“Come in, Emma.”
I do, sitting when he gestures for me to do so. I’m wearing a long floral dress in baby blues, and I gather it around my knees, ducking so my hair hides my face. It seems like an eternity has passed since we last sat this close—since I was the center of Malcom’s undivided attention.
“I’ve been distant,” he says softly. Jen enters, moving quietly at the margins of the room, only making herself known to offer us each a finger of whiskey. Malcom takes his, but I wave mine away. “I’m sorry for that.”
I wait until Jen has left. “I understand. After what I said…”
He’s silent, and I can’t bring myself to relive the shame and dread of sharing my darkest confession with Malcom.
“I’ve been thinking,” he says softly. I look up, finding his face conflicted as he runs a hand roughly over his jaw. “About our arrangement.”
I straighten. The first feeling that hits me is shock. The second is shame.He doesn’t want me anymore.It should come as a relief, I know. I should be thrilled that he wants me gone. But instead I find myself effused with embarrassment and, worse, disappointment. Did I imagine the way he’s been looking at me? The two times we’ve slept together—did he only do it out of obligation?
Heat stings my cheeks. I should have known. He’s been avoiding me because he wants me gone. Because he ripped me from my life and doesn’t know how to be rid of me.
“Are you getting on here?” he asks, his voice surprisingly tender. I look up and find his bright eyes on me. It’s like surfacing from cold, numbing depths. “You seem free. Almost…happy.”
Happy.Am I happy? In spite of everything, I’ve come to enjoy my days here. The bright sun that fills the upper rooms, the garden and even Blicktenner. Reading, writing, exploring, gardening—I never imagined that being cut off from the world would be so liberating.
“I’ve adjusted,” I say gently, torn between admitting my contentment and the knowledge that I should try to convince him to let me go.But do I evenwantto be let go anymore?The question fills me with fear. “I’m OK, Malcom.”
He nods. “But you wish to go.”
“I…” I have to say that I do, don’t I? Any sane woman would. Yet…
A knock sounds at the door, severing any meaningful exchange Malcom and I might have had. Callie presents herself. “The guest has arrived, Mr. Walker.”
Malcom stands, dusting himself. I notice now that he’s dressed more carefully than usual. He wears a black sweater and slacks, hair combed into mussed dark curls. “Send her in.”
Her?Fear bites into me hard. I clutch my knees, knuckles going white. At once, all doubt leaches right out of me.I don’t want to go, I realize. I’m not ready.But Malcom is. Has someone come to take me away? To get rid of me? To kill me? Malcom said we could make this work, and there’s no way he knows I might, impossibly, improbably, be pregnant. But we haven’t spoken in days. Has he changed his mind? Realized that some faint duty or affection for me isn’t enough to keep me around?
I close my eyes.Is this all that I am to you?
“Jesus Christ.” Her voice, barely a whisper, jerks me back to reality. Lilly rushes past Malcom, not even sparing him the slightest of looks. And then her arms are around me.
“Lilly,” I gasp, tears filling my eyes. I stand, clutching her to me, inhaling her familiar scent, grounded by the safety her arms. “Oh, my God. Is it really you?”
She draws back, holding me at arm’s length, examining every inch of me. “Are you OK? Oh, my God. I wanted to look for you. I reported you missing, over and over, but—your house, I think…someone staged it, Emma. Everyone is convinced you ran away, that Trevor was too much and you couldn’t handle the shame. But I knew you would never leave your students like that. Iknewsomething horrible had happened.” Tears slide down her cheeks, and she brushes the hair from my eyes, taking me in. “I’ll get you out of this, Emma.”
Malcom clears his throat, and she turns on him, expression black as a storm.
“You fucking prick,” she spits. “If you hurt her, if you so much asthinkof hurting her, I swear to God, I’ll fucking kill you.”
“Lilly,” I say, squeezing her hand. “It’s…it’s OK.”
“Ms. Claire,” Malcom says, his voice suddenly hard and brusque. “You’re aware of yours and Emma’s circumstances. I’ve allowed you here as a courtesy, and nothing more. If you violate any of the stipulations you agreed to, you and Emma will both pay the price.”
“Fuck you,” Lilly bites out. “Don’t threaten me.”
Malcom’s face is cold and vacant as stone. “Ms. Claire.”
She looks away bitterly, utterly disempowered. “Yeah,” she finally mutters, her hand still locked tight around mine. “I know what I agreed to. No word of any of this.”
Malcom nods, meeting my eyes briefly before turning and leaving us alone. He closes the door behind him, but there’s no sound of the lock turning. It’s only for privacy.
Lilly whirls on me, her face blazing with urgency. “OK. Tell me the plan. I’ll do whatever you need. How are we getting out of this?”
“We? You mean, he won’t let you go?”
