“What are you doing?” Lara asks.
“I’m going to go to the cod place.”
“Uh, no, you’re not,” Lara says.
Turning toward her, I say, “Lara, I need to speak to Keller. I need to stop him before he does something stupid. I don’t want him getting in a fight or... I don’t know... I just need to get to him.”
“That’s a terrible idea, and I truly care about you, Lilly, but I refuse to take you there.”
“Then I’ll go myself.”
“You won’t,” Lara says, standing as well. “Not only do you not belong in a place like the Crowned Cod, but it’ll ruin your welcoming tomorrow, which has been thoughtfully planned to make the best impression. If you show up at a pub the night before, rumors will spread, and it won’t be a good look. So many people are counting on tomorrow, so don’t ruin it out of a gut reaction.”
I hate that she’s right. My head is nodding, knowing precisely what she’s talking about, but my heart is bleeding, the need to stop Keller, to speak with him, driving me to do stupid things like step out into the capital in a pair of pajamas, looking for a man. Out of all the training I’ve been through, I know that gut reactions are not permitted. I need to be thoughtful about what I do and what I say.
Sad and worried, I climb back on the bed and pull my legs in again. “I hate this,” I say. “I texted him, I called him, left him voicemails begging him to come back to me, and he’s not listening. I just assumed that it could help if I saw him in person.”
“There’s no use now. In his head, he needs to fix this.”
“So, what am I supposed to do? Just wait?” I ask.
“Yes, wait and hope he doesn’t get into trouble.”
* * *
KELLER
Silence has been echoingin my ears since I sat down in this dark abyss of a room. Not even a distant cough or laugh, just complete and total silence, which has caused me to live in my thoughts.
My insecurities are roaring to life.
My need to distance myself leaving me feeling cold.
And that text message, burning a hole in my pocket, as I fucking wait.
And wait.
And wait.
Until it’s four in the morning and I hear the distant sound of feet clomping down the hallway. A familiar gait that I’ve come to know well. The slightest of limps from when he was training to become a guard and was cracked in the knee by an oncoming car. He rolled over the windshield and landed on his feet, but the damage was done.
And now, as I hear that limp come closer and closer, I dig my fingers into the arms of the chair I’m sitting in, trying to steady my breathing and my temper.
Lara was right, I couldn’t go to the pub, not with the risk of all eyes on us. So, instead, I went to his room, where I’ve been waiting ever since. And this is where I’ve been, in this chair, fucking waiting.
The doorknob jingles, and then the door pushes open. Brimar flicks on the overhead light, and when he looks up to find me in the middle of his room, staring at him, he startles backward into the wall.
“Jesus Christ,” he says as I stand and slam the door shut behind him. He pinches his brow and asks, “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Why do you think I’m here?” I ask, gauging how drunk he is. From the clarity in his eyes and the steadiness in his legs, I’m going to say not drunk at all. But there’s a lipstick stain on his neck and a noteworthy perfume that’s unfamiliar swirling around him.
Outrage and anger take over as I press my hand to his chest and back him up against the wall. “Are you fucking cheating on Lara?”
His eyes lift as he stares directly at me. “Is that why you’re here?” he asks.
“You know why I’m fucking here, but answer the question.”
“Yes,” he says. “For months now.”
