let’s get out of here. There’s a bad vibe in this building. It’s giving me the creeps.”

The subway scene is basically a repeat performance of the one that got the table to my apartment in the first place, except this time we have Jess to run interference. She shoves the crowd back from the door, making room for Alessandro and me to load the coffee table into the subway car. We finally make her apartment and wrestle the coffee table in, and my heart sinks when I see there’s already a glass coffee table in a delicate white frame.

Jess sees my frown and says, “Oh, no! It’s not what you think,” like she got caught cheating on me with another coffee table. “This is Lucinda’s. She’s taking it when she moves.”

My spirits lift a little. “So, you’re okay with my coffee table?”

“Definitely. I hate that thing,” she says with a scowl at the pretty glass table. “Where I grew up, a coffee table was where you put your feet, but Lucinda flips out when she catches me with my feet on hers.”

And that makes me think about furniture in general. I’m going to need at least a bed.

“Where would you like this in the meantime?” Alessandro says, and I realize I’ve left him standing there holding my coffee table.

Jess looks around. “Maybe we can lean it on that wall?” she says, pointing to the wall next to the couch.

Alessandro slides it across the floor to the corner and leans it, legs out, against the wall behind an armchair. “Are you going to be okay from here?”

That’s a really good question, but as I look around at the apartment, I realize the answer is yes. Maybe Jess is right. Maybe this was meant to be, because I feel a sudden wave of relief. I didn’t realize how tense living with Brett had become until now, when I don’t have to do it anymore. That frustrated, wrong feeling is totally gone. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“The children are doing a Christmas show at the youth center tonight. It’s open to the public if you ladies would like to come.”

Funnily, I sort of want to say yes, but . . . “I promised my sister we’d be there for dinner.” He nods and turns for the door, but then I remember I have his gift. “Wait!” I go to the bag and pull it out. It’s a little bit smashed and I almost change my mind. “Here,” I finally say, thrusting it at him. “Merry Christmas.”

He takes the wrapped tube from my hand and laughs at the cockroach bow, then squints a question at me.

“Just open it.”

He pulls off the cockroach and slides it in his pocket, then slowly slips off the wrapping paper . . . and smiles. “Salomé.”

I shrug. “I hope you like it.”

His smile widens and his eyes spark. “There’s something about a woman who has her shit together.”

I cringe a little, remembering that’s what I said about her at the museum.

His eyes lift from the rolled print to me. “She reminds me of you.”

I cringe deeper.

He backs toward the door. “Don’t forget. We have a date at the youth center tomorrow morning.”

I roll my eyes. “Ten. I’ll be there.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thanks for the help.”

“My pleasure,” he says with a smile that makes my cheeks warm again, then he disappears through the door.

“You’ve got it bad,” Jess says, and I realize I’m just standing here staring after him.

“What are you talking about?”

“You want him, Hilary. You’re blushing. I’ve never seen you blush before.”

I hate what I’m feeling is so obvious on my face. I’ve spent my entire life learning to hide my emotions. How does being around Alessandro turn me back to that girl so easily? Just one more reason I shouldn’t be around him. “I just hauled a five-thousand-pound table halfway across Manhattan, Jess.”

She shrugs and gives me a knowing smile.

“Which means I could use a shower before we go. Can I use yours?”

“It’s yours now,” she says with a goofy smile. Then she goes all Mississippi and jumps up and down, making me laugh. “This is going to be so awesome!”

JESS IS ON the floor with Henri, building one of his four new Lego sets, Jeff is bundled up with Max on the back deck looking through the telescope Mallory and he bought the boys, and Mallory and I are on the couch. I’ve filled her in on Brett’s and my breakup, and when she heard how Jess took me in off the street, she offered her leftovers to take home—Mallory’s seal of approval.

“So this guy . . . the one who helped you move . . . ?”

“What about him?” I ask, but I know where she’s going. Ever since I mentioned he was back and saw her reaction, I’ve avoided talking about him with her.

“Alessandro,” Jess says from the floor. “I think your sister’s crushing on him.”

Mallory’s eyes narrow as they find mine again, then she stands abruptly, grabbing my hand and pulling me up. “Excuse us for a minute, Jessica.”

She drags me up the hall to her bedroom and closes the door. “Please, Hilary, tell me this isn’t him,” she says under her breath.

“It’s him.”

“What the hell are you doing?” she asks through a tight jaw.

“He’s helping me, Mallory. He’s a friend. That’s all.” I feel myself cringe as I try to justify the unjustifiable. I know Mallory’s right. I’ve known from the beginning. It’s the reason I told him we can’t hang out. It’s too dangerous.

But I can’t stay away from him.

“Why is he back?” She drops onto the edge of her bed, wringing her hands. “Why did he come back after all this time?”

“His father died in the 9/11 attacks. I guess he just needed some closure.”

“That’s all he wants? Closure?”

“Nothing’s going to change, Mallory. I promise.”

She hangs her head. “I’ve worried about this for so long . . . what would happen if . . .” She trails off and blows out a breath, then looks back up at me. “You’re okay, though? He’s not—”

I shake my head. “His brother was the problem, and he’s gone . . . dead.”

“Oh.” She stands and straightens her skirt. “I still don’t like it, Hilary. I wish you wouldn’t see him.”

“It will be fine. I swear.” God, I hope I’m not lying. “He doesn’t know anything that happened after he left.”

She looks relieved. “Just be careful. Promise.”

“I promise.”