I stagger into the bathroom. Several stalls line the walls, clearly designed for events like these, and I’m grateful for it as I slam the door closed behind me and sink to the floor, my hands gripping my hair.
My fault.
I don’t know how long I sit there for. But I can’t go back out there – not until I’m back in control, and at this moment I amnot.
I am unraveling.
Others come in and out. Someone knocks on the stall door once, but when I ignore them, they fuck off.
The main door to the bathroom squeaks as it opens. At the low murmur, I stiffen.
Stefano drops his hands from her face as I pull the door open. He glares at me. “Get out.”
He cares for her, too.
“Give me a minute,” I breathe. I don’t look away from her, from that vacant expression that petrifies me in a way I can’t voice. “Oneminute, Asante. Please.”
He glances between us. “What the hell is your game, Luc?”
“The same as yours.” I keep my voice low, my hands out as he stares at me. “Please. Whatever you want in exchange—,”
“A phone.” He says the words instantly. “Give me your phone.”
I slip my hand into my pocket, handing it to him and murmuring the code as he unlocks it with a nod of thanks.
He looks to her again. “One minute. I’ll stand at the door.”
All the while, Caterina stands between us.
As soon as the door closes, I move for her. My hands grip her cheeks, lifting her face to mine. So familiar, so beloved and so fuckingempty. “Caterina Corvo.Look at me.”
Her eyes skate over my face. “Not real—,”
“Real.” I snap the word. Grabbing her hand, I press it against my chest. “You hear that? This is yours, Cat. This is real.”
Her fingers curl into my shirt. And I inhale sharply as a tear slips from her eye, trails down her face. “It’s not.”
“It is.” I whisper it, over and over again. Pressing my lips to that tear, tasting it. Her forehead. Her cheek. “This is real, Cat. Come back to me.”
She’s crying in earnest now. I thought I had nothing left inside me to break, but the sight of her tears rips an anguished sound from my throat.
I wrap my arms around her, pull her into me, her cheek against my chest. “Listen to that. Come back, little crow. Ican’t—,”
My own voice breaks. “I can’tdothis if you stop fighting. You don’t get to stop. You don’t get togive upon us.”
She shudders against me, still crying. Still silent.
“I know your lines, remember? Iknowyour lines, Caterina Corvo.” I swallow. “And we’re not there, yet. So I need you to believe that this is real, even if everything else is fucked. This isreal.”
“You left.” The low whisper, low and raw and pained, undoes me.
I press my lips to her hair, my eyes closing in relief. “I’m keeping my promise, little crow. I haven’t brought her home yet, but I will. No matter what. That ismyline.”
I pull my head back, silently pleading as I look down at her.
“Real.”
She whispers it as if she hardly dares to believe it, and my throat bobs. “Real. But we don’t have much time.”
