Chapter 32
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.
Nothing gets past Eira. I don’t know if it’s the nanny in her, or the fact that she was more like a mother to me than an older sister. She knows me inside out.
“Maybe a little.”
“Do I need to fly over and give him a stern talking-to?”
I laugh. I’d pay money to see how that conversation went. Bennett wouldn’t stand a chance.
“No, but thanks. I’ll survive. It’s not like—” I can’t find the words. To people looking from the outside in, it would be difficult to see how I could be cut up about what’s happened to Bennett and me. Someone who didn’t understand the connection I felt would tell me to move on, shake it off, get under the next guy.
I get it.
But it didn’t take long for me to feel more for Bennett than I’ve ever felt for any man. Whatever those feelings were, they’re going to take some getting over. It’s not a case of slipping on some heels and a short skirt and having a night out. That’s not going to cure my twisted-up insides.
Only time will do that.
I hope.
“It’s not like what?” Eira asks.
“I’m twenty-two. And I’m in New York. It’s not like?—”
“Where did you meet him?”
This isn’t a conversation I want to have. What am I going to say? Oh, I picked him up in a bar and he shagged my brains out and I cleaned his room and he bent me over his desk.
And then, all of a sudden, it wasn’t just about sex. If it ever was.
“Work. Kinda.”
“Oh, he works at the hotel?”
I need to close this conversation down. The more questions she asks, the more I reveal, the less Bennett would like it. Not that my sister knows much about Fort Inc. or American business moguls who don’t want their identities revealed. Not that I couldn’t trust my sister with my life. But Bennett wouldn’t want to be discussed, and talking about him won’t change anything.
“Sort of,” I say. He does own the place. “I’m going to have a shower. And then I’m going to head to the park.” It hurts, but knowing I can’t have a sister-to-sister conversation about the boy who broke my heart helps a little. It makes me realize that Bennett and I were going to have to go our separate ways at some point. I can’t be with someone I can’t reveal to Eira. I need to start trying to move forward.
“Some sunshine and fresh air will be good for you.”
“It’s August in New York. Nothing about being outside is good for anyone. But I appreciate the platitude.”
She laughs. “Come back home. We’re due a full week of rain after today.”
That’s what life would be back in London. Predictably drizzly.
And Bennett-free.
Not so different to life in New York.