“Your cousins have laid low. The usual letters, emails. Everything’s set for the visit to Dublin.”
She nods and murmurs, clearly tired.
“What time is it?”
“One in the morning.” She snuggles closer.
“Why don’t you get in bed properly?”
“Hmmmm.”
I sit up, now totally awake and I know that unless she takes off whatever she’s worn to travel home in and gets under the covers, she’ll wake up freezing and grumpy in an hour’s time.
It’s now that I realise I understand what it’s like to live with someone. To know them as more than just a warm body.
“Blair, get undressed.”
There’s a murmur and moan. I ignore both and push my covers back, shivering at the first licks of cold air.
She’s wearing suit pants and a jacket, neither of which are going to be easy to pull off her, but I try anyway and begrudgingly she moves, pulling away buttons and pushing off her blouse.
“How was Isaac?” Her voice is sleepy.
“Good. He’s back tomorrow with Goldsmith.” I don’t know if to tell her what I know about Isaac and Goldsmith; it isn’t mine to tell.
“Good. It’ll be good to see him. Good for us both to see him.” The hitch in her voice tells me she’s still unsure.
“I showed him the ballroom.”
“And you found my great-grandmother’s liquor cabinet.” She tucks herself up in my bed, her limbs tangling with mine.
“I’m sorry.”
“What for?”
“Being with someone else.”
She presses her lips against my chest. “I know. I know you’re sorry and I don’t know if I want you to be or not. I’ve kissed him too.”
“It was more than a kiss, Blair.”
“I know. But is it any different?”
“He’s William’s half-brother.” The truth comes out before I have time to store it away.
“I figured.”
“When?”
“I don’t know. The whole dynamic between then is off.” Her voice becomes sleep-filled again. “Lennox mentioned something before he died too. I remembered it when I was in Paris and you told me what had happened.”
“What did he say?”
“There was only one person he needed to win over more than Goldsmith and it was his brother. I had no idea he meant Isaac until - I don’t know. They both move their left hand more when they’re talking.” Her words peter out and her eyes close, with her head on my chest.
I don’t respond. My hands lie on her back, feeling her skin and her warmth next to mine, her blonde hair wild across both of us. And I lie awake. This, her coming home to me, sleeping in the same bed, can’t be sustained because at some point, something’s going to explode.
* * *
