“A few days ago. I’ve had a lot on my mind.”
Her expression shifts, warping from defensive to alert. “And I gave you more to deal with. That bloody blackmailer of mine. Are your parents all right?”
“They’re fine,” I say. “The criminals didn’t take anything. Just went through drawers. Tore my old bedroom to pieces.”
Emily crosses her arms, all that fire still crackling in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. You didn’t know.”
“River, don’t worry about me and my issues?—”
I stop her with a gesture. “That’s already taken care of. Your designs have been returned.”
“What? I haven’t heard— Of course I haven’t heard. I don’t have my phone or computer here. Bloody stupid rule, if you ask me.”
I sigh. “It’s a good rule. Rather, it would have been a good rule if this event had gone as planned. Instead it went off the rails the very first night.”
She’s quiet a moment, but I can see that she’s ready to explode.
Then, “Damn it, River. Why won’t you let me help? I wanted to help you desperately. Then you gave me some garbage about my being a mirror. That you wanted to be who you think I see when I look at you. Next thing I know, you take off and return a day later with Jake in tow.”
“I had to,” I say. “It was eating me alive.”
“And I was part of that?”
“Yes. You made me want to do the right thing.” I sigh. “But there was more to it. Walls are closing in, and I…”
“You what, River?”
“I don’t know.” I shake my head. “If you have any sense, you’ll run away from me screaming.”
She reaches forward tentatively and scrapes her fingers over my stubbled cheek. “Is that what you want?”
I cover her hand with my own. “Of course not.”
“You must not think much of me if you believe I’d run at the first sign of trouble.”
Lord.
She has no idea what she’s saying.
There’s trouble. Like the trouble she was in with her blackmailer. Like the financial trouble Seb and Jake grew up with. Like the many times Brett has been sued over his tech grants and patents.
That’s the kind of trouble she’s talking about.
It’s nothing.
She has no idea what I mean when I say trouble.
“I don’t think that of you,” I say. “I said you should run.”
“Fuck off, then.” She moves her hand and steps away from me.
And I can’t hold it in any longer.
“I love you,” I say, the words finally crashing out of me. “I should’ve said it when you did, and I didn’t. But I’m saying it now. And I’ll keep saying it until you believe me. Even if you hate me.”
Silence stretches.
