39. Salem
SALEM
“ W ant in?” Cillian extends the pool cue to me.
“I’m good.”
“I want in,” Onyx says. “Zeke?”
“Yeah,” Ezekiel replies, sliding off the stool next to me. “I need a refill first.” He polishes off his beer. “Want another round?”
“Sure,” I reply.
“White wine, right?”
“Yeah, Pinot Grigio. Thanks.”
“Can you grab me a glass too?” Cillian throws over his shoulder, but Ezekiel is already making his way to our private lounge bar.
My phone lights up on the counter next to me.
I glance at the screen, click accept, and I’m on my feet. “Hey—hello.”
“Hey.” Blue’s voice comes through the line. “Hey, one sec.” I turn to Cillian. “I’m out.”
As I beeline for the door, Zeke shouts, “Yo, your wine.”
“Give it to Cillian,” I throw back.
“Hey, my bad. How are you?” I push the elevator button. “You’ve been kinda quiet.”
“Uh, are you staying at the Regis or Four Seasons?” he asks.
“Regis. Why?”
“I’m, uh, in the lobby.”
“W-what?”
“Yeah. I’m downstairs.”
“Seriously?” I start to move toward the staircase when the elevator arrives. I hop on and stab the button for the first floor.
“Yeah. Is that okay?” he asks.
“You’re here, like, in Chicago?” I repeat, not quite believing it. I stab the first-floor button again. “Hello?” I pull the phone away from my ear and see that the call dropped.
As soon as the door opens, I beeline for the lobby. I make it a few steps when I hear, “Hey.”
I turn so fast that I flinch when I spot him standing in the corner.
“Hey!” I exclaim so loudly that he grins.
Removing his shades, he pushes off the wall. “I almost tried the Four Seasons first, but our team stayed here last time, so figured it was a better guess.”
“You’re really here.” I pull him into a hug. “You flew from Milwaukee?”
“Took a car.” He says, hugging me back. “Tell me about Denzel.”
Huh? I step back. “You’re here because of Denzel?”
The sound of voices drawing near makes us shuffle toward the elevator.
“Yes,” he replies as the doors open and we get in. “Ana?s only told me a few hours ago.” He removes his beanie. “Are you okay?”
He drove a car two hours to ask if I’m okay?
His shoulders draw up slightly, and I realize I’m staring and not speaking.
“Yeah. I mean no.” I lean against the elevator wall. “I’m actually kinda freaked out.”
He moves closer. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wanted to, but the door had just opened with you and me. I was holding out hope that he’d pop up and all our concerns were for nothing.” We arrive at my floor, and I lead him toward my room. “It never felt like the right time.”
I unlock the door and flick on the light.
“But the cabin…” he says, and I wince at the hurt in his voice.
“I know…I’m sorry.” I turn and perch on the bed.
“We talked for hours.”
I know.
“I knew you were off that last time at the cabin before we made love in the rain,” he ruminates out loud as he tosses his coat on the armchair. “I don’t want you to be sorry.” He walks over and lifts my chin. “I want to know everything. Tell me.”