My gaze drifts across the room, pulled like a tide. Annie is back with the group, curled against Kenna, her champagne glass cradled loosely between her fingers.
Her eyes lift, landing on me.
The smile she was barely wearing fades. Her gaze flicks to Jaclyn. Then darts back to me.
Sadness, sharp and devastating, flashes across her face before she tucks it away, turning to Kenna.
I swallow hard, my throat raw.
The part of me that’s still good wants to go to her. Wants to rip the floor out from under my own goddamn feet just to get to her.
But another part—the one tightening my fists and drowning me in booze—wonders if she even wants me to.
Jaclyn doesn’t miss the exchange. She tips her head, eyes glinting with quiet understanding. “Trouble in paradise?”
I down another sip and roll my shoulder.
I don’t answer.
Because it’s not paradise.
It’s purgatory.
And I’m not sure how long I can stand in it without shattering into something ugly.
Jaclyn leans in, voice low and easy. “Hey, if you’re taken, I get it. I won’t go there. But if you’re not…”
I turn my head toward her. The glass sweats in my hand.
She smiles, slow and inviting, her brown eyes twinkling with implication. “I’m here for two more nights. No strings. Just fun.”
Chapter 42Annalise
I can’t sleep.
That’s not a revelation, but it’s more than insomnia, more than adrenaline.
My stomach swirls with anxiety, viscous and toxic.
One moment Chase was at the bar, talking to a blond. When I looked back up, he was gone.
They both were.
He wouldn’t do that.
He said he’d wait.
And I was ready. Even during the show tonight, it’s all I could think about.
Him.
Finally giving in to this draw, this need. But something about him has been off. His walls are sky-high, his demeanor borderline angry. Surely he could tell I was interested by the way I dragged him out to dance, writhed against him, all tangled limbs and needy breaths.
But he pulled away. Closed himself off from me.
Then he started talking to another woman as I watched from afar, my heart caving in.
I kick off the covers with a growl of frustration. My throat is thick and tight, my pulse pounding with dark tension. Chest heaving, I glance at the nightstand beside me. The cup of half-eaten cherries glows beneath the wall lamp. Beside it, his room key.
