Shut up, Nightmare.
“It’s just,” Chelsea starts, “I don’t do well in strange rooms—hotels, sleepaway camp. You name it. I’m better when I know someone’s close by.”
I’ll stay close by.
Her gaze darts from the floor to meet mine. “Could you just tell me which room is yours so that I know where you are?”
I point across the hall to my door. “That’s mine.”
She nods. “Okay.”
But her shoulders are still tense, her eyes narrowed.
“Do you want me to keep the door open? That way you can talk to me if you want?”
“Yes,” she replies quickly. “I’ll do the same after I get ready for bed. Thank you.”
She opens her door, and my gaze tracks her slender neck, her soft hair. A lump rises in my throat. “Chelsea.”
She stops. Turns around, waiting for me to say something.
Tell her she’s pretty. Kiss her. It’s dark. It’s romantic. Kiss her cheek. Her mouth. Do something. Quit standing there like an idiot!
I slip my hands into my pockets. Damn, this is hard. “I just want to say, thank you.”
“For what?”
“For agreeing to marry me and for…”For promising to see the real me and not listen to all the lies.But I don’t say it. I don’t say any of it except, “For listening to me.”
She nods. “You’re welcome.”
Then she slips inside, leaving a vacuum that only she can fill. It’s like the sun’s been stolen by the moon, and there’s no happiness while it’s gone.
I step inside my own room, noting the vase of black and gold roses I keep on the windowsill. After I change, I open the door as promised and slip beneath the covers.
A few minutes later I hear the creak of Chelsea’s door opening and listen as her mattress sinks under her weight. “Eryx?”
“I’m here.”
“Thank you.”
“Of course. Do you like your room?”
There’s a smile in her voice when she says, “Yes, I do.”
“If there’s anything you want, all you have to do is ask.”
“Who should I ask?”
You, tell her you!
“Stave.”
You are such an idiot.
“Or me,” I quickly add. “You can ask me.”
“Thank you,” she replies. “That makes me feel better.”
