We're all one movement away from blood.
One breath away from ending this.
The silence stretches. Tight. Fragile. Like glass about to shatter.
Then I hear it.
A small gasp. Feminine. Shocked. Out of place.
My head snaps toward the sound.
A woman stands at the entrance to the living room.
Blonde hair falls over her shoulders in soft waves. Blue eyes wide with surprise. Soft curves. Angel face. The kind that makes men stupid. Makes them forget where they are and what they're doing.
And in her hands, a bottle of Macallan Sherry Oak 25.
My favorite whiskey.
But that's not what stops me cold.
It's Luan.
His head is moving. Left to right. Searching. Like he heard the sound but doesn't know where it came from. Like he's trying to locate her in the room.
He can't see her.
4
LILY
"...Happiness hit her like a bullet in the back…"
Florence and the Machine fills my ears, bright and soaring, while I stand frozen in a doorway staring at three men who look just as shocked to see me as I am to see them.
The music wraps around me like insulation. Like safety. Like the world can't touch me as long as the sound keeps playing. It's been my soundtrack all day. Through the grocery store shift that started at seven this morning. Through the bus rides across town for the concierge service.
But now the optimism in the lyrics feels wrong. Misplaced. Florence doesn't know what room I just walked into.
This morning, I was packing my backpack for the day. Double-checking that I had everything. Headphones. Wallet. Keys.Protein bar because I wouldn't have time for lunch. That's when I saw it.
The bottle.
Macallan Sherry Oak 25. Tucked in the side pocket where I'd stashed it two days ago for safekeeping.
My stomach dropped so fast I thought I might be sick.
I was supposed to leave it at the last apartment. I forgot it.
The bottle is obscenely expensive. And if the client thought I stole it, if they reported it, I'd be fired. No explanation. No second chance. Just gone.
I can't be fired.
Not now. Not when I'm weeks away from handing over the keys to the only home I've ever known. Not when I still haven't figured out where I'm going to live or how I'm going to afford it. Not when my savings account is so close to empty that one unexpected expense could wipe me out completely.
I called my boss. Tried to sound calm. Professional. Like I wasn't thirty seconds away from a full panic attack.
She told me to breathe. That it was fine. The clients weren't arriving until tomorrow afternoon. Just drop the bottle off tonight. Problem solved.
