“There are things happening.” He pauses, choosing his words carefully. “Things I can’t stop. It would be better if you weren’t here when they did.”
I search his face for some clue, but his expression is closed off, guarded in a way it wasn’t during the game.
“You’re acting as if you’re protecting me from something,” I say.
His eyes meet mine. “I am.”
The words hang in the air. I want to push, want to demand he explain what he means, but I know he’s already said more than he wanted.
“Thanks for being honest.”
“You’re welcome. Thank you for appreciating it.” He steps closer, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to hold his gaze. Close enough that I can smell the bourbon on his breath and the woodsmoke clinging to his shirt.
His hand comes up slowly, giving me time to pull away. His thumbtraces along my cheekbone, the same path it traveled last night on the balcony.
“You should go,” he says softly.
“I know.”
His thumb keeps moving down to the corner of my mouth. My lips part without my permission.
“Addison.” My name sounds like a warning.
“Louis.”
He leans closer. The space between us shrinks to inches. I can feel the heat radiating off his skin, and my eyes start to close.
His breath ghosts across my lips before he pulls back and steps away. And I realize, right now at this moment, I’m not playing offense against Louis. It’s the other way around.
“Five o’clock,” he says, like he didn’t almost kiss me again. “Don’t be late.”
I swallow hard. “I’mneverlate.”
“Perfect. Good night, Addison.”
“Good night, Louis. Stop trying to protect me. I’m a big girl. Got it?”
“As you fucking wish. But please don’t say I didn’t warn you. I want a rematch.”
“Great. I want one too.” I hold his gaze for a few beats longer, then slip into the hallway, pulling the door closed behind me.
The stone wall is cool against my back as I lean against it, pressing my hand to my chest. My heart is racing, and my lips are tingling even though he never touched me.
He’s protecting me from something. He wants me to leave, but the question is, why?
With all the red flags flying around, I should be running in the other direction.
I push off the wall and head toward my cottage, replaying everything. He said my name like it cost him something, as if he was trying to talk himself out of kissing me. It worked.
As I walk through the garden, the night air is cool on my skin. I look up at the stars scattered in darkness and take them in. I never see them sparkle in the city. One glitters across the sky, and I close my eyes to make a wish, hoping with my entire heart and soul that it comes true.
8
LOUIS
The conservatory is too bright.
I’ve been standing here for twenty minutes, adjusting the blinds, angling the slats to soften the afternoon light, then moving them again because nothing looks right. This room is all glass and greenery, full of tropical plants my mother collected on diplomatic trips. Leaves spill from terra-cotta pots, and the northern light fills the space with a diffused glow that photographers pay thousands to replicate.
