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“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, holding the cot for balance as I rise. I try to make out the room, but the sun is low and shapes are fuzzy. “I’m so sorry, but… I need to use the restroom.”
“Here.” Nesbit steps forward and takes the cup and saucer. I hear her set it to the side before she grasps my arm. She’s not gentle in the least, but she guides me to the door leading to the small room.
The light clicks on, and she walks me to the toilet, placing my hand on the roll of paper before she returns to the door.
“I’m standing outside if you need anything,” she says.
I can’t speak. I only nod and slowly remove my panties before reaching out to sit. My insides are raw. I can’t take any more of her questions. She doesn’t understand—this was never about her. None of this has ever been about her. It’s always been about protecting Cam, paying for my debts, trying to get free of my bad choices.
Tears are in my eyes as I reach for the paper. I never thought of her. She’s right. It was easier to trade her anonymous life for mine. Looking at it now, I realize it wasn’t a fair trade. Our lives aren’t equal. She’s more generous than I am.
My clothes are back in place and I feel for the little lever to flush. Fingertips on the wall, I go to the sink and wash. No clicks. I don’t care to see this place. I’m broken and tired and utterly worthless. I’ve lost Logan…
The door opens, and Nesbit speaks to me. “Do you need help?”
People always think the blind are helpless. “No.”
I make my way slowly to where she stands and stop. I don’t know if I can pass her. She takes it as a signal to help me and grasps my forearm again, leading me to the cot. I’m too tired to fight her.
Nesbit positions me in front of the cot, and I slowly take a seat. I sit on my bed and look at the floor. A clink of dishes and what sounds like metal hitting porcelain fills the air. Nesbit is preparing a plate. I should tell her I can’t eat. My stomach is too tight, and I feel sick.
The queen is still in the room, but she doesn’t say a word. I have to guess she’s watching all of this. I’m bracing for the continuation of her wrath. She has every right to say these things to me. I don’t know her, and I was ready to deliver her to the worst human alive.
“Have to eat something.” The older woman takes my wrist and turns my palm up then puts a plate in my hand.
I release a breath and try not to cry. Jesus, the worst thing I can do right now as cry like I have the right to self-pity.
More time passes. I’m uncomfortable and miserable and this plate is in my hand. I don’t know what to do.
“You’re blind,” the queen finally speaks. She’s still angry, but her tone is different. The sharp edge is gone.
I move my eyes in the direction of her mouth. I can just make out she has dark hair. “Legally blind,” I clarify.
“What does that mean?” she says.
I strain my eyes around the room. The sun has risen higher and more light filters in through the windows. I don’t see another shape, which leads me to believe Nesbit has left the room.
“The woman is gone. It’s only you and me.”
“Nesbit,” the queen says. “She’s the housekeeper here at Occitan.”
“You’re standing near the door,” I say, trying to make out more. “You have dark hair.”
The sound of footfalls brings her closer to where I’m sitting. “So you can see me?”
“It’s like a thick fog all around,” I explain, thinking of the last time I said this, sitting in the bed with Logan. His warm hands on my waist, our bodies humming and satisfied from making love. Blinking fast, I won’t allow tears.
“How long have you been like this?” she asks.
“It’s been growing for a long time, but I didn’t know it. It suddenly grew much worse and quickly deteriorated over the last five years.”
“So you used to see?”
I nod and look down. “Yes, your majesty.”
She’s quiet again, observing. I hear a car outside and wonder if it might be Logan.
“Is that how he got you? Did he somehow use this to make you help him?” Her voice is challenging. She needs to understand, but I don’t know how she ever could. How could a lady understand the cruel twists of fate that would lead one to choose a life of crime?
