Page 112 of Cruel Lies

The list goes on.

But mostly what I feel is relief. Because he told me the truth. He told me one true, ugly thing when he could have lied, and Iwould probably have believed the lie, because the easiest time to fall for falsehoods is when you badly want them to be true.

We stand there in the dust and the fake armor and the smell of hairspray, both of us quiet.

Then Ronan says, "You still have the napkin."

I blink. "What?"

"The cocktail napkin I gave you. From the bar." He looks at me. "Do you know where it is?"

I do know where it is. It's in the drawer in my nightstand. I'd almost forgotten about it.

"I told you the terms," he says. "You agreed to give me eight chances, and if the data ever showed you I was the same kind of man as Todd, you'd hand the napkin back and I'd disappear." He tips his chin toward the dark where the sweating man disappeared. "That's data. Some of the ugliest data you're ever going to get on me."

"You want me to give it back?"

"No," he says. "No, I don't want that. I want the opposite of that."

"Then why are you bringing it up?"

"Because it's yours." His jaw tightens. "The napkin is the one thing in this whole arrangement that's completely yours. I gave it to you on purpose. It's your out. And that won't change." He pauses. "Tonight, tomorrow, next year—hand it to me and I go. That's the deal."

I look at him as something strange occurs to me. "I think part of youdoeswant me to do that."

He shakes his head. "No." His voice goes rough and choked. "It would break something in me if you did. But you have the right to. That's all I want you to remember." He smiles and straightens up, and when he does, he looks like the Ronan I know again. "So. There it is. You saw what you saw. If it's too much, you know what to do. It's a two-cent napkin in a drawer at your house."

I think about it. I really do.

What I just saw is like seeing the shadows clustered at the mouth of the rabbit hole. I can tell, without really knowing, that it goes much, much deeper. He's not just a man with secrets; he's a man with a story I barely know the first word of.

And I let him into myhouse.With mychildren.He carried my daughter to bed, for God's sake.

But then again, so did Todd. I trusted him, and look what he did with that?

Ronan has never been anything but pure and kind. He's withheld things, but nothing that affected me or my little ones, and he's never, ever lied.

"I'm not giving you the napkin," I say.

"You should think about it," he warns. "You don't have to decide now."

"I don't need to think about it." I fold my arms. "I'm still scared of you. I want that on the record. That thing you did just now, I didn't like it."

"Good," he says. "You shouldn't."

"But you told me the truth when you could've lied. And that's worth more to me right now than you know." I let out a breath. "So the napkin stays in the drawer. For now."

"For now," he echoes.

"Don't make me regret it."

"I'll spend the rest of my life trying not to."

I don't know what to do with a sentence like that, so I don't do anything with it. I just turn toward the stairwell.

"Come on," I say. "The soprano's still dying up there. I paid attention to the whole first half. I want to see how it ends." I start walking, but when I sense he's not following, I turn back and grin. "You coming, or are you staying down here with the Vikings?"

He catches up in two strides and puts his hand at the small of my back, warm through the silk, guiding me up the concrete stairs and back toward the red carpet and the gold and the crystal.