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She knows his history; I told her about his last admission. I shake my head at her, and her horrified expression morphs into relief.
“I found him in bed with … with …” I can hardly drag the words out. “Someone else.”
Now her eyes reallydogo huge, and she presses a hand to her chest.
“What?” Her voice cracks like a starter pistol. “No way, Kate.”
I collapse onto the couch, pulling my knees up into my body, and she flops down next to me, hand on my arm.
“She was skinny, all this wild dark hair.” I make an arc over my head. Why am I telling her this?
“But he … I don’t understand. What happened?”
I try to recount my visit to his apartment, sitting back and taking deep gulping breaths. She’s quiet, eyes fixed on me, occasionally interjecting with exclamations of “No” and, eventually, “That fucker!”
“I can’t believe it.” She shakes her head and stares at the Turkish rug at our feet. Out of the window, the buildings loom up across the street. It is unreal. My eyes tighten, more tears spilling over, and I flap my hands, putting them down on my legs to try to calm myself. Then I’m up and pacing across to our small, open-plan kitchen.
“Goddammit, how could he do that?”
Acid bubbles in the back of my throat. “I’m going to be sick.” And I shoot into the bathroom, skidding on my knees in my haste to reach the toilet. Liss follows me in and sinks down, holding my hair back and stroking my back. It’s like some awful echo of Javier’s wedding. I turn my head, and she makes a face at me as sobs roll through my body and tears track down my cheeks.
“How could he do that? How could he sleep with someone else?” I choke out.
“I’m so sorry, Kate. I feel so useless. What can I do?”
Closing my eyes, I say, “You’re good, you’re here.”
“Alcohol? Distraction?”
I want to curl into a ball.
“Bed.” And pulling myself up from the cold tiled floor, I stagger down the hall into my bedroom and collapse onto the soft white duvet. Liss appears minutes later, a bucket in her hand, her face pursed in worry.
“I’ve got a lecture this morning, but I don’t like leaving you. I can—”
I shake my head at her.
“I’ll be fine. I’m exhausted and I worked all night. I’ll be better once I’ve slept.”
It’s a lie. I don’t think I’ll sleep at all.
20
Fabian
Aclatter in the kitchen wakes me, and I squint at the blue bedcovers, the dim light coming from around the door.Nadine. I roll onto my back and stare at the cracks in the plaster over my head, then the room lightens as the door swings open, and she appears with a cup of coffee in her hand as she wanders over to place it on my nightstand. A sigh bubbles up my throat from nowhere when I notice she’s wearing one of my T-shirts. She’s been here for two nights when I said one, and she needs to leave today. I’ll have a fight on my hands; she’s mean when she’s crossed.
She turns away, but not before her hungry gaze rakes over my body. I’m half-covered in sheets, but she’s well aware that I’m naked. Wincing, I try to pull a blanket farther over me. She’s in here, and I don’t know where she got my T-shirt from. This is all wrong.
“Oh, your cleaner came around, said she’d come back,” she calls at me over her shoulder as she heads out the bedroom door.
I frown and blink at the ceiling.What?What cleaner?
Before I can think better of it, I’m flinging the covers back and placing my feet on the floor, bending down to grab some clothes.
“The cleaner?” I call after her.
Her head pops back around the door, and I clutch at my jeans to cover myself, but her eyes travel all over what she can see.
