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Who said I could smile? Who said I could laugh? Who said I could feel happiness?
Not Lila.
I climb the steps to the main suite, trying not to notice the art we chose together, the painting Lila found in an antique shop that we didn’t realize was abominably heavy until we had to carry it almost a mile back down the promenade to our car.
I thought I’d never redecorate. Now everywhere I look, I’m racked with shame.
I shower quickly because I’m fucking exhausted. I’ve been awake nearly twenty-four hours, and the night shift wasn’t nearly as dead as I’d hoped.
When I wipe the fog from the bathroom mirror, Lila stands behind me, gazing at me reproachfully with those huge, dark eyes.
You promised. You swore.
“I haven’t broken my promise.”
Liar. LIAR!
The mirror shatters.
I whip around.
There’s no one behind me.
Blood drips down on the tiles. I lift my hand, gazing at my own split knuckles. I punched the mirror without realizing.
Liar…
The guilt is like sickness, like food poisoning. I wish I could vomit it out.
I lie down in my bed, trying to push her from my head. The sound of her voice…the first time we kissed…
After a moment, I feel something like cold hands on my bare chest…
Then frozen lips against my ear…
I close my eyes and give in.
* * *
21
REMI
The next week, Dane texts to cancel my fence-fixing appointment. I don’t want to take it personally, but it’s hard not to when he doesn’t set a different time for me to swing around. The cancellation feels linked to what we did on the beach, and I spend the whole week worrying if I fucked up somehow, pent up and irritable because my vibrator is a lot less satisfying compared to his mouth.
Emma visits three times in the same period, to admire my progress on the house and drop off fresh muffins. The first time they’re raspberry crumble, but after Jude says something snarky about Emma’s coat, the next two batches are blueberry.
“Why does she keep coming around?” Jude complains. “It’s bad enough the other one is always here.”
“The other one almost has our lights running,” I remind him. “And shouldn’t you be glad I finally have a friend? Weren’t you nagging me about that just the other day?”
“I regret it.” Jude scowls. “She’s slowing you down, yakking at you while you’re trying to work.”
“That’s not even true! She helped me paint the whole ballroom.”
I give Jude a pointed look because he hasn’t even finished with the workshop yet.
Jude is impervious to looks, and to most of the words that come out of my mouth as well.
