Shoving the ring into the box, I stand abruptly, not looking around as I grab my bag and shift out of my seat. Behind me, Philip murmurs something that has the silent, watching table laughing as I push through the doors to the hall, my heart thumping.
The sign for the bathroom points to my right.
The exit to my left.
This life is not mine.
It’s as if I’ve been asleep for years, and I’m just waking up. Taking off, I make for the exit, shoving past a surprised-looking security guard before the cold air hits me.
Looking around, I start walking. Then moving faster, until I’m almost running. I wouldn’t put it past Philip to come after me.
I wince, imagining his reaction when I don’t return to the table. I’m sure he’ll smooth my absence over. A sudden illness, perhaps, or a family emergency.
Anything but thetruth.
Briar
Afew streets away, it starts to sink in how cold I am. And how lost I am.
Damn it. I walk for a while before I admit defeat, digging around in my bag.
“Hey, warrior.” River picks up on the first ring, his voice teasing. “You okay?”
I bite down on my lip. “Um. Yes.”
I almost feel his attention sharpen. River is lazy humour and smouldering eyes, until something is wrong. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I’m lost.” I cringe as I admit it. “I was at the museum, and I started walking. And now I’m not sure how to get back.”
“Left or right from the museum?” There’s a metallic jangle. “Briar?”
“Right from inside. But I took a few turns.”
“Okay. Don’t panic. I want you to walk to the corner of the street you’re on and look at the name for me. What is it?”
“Lefferts Street?”
His stern demeanor doesn’t change. “I know where you are. Stand somewhere with good lighting. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Stay on the phone.”
He sounds so… stern. I bite down on my lip. “Sorry.”
“No apology needed. I’m coming to get you. What were you doing at the museum?”
My lips part, but nothing comes out for a moment. “I was at an event.”
I leave Philip out. In part because it sounds pathetic to admit that my father is trying to set me up in an arranged marriage at the age of twenty-six. But mainly because I don’t wantthatBriar’s life to bleed into this. Whatever it is that we have.
He whistles. “Sounds fancy. Does this mean I get to see you all dressed up.”
My smile grows. “Maybe. Did I interrupt you?”
“No. I’ve been working out, but I’d just finished.”
Oh.“Does that mean I get to see you without a shirt on?”
“Not in this weather.” There’s laughter in his voice. “I’m wearing twelve layers.”
There’s something so easy about talking to him. “I wouldn’t mind some of those layers.”
