Warren fixed her with one of his smoldering Hollywood looks. “I have coffee in my room, if you’d like to come up,” he said. Was it her imagination, or was there the gentlest pressure from his hand in the small of her back?
She smiled and turned to face him. “I don’t think so. You said yourself; this can’t go anywhere. If I were to come up now, it would only complicate things.”
Warren nodded and said, “It was worth a try.” He took her hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Fredricka.” And looking rather sheepish—he’d clearly expected her to be accompanying him to his room—he added, “Can I call you a cab?”
She smiled. “No, thank you. I’ll make my own way back.” She went to pull her hand away from his, but he tightened his grip.
“It’s Ryan, isn’t it?” he said. He was still holding her gaze but his smile had lost its toothpaste sparkle, and somethingabout the change in his emotional temperature caused warning zaps of alarm to ricochet inside her chest.
“Does it matter? We both agreed that it couldn’t work between us. You said it before I did.” She was trying to match his outward calm, but her voice sounded shriller than she would have liked. He still had her hand. The discomforting energy rolling off him was one she recognized. Her skin didn’t fit right over her bones, nothing about the situation tallied, she felt uneasy and out of place.
Warren’s smile remained, but all trace of humor had vanished from it.
She wished she hadn’t eaten so much; her stomach began to churn. His continuing silence compelled her to fill it. “Nothing’s happened,” she said, realizing that she’d instantly made herself sound guilty. “But I think it maybe could.” Why was she still talking? “And it wouldn’t have felt right to let things go any further with us. B-but I never lied to you.” She couldn’t think straight. A buzzing had started up in her ears.
He nodded and dropped her hand. Then he barked out a laugh and looked up at the sky. “I thought as much.”
His voice was calm, but a familiar panic began to rise up through her body, and she grasped for anything she could say to defuse the situation.
She swallowed. “You called it off, Warren. Ryan has no bearing on anything.”
He continued his silence, staring at something just above her head. She was starting to feel dizzy; a band was tightening around her chest.
“Please, Warren, I’d like us to part as friends.”
Warren was shaking his head slowly, the universal sign of disappointment. “Sure. Whatever. You’re right. Forget it, I was being oversensitive. Jesus, look at the state of you, you’re freaking out!”
Her heart pounded; she couldn’t make it slow down.
“Come on now”—his voice was smooth and placating—“I don’t want us to part on bad terms. We’ve had a nice time, let’s not spoil it. I’m sorry if I made you feel bad. I’m sorry. You’re sorry. It’s forgotten. Yeah?” He used his index finger beneath her chin to gently tilt her face up to his.
Fred used every ounce of her strength to force her face into a bright smile and make herself say, “Of course!”
Warren bent to kiss her cheek, and she just kept on smiling.
“Good,” he said, and then he let out a wistful sigh. “If only our timing was better. I could’ve fallen hard for you, Fredricka Hallow-Hart.” He kissed her other cheek. “Bye.”
“Bye,” she parroted.
He turned and walked into the pub, without a backward glance, and she tried to convince her knees that they wanted to hold her up. When the door swished shut behind him, she forced herself to move.
“Freddie?” someone called over from one of the benches. “Are you all right, love?”
Fred waved stiffly to them, her rictus smile still in place, and then she turned and ran.
20
It was cold and shewas gulping in air but at the same time she was somehow not getting any relief, as though her lungs were refusing to take in oxygen. She was half running, half falling along the street, her eyes clouded with tears that cooled the instant they tipped over into salty tracks that stung her cheeks. Tourists eyed her warily and kept out of her path. Somewhere in her mind it occurred to her that they probably thought she was drunk or high. Her mind had made no conscious decision about where she was going, her body simply took her there, and soon she collapsed against the old barn door behind Frost Hardware, banging her fist on the wood like she was going to punch right through it.
Benj opened the door, and she practically fell into his arms.
“Whoa! Hey, Fred, it’s okay, I’ve got you, are you hurt? Ry!” he shouted. “Ryan, get over here!”
Fred tried to speak but her breath wouldn’t come. Hervision swam, her chest felt like it was going to crack open, and her heart was a pickaxe smashing its way out of her rib cage. Ryan’s outline came into view, and she held an arm out to him, her hand grasping for him. Even through her haze, she could see the concern etched across his face.
“What the fuck?” Ryan took her hand, and she launched herself at him, still gasping, one arm gripping tightly around his neck as though she might fall off the world if she didn’t cling on. “It’s okay, you’re okay, I’ve got you. Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, pulling herself back and staring frantically into his eyes in the hope that he could read hers.
