Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“Who is she?”
“She’s appeared out of nowhere.” I let out an ironic laugh. “Fuck, she’s been submissive and uber charming. Can’t leave him alone for five seconds. Christ, it’s not Efa, it’s Nadia. Get Chul on the phone. We need him to check her out immediately.”
Chul tells us it’s going to take some time to check out Nadia. After all, I have no surname or photo, and a quick search reveals she has zero social media presence. Maybe Efa would have more details about her—she sacrificed more than one night trying to run interference for me—but that situation is complicated. Until I can get certainty on Nadia, I’m not speaking to anyone about this situation.
I need to be sure. About everyone and everything.
But relief floods through me like a collapsed damn. I don’t know what I’d have left if Leo had been the one betraying me. Or any of my friends. I’m not sure I could have handled it. And now I don’t have to.
“Thank fucking god,” I say out loud, because I can’t keep it in any longer.
It’s not Leo.
It’s not Efa.
I feel it in my gut. Yes, I want confirmation. I want to understand who and why and every other detail. But at the same time, the hurricane inside me has slowed to a breeze.
If it’s not my friends, and it’s not Efa. This will be rough for Leo, but he’s strong and he’ll get through it. At least it’s no one any of us have known for long—not someone part of our inner circle.
THIRTY-TWO
Efa
Having so many shifts at the hotel over the past week has been a blessing in disguise. It’s helped camouflage the hurt I’ve been feeling, pushed it under the rug with a quick shove. But now, on my day off, I’m exhausted from the pretense. And I’m aware of the hurt in every part of my heart.
I feel so abandoned by Bennett. He was so quick to believe the worst in me and it was so easy for him to walk away. Maybe my feelings for him weren’t reciprocated, but I thought… What did I think? I must have misread so much, misunderstood the connection I thought we had.
“I’m worried about you,” Eira says as I balance the phone on the pillow beside me so I don’t have to use energy holding it. “You look pale.”
“I haven’t seen sunlight in eight days.” It’s a slight exaggeration, but not much of one. I’ve been at work for seven in the morning and home at six at night. I’m tired. And I’m kinda heartbroken.
“When do you come home back to London?” she asks. “Does Gretel need you that much? You were meant to have a flexible arrangement. Can’t she flexibly let you come back home?”
Should I go back to London? Realistically, I’m sure I could find a reason to go back that Gretel would understand. I was only meant to be here another couple of weeks anyway.
There are so many things to miss about home: the buzz I feel walking through Covent Garden, the way my sister is just a few minutes away, the way there’s a place for everyone, no matter who you are.
“I’m homesick,” I confess.
“Come back,” she says.
There’s only one thing in New York I’d miss. It’s not the warm pretzels or the scenic walk to work.
It’s Bennett.
If I leave now, it will be like I’ve pulled the shutters down on our… what did we have? A relationship? A love affair? I will have walked away from our time together. Even though I’m frustrated that he blames me for the attacks on Fort—even though if I saw him again, I’d want to shout at him for not trusting me when I’ve only ever given him reasons to believe in me—there’s something about being in the same city, breathing the same air, that’s comforting. For now. There’s a pull to this city that I can’t ignore.
Maybe when my heart hurts a little less, it will be easier to leave.
“I can’t come back,” I say. “I’ll be back in a few weeks. I don’t want to let Gretel down.”
There’s a couple of beats of silence before she says, “Your hair has grown, and it seems lighter.”
“Maybe it happened in the Catskills?”
“How’s Bennett?” she asks.
I haven’t told her about our fight. It’s unusual for me to keep information like that from my sister, but there’s been so much secrecy involved in being with Bennett. Maybe that’s part of the reason I’m so tired. I’ve been on constant guard, ensuring I don’t say the wrong thing to anyone. I can’t just be myself.
“Good,” I say.
She must tell by my tone that something’s off because her eyebrows shoot up. It’s the expression she uses for the children in her care that are up to no good. “Is he the reason you’re sad?” she asks.