Chapter 9
“What?”
His hand is still on my throat. I can feel my own pulse against the pad of his thumb. He can feel it too.
“Nobody has to know, Suzanne. It can be our little secret.”
He is staring at me. He means it. For a brief second, I imagine us sneaking around. I never considered being with him in any shape or form until this moment, and it actually seems possible.
No one has to know. I can keep my job and frolic with a guest who’s insanely attractive. It sounds good — too good to be true. I know why I’d want to keep it a secret, but what about him? What does he get out of this?
"Why?"
His eyes drop to my lips. "Why what?"
"Why would you want to keep it a secret?"
"Because of you. Because it’s what you want." His thumb traces the edges of my bottom lip. “I want you to be happy.”
He’s lying to me. I’m not entirely sure how I know, but I know he’s not telling me the entire truth. He definitely has his reasons for keeping this a secret. But why? Is it me? Do I embarrass him?
I pull away from him. “I’m not doing this.”
His hands drop to his sides. “Suzanne, I wasn’t trying to…”
“I’m not doing this. That’s the end of it.”
Cade nods and steps back. He gives me the room I desperately need. I do not realize how much of the room he has been taking until he gave it back to me, and the air on the side of my throat where his palm has been suddenly feels cold.
"I'll drive you home."
"No."
"Suzanne."
"I'd rather walk than be stuck with you for forty minutes. I can’t look at you right now."
He doesn’t argue. He just nods.
I don’t know what to do with him not arguing. I’m prepared for it, but now that it doesn’t come, I don’t know what to do with the words bubbling up in my throat. They have nowhere to go.
I have to get away from him before I lose my mind.
I walk past him and open the door, only to come face-to-face with Lila. Her hand is raised as if she were about to knock. Ever since I saw her in the hotel lobby with Cade, I’ve wondered what they have together.
On Cade’s end, it seems like friendship hanging by a thread. On her end, she’s holding on to him for dear life. I haven’t had many relationships. There’s just one after Marguerite died, so I have never experienced a love triangle or a jealous ex.
But I don’t need to have experienced one to tell what category this situation falls in, because Lila is quite literally sizing me up. She looks me up and down. The borrowed pants rolled at the ankle, the wet hair, the collar of Cade's shirt sliding off the wrong shoulder.
Her eyes narrow. I know what she’s thinking. Why would he want someone like me when she’s available?
We can ask him ourselves, Lila, I want to say, but I don’t.
She straightens. She’s much taller than me, but it doesn’t change anything. I’m not intimidated by her.
"So…are you sleeping with him?"
"Excuse me?"
"Are you sleeping with him?" She tilts her head. "Is that what this is?"
I roll my eyes and walk past her. Stupid. It irritates me when women think they need to fight for a man’s attention. I refuse to engage with that. I make my way down the hallway and down the stairs to the front door.
“Suzanne. Wait!”
Behind me, I hear Cade's voice in the hallway. I keep moving. I don't want to talk to him right now, not when he’s lying to me. So much for being in a good mood today. I actually thought we could have a decent time together. He just had to go and ruin it.
I reach for the doorknob, but he catches up to me. He swats my hands away. “I’m driving you home.”
I try again with my left hand. He swats it too. I place my hands on my hips and angle my body toward him so I don’t meet his gaze. “I said I didn’t want to look at you.”
"Fine. Don't look at me. Just let me drive you home."
He doesn’t even wait for me to answer. He’s already reaching for the door. I hear a set of footsteps behind us.
“You guys are leaving already?” Theo asks.
I turn to face Theo. “Your friend is an asshole.”
Theo comes to stand beside me. He leans in and whispers loud enough for Cade to hear, “Say the word, and I’ll punch him in the face.”
I grin. “That doesn’t sound so bad, actually.”
“Hey!” Cade throws his hands up. “A little help would be great.”
Theo pulls me into a side hug. “It was nice meeting you, Suzy. Don’t be a stranger.”
I don’t mind that he called me Suzy or that he hugged me without asking. Theo already feels like an old friend. “I won’t.”
“And you,” he says to Cade. “Don’t let me see your ugly face around here again.”
“Do you want me to kick you off my property?”
Theo waves a hand and disappears into the hallway to the kitchen. Cade and I stand there in awkward silence. He finally opens the door. We walk to his car, and soon enough, we’re back on the road.
I don’t look at him during the entire drive. I offer direction when necessary, with my face firmly planted against the glass. I try not to relive the moment his forehead was against mine, but then I find myself unable to resist replaying it endlessly.
I think about what he said. Not if we keep this a secret. I turn it over. I look at what I would have to agree to. There’ll be a lot of sneaking around, a lot of physical contact, and a lot of intimate touches in the dark.
That’s the problem.
I’ve spent my entire life being invisible. Is that still what I want to be?
But the thought of him, of this…of us…it’s thrilling. I don’t want to admit it, and it pains me to, but I want it.
I shake it off.
I’m almost home. I’ll deal with the Cade problem tonight, in my own bed, in my own apartment. I’ll not be a person who sleeps with rich men who ask her to keep secrets — at least not for tonight.
“Left,” I mumble.
He turns onto my street.
There are figures sitting on the front steps of my building, one male and one female. I squint in the darkness. Cade’s headlights land on them, and I see clearly.
I recognize my mother’s blonde pixie cut. The man beside her is Darryl, her boyfriend. He’s wearing a baseball cap with a cigar between his lips. My mother is wearing her signature leather jacket and boots. From the annoyed look on her face, I know she’s been waiting for a while.
That’s not good news for me.
My stomach flips violently. I suddenly feel sick at the thought of what is about to happen. It’s almost as if a train is coming our way, and we’re driving too fast to stop.
I glance at Cade for the first time. “Cade. Stop.”
“Is this your building?” He stops moving and gestures at the building right next to us.
We’re still a few meters away from my building. My mother hasn’t seen us yet. If he lets me out here, I can deal with her quietly and send her on her way.
“Yes, it is. Just stop. Thank you very much for the ride.”
He turns to me with a frown. “Are you okay?”
My eyes dart toward my building, and I lock gazes with her. My heart drops to the pit of my stomach. No. Her gaze shifts to the car, then to Cade. A slow smile spreads across her lips.
I wrack my brain, trying to figure out what to do. Do I risk eternal shame and humiliation? Or do I drive off with Cade and deal with her later?
I watch in horror as she stands and begins walking to the car. My hand flies to Cade’s arm, and I begin to shake him. “Drive. Drive!”
“What? I thought this was your building. What is — ”
There’s a tugging sound by the passenger door. I turn and see her pulling the door violently.
Her brown eyes are filled with rage. “Open up, Suzanne. Let Mommy in.”
Oh god, please. Please let this stop.
“Cade, please. Just drive.” His eyes meet mine. I’m not quite sure what he sees in them, but it’s enough. He doesn’t ask a follow-up question. He fires the engine and zooms off, causing my mother’s hands to slide off the door.
I can see her mouth moving in the side mirror as we pull away. She is shouting something. I can’t hear it through the glass, and I don’t turn around to read her lips.
Cade remains silent as he drives, and for once, I wish he would talk to me. I wish he’d say anything. This silence is unbearable. I also can’t tell what’s going through his mind. Does he think less of me now? Does he see what Roger and Lila see when they look at me?
I don’t have the answers. I’m shaking.
I didn’t realize I was shaking until I tried to put my hands flat in my lap, and they would not sit. I fold them. I press them between my knees. I stare at a point on the dashboard between the two air vents.
He reaches across the console. He puts his palm down on the top of my knee. I close my eyes and let out a deep breath. My body doesn’t stop shaking until we pull into the Cresswell’s basement.
He brings me up through the private elevator. I don’t ask any questions. I don’t argue. I’m too tired and too embarrassed to. I would rather be here, in a building I know how to clean, than in my apartment where my mother might still be sitting on the steps.
He opens the suite. He lets me in first. He closes the door. He doesn’t turn on the main lights. The lamp by the desk is on from earlier.
He disappears into the kitchen and returns with a glass of water. He hands it to me. I take a slow sip and feel my body relax.
I remain standing because I need to control my body somehow. I need that. Cade doesn’t sit either. He’s only a few feet away from me.
"Who is she?"
I look at the glass in my hand.
I could lie. I could tell him she is nobody. I could tell him she is a woman from my building who has been harassing me for the lease. I could ask him to drive me to Renée’s couch and never speak of any of it.
"My mother." I hear myself say, and I can’t stop. The words just pour out of my mouth. “She didn’t raise me. My aunt did, from when I was a baby until I was thirteen.”
“Why didn’t she raise you?”
“She had me when she was fifteen. Marguerite, my aunt, offered to take me in while my mom finished high school, and she just left me there. It wasn’t until she died that I went to live with my mom. I lasted only five years. I didn’t wait a single day after my eighteenth birthday. I left.”
"Hmm… And the man?"
"His name is Darryl. They’ve been seeing each other, on and off, since I was thirteen. My great-aunt left me money for college. My mother spent it on him before I turned seventeen. He is, as far as I know, the person who encourages all of her bad decisions.”
“What does she want?”
I laugh. “What else? Money. Taking my college fund wasn’t enough. She has decided that I owe her. She wants Marguerite's stuff — the only thing I have left of her. That’s probably why she brought Darryl to force me into giving them to her.”
I don’t want to cry. I’m too tired to cry. Cade doesn’t speak yet. I gather the courage to look up at him. His face is devoid of emotion.
I wait for him to give me the oh-that-is-terrible look. I won’t blame him. It is terrible, and there’s nothing he can do except feel sorry for me. I’d rather he feel sorry for me than repulsion. Pity I can handle. The latter, not so much.
His lips still don't speak, neither does his face. I’m uncomfortable with the silence. So I say something. “That’s why we can’t do this.”
Cade remains silent.
"You don't know me. I don't know you. We can't just — "
"Can't just what?"
I shake my head. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience. I'll be out of your hair soon."
He moves. He crosses to me and touches my cheek gently. “Stay. I want you to.”
There’s a heavy thump in my heart. I want to, but I’m not prepared to believe that he’s just okay with this. It doesn’t make sense to me.
“I can’t,” I whisper.
“Stay.”
“Cade, I…”
“Stay.”
I open my mouth. What comes out is the closest I'm going to get to a joke. "I'm not the kind of woman who handcuffs men to bed frames, Mr. Nightingale."
He doesn’t laugh, but he knows exactly what I mean. "I know you’re not. I'll sleep on the couch."
"Cade."
"I have slept on worse."
"Cade — "
"Suzanne. Go to bed."
I'm too tired to argue well, so he wins the argument in under two minutes.
He goes to a drawer. He pulls out a T-shirt — soft, old, the cotton thinned at the shoulders. He hands it to me. He shows me to the bathroom. He gives me space.
When I come back into the main room, he is already on the couch. He has a pillow from the bed under his head, one of the spare blankets folded across his hips, shoes off, phone face down on the coffee table.
"Bed, Suzanne."
I go to the bedroom and shut the door. I don't turn on the light.
I get in.
This is the bed where I found him, where his wrist was cuffed to the iron frame and the key was on the nightstand a few inches out of his reach. This bed is where he has slept every night for a month. The pillow smells like him. The whole bed smells like him. It is around me.
I lie on my back and close my eyes.
I can hear him through the wall — a page turning, a glass set down on a coaster, the low sound of him shifting his weight.
I turn onto my side and face the door.
I open my eyes.
There is a thin line of warm light under the door. The lamp by the desk in the main room is still on. I look at the line of light, and I think about the man on the other side of it.
I think about him for a long time.
I don't sleep.