“I’m sorry I didn’t know.”
“Didn’t know what?” Here lies Lavender. Still playing pretend.
“That you had a really shitty boyfriend.” Her voice sounds so small. “That he hurt you.” She twists her head. “He did hurt you, didn’t he?”
“Yeah.” Just a breath.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” I whisper, taking her hand. I’d prefer to give comfort than have her smother me in the same.
“It’s not your fault either.”
But I think that’s entirely a matter of perspective.
“Lavender.”
“Mngh?”
“Lavender, sweetheart. Wake up.”
I open my eyes. Well, one of them. I appear to be lying face down on the bed, my face smooshed against the pillows, mouth open, and my lips stuck to the high thread count.
“Time is it?” I think I ask as I push up onto my palms, my knees, then flop backward to sit against the pillows.
“It’s a little after three.” Raif perches on the edge of the bed in jeans and a black fine-knit sweater.Weekend wear on a workday. For both of us.
“Urgh, I’ve been asleep for hours. Where’s Primrose?”
“On her way home with Luis. She said she’ll be back tomorrow and not to worry about the gallery.”
I nod, too tired to answer.Why am I so tired?
“It’s a trauma response.” Raif tenderly slides my hair from my face.
“I’m not traumatized,” I quickly say. Scoff, even, almost knocking his hand away.
“You were attacked.” His jaw tautens as though he’s biting back angry words. Yet all I can think is how his reaction contours his face.
Charlotte Tilbury contour wand, eat your heart out.
“No fair,” I say, reaching out to poke his cheek.
“No, it wasn’t fair. I’m having difficulty making out exactly what it was because it wasn’t just a visit from an old boyfriend, was it?”
“I don’t.” I stop. Take a breath. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“You were assaulted violently in your place of work. But you didn’t want to involve the police. Why is that?”
“I’m sure you didn’t want to involve them either,” I retort. “Not after you choked him and Luis kicked his head in.”
“That’s the least that piece of shit deserves. But I’m sure the police would’ve agreed we were restrained in our reactions. Tod, too.”
“What about Tod?”
“He was worried about you. He offered to make a statement to the police. Why didn’t you want to call them?”
I wiggle my bum backward, sitting straighter. “So it looks like we’re doing this,” I murmur.
