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“It’s not exactly the same. Dad wasn’t free to roam around as much as he wanted, but he didn’t have guards twenty-four seven. There weren’t death threats against the family back then. It was a different time. And I’m telling you so that you believe, whatever this conversation is about, it has literally nothing to do with the amount of money you have, have had, or will have. Please, please, please believe that.”
“But it has everything to do with how much you have.” She shrugs.
“Yes.”
“It’s not fair.”
“No, it’s not. And you know what else isn’t fair? How unhappy Mom is. After Dad died, she lost the joy of life. And I can’t, I cannot, will not, do that to the woman I love. Put her through what Mom went through, losing the love of her life when she was only forty.”
“Stop it. You’re not going to die at forty-two.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. That’s beside the point. But if you had to give up this life, these friends, your freedom, you’d be dead in a year. Maybe not in-the-ground dead, but soul dead.”
Virginia rests her head against my chest. I stroke her hair.
“I do love the dirt,” she says. “Being in the ground dead would be better than soul dead.” She looks up with a sad smile.
“I’d certainly prefer it,” I agree. “There’s something else I have to tell you.”
“Is it a good or bad something?”
“It’s not good.” A pain in my chest tells me how much of a lie that is. It’s fucking awful, but I’m not going to let on how bad, hopefully ever.
“Will you be able to sleep if you wait to tell me tomorrow? I’m so tired. And right now, I know that whatever you say is going to sound ten times worse than it probably is.” She presses her back closer to me. “I just want to be held right now and fall asleep in your arms. Can we do that?”
“Yeah,” I whisper. “We can do that.” I release the breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
“And, can you, maybe, try to stay awake until I’m asleep and make sure my subconscious mind doesn’t play dirty when I hit REM?”
I wrap my arm just a little tighter around her ribs. “Sleep knowing that I love you and that all I want in this whole fucking world is for you to be happy.”
Virginia’s chest heaves a few times before she relaxes and her breathing tells me she’s asleep.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
30. Virginia
A GILDED CAGE
When I wake, it’s still dark. I wiggle my shoulder and it’s free to move. Will has rolled away. My mind kicks into gear and I replay our conversation from hours ago. I imagine what he’s going to tell me next and where we can possibly go from here.
Georgia’s cautions about men like Will reverberate in my brain like a brood of cicadas, a background cacophony that is impossible to ignore, drowning out my own thoughts.
I need to move, to make noise, to distract myself. I slowly roll from bed, dress in yesterday’s clothes, and slide my feet across the floor toward the door so as not to press on a creaky floorboard. I need to ground before I try to figure out what to do. My plan is to go for a walk, get my heart rate up, and replace the noise in my brain with the thrum of my blood pumping.
I reach the living room and see a light on. Peeking around the corner, I spot one of the guards, the same guy who was with Will and me on our first walk in the park. I try to sneak by him, get my shoes and go outside. Despite using my stealthiest movements, the floor creaks right when I’m in view.
Bruce looks up from his phone.
“Ms. Beach, can I help you?”
He stands. My heart falls.
I point at the door and whisper, “Just going for a little walk.”
He nods and grabs his jacket from the back of a chair as he passes.
“I’m fine,” I say, holding up my hand. “I don’t need company.”
