Page 137 of The Restoration Program

“No. We’re here. We may as well go in. It’s my apartment too, right?”

Legally, no. But Ryanhadagreed to give Darlene a key.

Truth be told, Nicole worried that speaking on the phone or even through text would lead to an argument and a dead end before a real conversation had a chance to form. She couldn’t stand the idea waiting around for another week without closure.

Nicole’s nerves were steeped in dread as Darlene carried her to the door and unlocked it. The entryway was dark, but light came from the hall that led toward the bedroom. He was still awake.

Dismounting onto the long NüPrint walkway by the front door, Nicole took a deep breath. The path before her wrapped the wall and vanished around the corner to meet the bedroom. She gripped the rail tightly with one hand, her feet uncooperative.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Darlene asked.

“Not yet.”

“Okay. I’ll be right here.”

Nicole patted her hand, managing a tight smile. “Thank you.”

She stared out at the living room and cavernous hallway. She could probably navigate the familiar space with her eyes closed, but there was something cold about the room tonight. The empty couch and darkened kitchen and vacant TV screen all seemed to glare at her like an unwelcome guest.

As her feet dragged forward, Nicole’s hand moved to the comforting hold on the knife under her green knit sweater. Her knuckles whitened on the handle as she repeated her speech over and over in her head.

What’s done is done. We need to move forward and I’m prepared to make this as amiable as possible. I hope you are, too.

Her mind raced with grief and nerves and ugly anger. And an unspoken ache that wondered if Ryan was lying awake, missing her desperately and wrestling not to call her.

The bedroom door loomed immediately past the second left turn. What if he came out and apologized, tears streaming down his face? She braced herself, reminded herself to stick to her script.

What’s done is done—

She wavered where she stood when she heard his voice somewhere inside.

“Ryan?” she called softly.

No answer.

His voice sounded strange. It was labored, layered with foreign noises.

She stopped dead, leaning the railing for support.

No, not foreign. She felt dizzy, thinking about the last time she’d heard him make those noises.

Jaw set, she reached for the NüPrint door handle.

The bedroom door flew open and a woman walked out. Cora did not notice her at first. Her auburn hair was wild and she had a sex-drunk smile on her face. One of Ryan’s t-shirts hung off her two sizes too big.

Nicole nearly crumpled where she stood. She’d been falling apart at the thought of losing Ryan, and here he was, fucking another woman in their own home.

Some noise must’ve escaped her—Cora seized up at the sight of her on the walkway, dropping the two empty wine glasses in her hands.

“Oh my god,” Cora gasped. “Nicole, you… What are you doing here?”

Nicole wanted to scream. All that came out was a pathetic, trembling voice. “I fucking live here.”

The two of them gaped at each other while Ryan continued to moan in the bedroom. It took a moment to register. Nicole tore her eyes away from Cora and stared at the NüPrint door before her.

“What the hell?” she breathed as Ryan gave another heavy groan.

“Don’t!” Cora hissed when Nicole reached for the door.