My throat closed.
She wiped under one eye with her thumb, annoyed at the tear more than anything. “I’m not perfect, Jace. I like attention. I like nice things. I’ve built a career around being seen. But I have been here.”
“I know,” I said again, uselessly.
“Do you?”
I looked at her. Really looked, which I had been avoiding because if I saw her clearly, then I had to see what I was doing.
“I’ll go to Aspen,” I said.
Her mouth twisted. “Don’t do me favors.”
“It’s not a favor.”
“You just agreed like I asked you to schedule a dental cleaning.”
“I’m trying to say yes.”
“I want you to know why you’re saying it.”
I couldn’t give her that. Not honestly. Not kindly.
She nodded once, like that was answer enough, and grabbed her bag from the chair. “I have a call. I’ll text you the booking if I make it.”
“Vanessa.”
She paused by the door.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know you are.” Her voice wasn’t cold. That was the worst part. “I just don’t know if sorry is going to be enough.”
When she left, the apartment became too quiet and too loud at the same time.
I was late to the rink.
Not by much. Enough.
Roman caught me before I made it to the locker room, leaning against the hallway wall with his coffee and the expression of a man who had been waiting long enough to get dangerous.
“You look like shit.”
“Good morning to you too.”
“It’s eleven-thirty.”
“Time is fake.”
“Your calendar isn’t.”
I tried to pass him. He shifted just enough to block me.
“Move, Vega.”
“No.”
I stared at him. “I am really not in the mood.”
