“This was a mistake. Look at where we are right now.”
“It’s funny,” I said. I inhaled slowly, trying to get a handle on the panic rising up my chest. Phoebe was sleeping next to us andif she woke up to the sound of Dex’s doubt… if she woke up in the morning to find out the rug had been wrenched out from under her for the second time in nine months… I couldn’t let it happen. I wouldn’t. “Just because things aren’t going according to plan doesn’t mean it’s a mistake.”
He let out a humorless laugh. “What plan?”
“What about Catalina?” I asked desperately.What about Phoebe?I couldn’t ask. Or worse,What aboutme?
“It’s too much,” he repeated, and I wondered if my sister and I had managed to finish off this already-broken man.
“I know it’s a lot. We’re a lot.” I swallowed, casting Phoebe a sidelong glance. She looked so peaceful, pink hair fanned over her cheek, her breathing soft and steady. “But she needs this. And considering you agreed to do this, I think you need it too.”
“This is crazy,” he said. “It’s crazy that we’re doing this. We’re out of our fucking minds, Violet.”
“Maybe. But we’re already here.”
“It’s not too late to turn around.”
My mantra of the past twenty-four hours echoed in my mind:I can call it off. I forced myself to shake my head and said, “Please.”
His jaw ticked. “I’m too tired to deal with this right now,” he muttered, turning away from me. He squatted down in front of his bag, resuming his rifling. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
I swallowed the urge to argue. It had been a long day, a longer week, and I was so tired, I could feel it in my bones. I understood Dex’s hesitation—my own had been plaguing me since we left, and it took everything in me to fight against turning around.
But I had to keep us on the road for Phoebe. Hopefully with some rest and distance from the day, Dex would change his mind.
I plunked down on the pile of blankets nearest to the bed. They were softer than anticipated, but very much not a bed. Istretched out and pulled a Sherpa throw up to my chin. My reflection blinked at me in the darkening room, humidity from the shower drifting in with a hint of lavender soap. I heard the zipper of Dex’s bag, and his softExcuse meas he stepped over my legs on his way to the bathroom. I shut my eyes, waiting for my sore, fatigued body to shut down until morning, and then immediately checked my phone.
7:41P.M.Bedtimes don’t exist on road trips, surely.
The squeak of the faucet caught my attention. God, it was quiet enough to hear the splash of water in the sink—unwittingly, I imagined Dex bent over it, shirtless, washing away the ire of the last two hours. Twelve hours. Month. I decided it was okay to imagine Dex shirtless because I was overtired and, okay, it had been almost a year since I’d been in proximity of a shirtless someone with the type of hands that told you they could destroy your entire world with the flick of a wrist.
The faucet squeaked off and I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to fall asleep before I heard something I couldn’t unhear. But then the shower was on, drowning out anything that might be happening in the bathroom, and I shifted in the blankets in an attempt at a comfortable position. My backkilled. With a groan, I shoved off the throw and crawled to my luggage, digging out the jumbo bottle of ibuprofen I’d packed. I took two and meandered over to the window, gazing at the gardens below.
No view of the courtyard. Curiosity scratched up my insides and my brain took off in favor of the distraction, coming up with wild scenarios of what could be going on down there. All were in the same vein as an orgy.
The shower shut off. I grimaced and padded to my blankets, unwilling to face him again tonight. Dex slipped out of the bathroom, unleashing the scent of his soap—a heady medley of citrusand cedar, the sort of clean scent you want to bury your face in and breathe until you’re made up of it.
Nope. It wasn’t late enough to warrant thoughts likethat.
I remained still, taking in the dull glow of Dex’s phone across the room. I wondered if he was working, or maybe doom-scrolling like a normal person. I stared until he shut the screen off with a sigh. I took the opportunity to check my phone again. 9:23P.M.
I must’ve fallen asleep for a minute or two, because I certainly hadn’t been staring at Dex for an hour.
Dex’s phone illuminated once again, and I watched him reach for it. Our eyes met in the mirrored ceiling, barely more than acquaintances lying on the floor of an extraordinarily pink hotel room, and I couldn’t help the laugh bubbling up my neck.
“Did I wake you?” he asked quietly, letting his phone dim. I flipped mine over, leaving my side of the room completely dark.
“I wasn’t asleep.” I hesitated, listening to Phoebe’s quiet snores. “I’m sorry I made us stay.”
“Don’t be.”
“We’re sleeping on the floor because of me. And I am feeling every second of it.”
He leaned up on his elbows, the shadow of him shifting. “Do you want another blanket?”
“I’m good. Thanks, though.”
His phone lit up again. He flipped it over, leaving the rest of the room in the same stark darkness. “I should’ve double-checked the accommodations. That’s on me,” he said, using the sort of voice I associated with face-to-face conversations at 2A.M.Soft and secret. “I’m sorry.”
