She pauses. Turns. Studies me like she’s weighing something.
“I’ll consider accepting,” she says.
Then she walks out.
Chapter thirty-two
Remy
I freeze.
What did I do?
I saw the hurt before her mask slid back into place. Sudden. Sharp. Real.
We wounded her. Again.
I glance at Meg. She’s staring daggers at both of us.
“How do I fix this?” The question comes out raw.
She studies me, measuring. Finally, she nods once.
“I’ll talk to her,” she says. “Not because you’re my boss. Because this is the first time she’s been willing to step back into the world.”
Shame hits hard. My head drops.
Erik moves toward the door. I catch his arm.
“We need to give them space.”
He turns to me, eyes wild. I’ve only seen that look when I pull him out of the music.
Chapter thirty-three
Christianna
Meg watches me as I get dressed. She waits, like she knows better than to rush this.
My body feels heavy, uncooperative. I want to crawl back into bed and disappear, but the proximity presses in on me.
Meg reaches for her bag. No discussion. She understands.
We walk until the hotel is behind us. Then farther. Distance matters. Space matters. Only when the city noise swallows the quiet do I feel my shoulders ease.
Café Fleur de Lis is busy with morning life. Clinking cups. Scraping chairs. People focused on themselves. Anonymous. Safe.
I sit and fold my napkin between my fingers while Meg orders for us. Something to share. Coffee.
I don’t notice her saying my name until the third time.
“Christianna.”
I look up.
That feeling is back. Exposure. The ache of being seen when I am still raw.
I hate it.
