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When she’s on the other side of it, I shut us both in and lock the door.
She doesn’t protest.
She just stands there and waits for me to answer her question and I can’t. Not without opening a door neither of us can afford to step through.
Instead I do what I do.
I deflect.
“Why what, Tesla?” I say, moving away from the door. Into the kitchen area to get her a glass. I plunk it down on the counter and tip my half-empty bottle over its rim. “I imagine most everything I’ve done over the past nine years presents a bit of a mystery to you, so you’re going to have to be a bit more specific.” I lean to the side to open my freezer. Fishing out an ice cube, I slip it into her glass before sliding it toward her, across the counter.
Jesus. Did I say she looks good?
She doesn’t look good.
She looks like a revelation.
A dream.
Like every good thing I’ve ever wanted but never deserved.
She comes toward me and lifts her fist. Opening it, she drops something on the counter next to the glass of whiskey I just poured her. “You should’ve asked Anton for the receipt.”
Shit.
“Don’t be mad at Henley.” I shake my head, not even looking at the balled-up piece of paper. “I manipulated her into it. Blackmailed her. She didn’t want to, but I—”
“Why?”
We’ve circled back to that.
“Tes—”
“Why?” She takes a step toward me, fists still clenched but held low at her sides. I wish she’d raise them. I wish she’d hit me. Scream. Fight. I can handle that Tess. I can lie to her. Push her away.
This Tess, with her wide hazel eyes and trembling jaw, lays me open. Pulls the truth out of me so fast and clean, I don’t even realize what I’m saying is true until it’s too late to reel it in.
“Because when I saw you in it, for that split second before you saw me, you were smiling. You looked happy and I wanted to see it again—” I lift a hand and swipe it over my face, trying to smother the truth. Stop it from slipping out. “I wanted to be the reason you were smiling, even if you didn’t know it. Even if it was aimed at someone else.”
She stares at me like I just slapped her. Eyes wide. Lips parted slightly. Chest heaving. “You can’t just—” Her jaw goes tight and she looks away from me. Closes her mouth to breathe through her nose, deep and slow, like she’s trying to keep herself under control. I wish she wouldn’t. I wish she’d let go. Watching her struggle is killing me but when she looks at me again, her gaze is narrowed but dry. Angry but restrained. “You don’t get to say things like that to me. Not anymore.”
I feel my own jaw tense at her tone. “If you don’t want the truth you shouldn’t ask for it, Tesla,” I tell her and her gaze flashes hot at my tone. Condescending, bordering on arrogant.
She tips her face up to glare at me. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.” I lean into her, my face hovering above hers, and shake my head. “You want to hate me. That’s not really the same thing, is it?”
I think she’s going to hit me.
Pick up the drink I poured her and throw it in my face.
When she takes a step back and reaches down to take off one of her spiked heels, I expect to get the business end of it in my eye socket.
She tosses it aside.
Reaches down and takes off the other and tosses that one too.
“What are you doing?” My mouth goes dry when she gives me a sly little smile and reaches for the zipper keeping her dress closed.