She knows I’ve figured it out.
“Wren it’s your turn!” She nearly shrieks over the table, probably hoping she can distract us. Can we even talk openly about this? Starling is still here. I take a long look at the drummer on our side of the table and the way he’s peeling into another beer, three other cans crushed on the table before him. Does Bran know?
Wren reaches for my hand under the table and gives it a squeeze; a promise that we’re not done with this but it's shelves until the game ends. “Sure.”
Willow’s long hair pools on the table as she leans forward, the lights from the candles dancing across her face, hitting her perfectly high cheekbones and making her olive skin glisten.
“I dare you to kiss someone you’ve already kissed before.” She sings, the tune coated in a taunting lust. She still wants Wren, even if he’s sat with his warm hand over mine.
Lily laughs and starts to pull a card from the pile, expecting him to obviously not kiss her. My breath catches as he places one long tattooed finger underneath my chin, moves my face to his and presses the softest kiss to my lips. It's gentle but filled with so much desire my knees turn to jelly. I see stars; galaxies of colour swirling, my body taking on every sensation humanlypossibly at once, as I kiss him back with just as much want. I only pull back to look into his deep green eyes the shade of a wild forest, and he looks at me like I’m the gravity keeping him grounded.
A glass smashing breaks the spell and I try to sit back, but Wren has his other hand firmly on the back of my neck, keeping me pressed into him. Willow stands and to my surprise so does Lily, the one to knock over the wine glass. I’ve never seen such hot rage take over her normally glowing features.
Cardinal mutters something under his breath and she practically growls, leading them both out of the room and making the glass doors rattle as they slam into the dining wall. The entire room falls quiet, but through it all Wren still gives me all his focus and admires my face like it’s his answer to life.
“Where the fuck is Jay?” Bran asks into the silent room, throwing down his fork with a sharp clang.
IT took a couple of tense minutes for quiet chatter to resume around the table, but the way Detective Starling sipped from his tumbler, watching each guest, irks me. Unable to wait any more, Mavis excuses herself to follow her friends and I decide to follow her out of the dining room.
“I'll be right back” I say, giving his hand with the moon tattoo a squeeze, no longer resisting the urge to lean down to brush my lips against his temple. It takes him back, but his astounded lips part into a panty melting grin.
Hunting her down is pretty easy because she didn't follow both her friends, but instead stands at the top of the stairs, in the corridors nook with the stained glass window, and a round table with a giant vase of lilies, which have now started to wilt. Their pollen scent wafts around us from the cracked window, but the entire hotel has a wet forest musk. I love the smell of rain in the countryside, especially when it’s heavy. The dark clouds send atwisting pattern of light spilling across the landing; the stained glass creates strains of different tones. In other circumstances it's the perfect ambiance for writing, but it's the last thing on my mind as I find Mavis deep in thought, hands curled around the railing. Her knuckles are taut, posture ridged and I don't think she heard me climbing the stairs until she whispers in a lost tone.
“You don't want this conversation, Robin. Go back downstairs.”
She doesn't look at me, and I inch closer, my heels sinking into the carpets. “I can't do that. I need you to tell me the truth before we find your secret. I think we both know what it'll be.”
She finally turns to face me, tears spilling over onto her pale cheeks. “It's going to kill Bran.”
“Why do it then?” I ask, because honestly I need some sort of insight into why someone would blow up their entire relationship. I wondered for months what possessed Corbin to do that to me, when it could have been so easy to let me go and have his fun without ripping my heart out.
She makes no attempt to wipe her tears rolling down her cheeks, onto her collarbone. “We’ve been together for so long, we’ve both just become different people.” She admits, voice raw. “We’re not the same teenagers that fell in love—I want different things. I wanted…”
“Corbin.” I finish for her, needing confirmation my hunch is right. She nods, grimacing and tearing into her bottom lip with her teeth. She turns briefly away from me, her full body silently wrenching.
“Yes,” She choked. “It started months ago. I didn’t know about Aya, not until I turned up this weekend and saw him with her. He fucking laughed at me when I asked him what the hell he was playing at.” She exhales shakily, my arms itching to comfort her despite everything. Has his death made me detached? All I feelis deep disappointment in someone I thought was my friend. “I wanted to break things off with Bran and tell Lily. He said we could tell her this weekend, but really I just think he used me for reasons I can’t figure out. Maybe to upset you.”
“Did he ever ask you any questions about me? About Lil or even Bran?” My voice is hoarse too—strained, as emotions threaten to crawl out of my throat.
Mavis pauses briefly, then dips her chin. “He did. He constantly wanted to know what Lily was doing, where she was, and really seemed to care who she was with. He'd ask me questions about your life. Recently he did ask about Bran, but I hated those conversations because he'd degrade me. I was going to end my relationship, but Corbin would tell me not to bother. It was confusing.”
I want to pry, dig into all the information she could have given him. How could she have kept this a secret for so long? “Were you seeing him when we were together?” My brain screams at me to end this and go downstairs, but I need to know.
“No! I would never do that, Robin. I know this is so fucked up, but I swear I wanted him to myself. I didn't want to be the other woman. It all just became so messy, and Bran was away, so I didn't need to rush...” She lets out a loud sob, pushing the side of her wrist against her mouth and turns away from me again. My palms find the wall and I use it to support my weight, willing myself to feel better. She's not another tally of who he cheated on me with, but this still stabs like she's twisting the knife for him. Wiping at my own eyes, I try to pick my battered heart off the floor and put it back into its bruised cage.
“Do you think he asked you things to write the secrets? I've been trying to figure out how he knew these details about us all, when he’s never met some of the guests.”
Silently she nods, and the way she shakes, knees visibly knocking together, I think she can’t take anymore. I give hera weak smile and swallow, turning on my heel to return downstairs.
“Robin, wait,” she begs. “I wasn't with him Friday night. I approached him in the hotel after the garden party started, but he ended things and told me to stay out of his life. I was so upset and mad.” The more her wet eyes blink, the more fear builds in them.
I’m scared to ask, but I have to. “Where were you then? I know you didn't stay in Will's room.”
“I was with Jay. It’s not what it sounds like. Rob, I’m—I thought I loved Corbin. I’m so sorry.” Fat tears rolling in steady streams.
“I fucking knew it.”
My head snaps back around to the stairs, below stands Bran with anguished eyes and tight fists by his side.
