Looking around the room, I found no more logs to burn. In the hallway, Colette stood in the darkness, the same light from outside illuminating her figure. Her arms were crossed; she seemed to be waiting.
She said something in French. After some time had gone by, she said, “You do not understand any French, no?”
“No.”
“Un trou du cul. That is what she called you. Before, during your heated moment, no? The meaning of this word is asshole.”
“Wrong term, right sentiment.” I shrugged.
“That may be true,” she said, “but I know the men who send you roses just so they can watch their thorns make you bleed. You do not send her roses for this reason.”
“Nemours.”
“Nemours. Pff! He has incredible pull. She is truly aÉtoilenow, at his command. He has named her.” She tapped her mole, considering. “We had never heard her laugh, before you. We feel sorry for her a lot, you know. She seems so lonely. But there is passion there, fueling this pain of hers. She burns for you. I felt it in Sous Rosa, but I did not know why.Click.” She made the noise with her mouth. “It all makes sense to me now.”
I was about to ask her about the firewood when she cleared her throat, uncrossing her arms, and said, “She has been here before.”
“How many times.”
She tilted her head, studying me. “You do not ask questions. You demand. You take.”
I said nothing.
She held one finger up. “Just the once. She did not need to be carried home.” She waved her hand around, stirring up the air. “La fee vertedoes something to her—it makes her, uh, come alive outside of herself. The drink will heighten her orgasm. Do not waste a moment; after some time, the green fairy irritates her.IfScarlett refuses, my door is always open.” She winked, turning toward her room.
Searching the apartment, I found the firewood in the dining room.
She doesn’t need absinthe to come outside of herself. All she needs is me.
* * *
Pride comes before the fall.
Pride comes before the fall.Pride comes before the fall. Pride comes before the fall.
I sat opposite Scarlett, on the edge of the mattress, eyes intent on the streaks of amber and crimson singeing the walls of the fireplace black. A war had begun to rage inside of me, between all that I knew to be true and all that I felt to be true—jealousy and pride were on the same side of the battlefield, while common sense and the beast stood opposite.
I had my pride, and I’d be damned if I allowed her to make a fool of me. I was no Mick. I refused to be. Contrary to him, I wasn’t the type of man wired to share. Scarlett was the half to my whole, and there was no room for anyone else—for her, or for me.
Tell her that.
On the other hand, I had hurt her, wounded her beyond what I thought possible. And though signs in the room pointed to someone else, something else told me that the evidence was wrong.
Hear her out.
Talking got us nowhere.
She’s terrified of the truth, of what it will do to her. I’m terrified of what her truth might do to me.
“Brando?”
He kissed me, she had blurted.
Yeah, well, she kissed you, I reminded myself.
Bending over my legs, I wiped a hand over my face, smoothing my eyebrows all the way to temples.
“I deserve that,” she said, her voice a whisper. “Your silence. Perhaps it’s for the best. I can talk. Say all of the things I’ve been too afraid to say.”
