Me: He’s manipulating you.
Hannah: I know.
Hannah: I couldn’t find that picture of you again. Sorry.
I frown. I’d forgotten about the picture.
Me: Nothing to apologize for.
Hannah: Maybe when you get back you can teach me some of your secret ninja stuff, so I don’t have to worry about my ex anymore either.
I stare at the smiley face emoji she included at the end. I know she doesn’t mean anything by it, but it makes me uncomfortable that she thinks I have the answer to dealing with abusive assholes. I’m going to let her down. Because I wasn’t the one who had solved my problem.
Tuning out Keke rhapsodizing about her favorite green juice, I search for a picture of our event in New York. I come across several of Keke, at least one that has my arm in it, but none of Liev.
Where could Hannah have seen it?
I sigh.
What were you going to do? Moon over his picture because you’re too chicken to talk to him about what happened?
The only breaks come between journalists, as they shuffle in and out with cameras and ring lights and false enthusiasm. Because I have to accompany Keke to the public restroom in the lobby, there’s never a moment to speak to Liev. I’m grateful.
Each time I pass him, he tries to catch my eye, but Keke is an excellent buffer. I’m still not sure how I’ll handle it if things are… different between us now. If he’s decided he wants to stop.
I know he’s going to make me talk about it.
Who would’ve thought gangsters are so into healthy communication?
Standing like wallpaper all day gives my thoughts plenty of time to drift toward what I’d hoped somethingmorewith Liev might have looked like. With every hour that passes, sadness tightens around my ribs in a slow relentless squeeze.
By the time we’re back in Keke’s room—so she can film her sponsor shots with, in her words, the golden hour light—I’m done. Mentally and emotionally wrung out.
Marco holds the phone videoing, while Keke poses with different products, delivering short, sugary blurbs about why each one is something she absolutely cannot live without. I hover near the door, watching the clock.
“If you don’t need us for this, we’ll head back to our room,” I say sweetly. “I’d hate for us to make a noise in the background and ruin one of your videos.”
Keke gives me a sly smile.
I think about how I heard Liev return this morning. Had she heard us last night? Kissing? Talking?
Fear clenches hard in my gut.
“Yes, you should go.” She points at Liev. “But he stays.” Before either of us can object, she flicks her hand toward Marco. “He’s here to chaperone.”
Liev looks at me.
I search for a legitimate reason to say no—and come up empty. She’s the client.
I turn to the door.
“Oh,” Keke adds. “Don’t forget, we’re going out to dinner tonight. Wear something a little less… that.” She wrinkles her nose and gestures vaguely at my slacks and top.
I give her a tight smile and keep my mouth shut as I leave, the door clicking softly behind me.
I slip my earbuds in and try one of the relaxation meditations Dr. Swan suggested.
It’s not working.
