Chapter 26 Cross Section
CROSS SECTION
LILA
Calla: Lila.
Serena: Lila.
Calla: LIIIIILA.
Serena: We know.
Calla: We KNOW.
Lila: …what do you think you know?
Calla: Oh wow. That’s not even denial. That’s the text version of putting on sunglasses and pretending no one can see you.
Serena: You disappeared from the group chat for 18 hours and when you came back you said NOTHING of consequence.
Calla: That’s not normal Lila behavior.
Serena: Unless it was post-sexual-conspiracy-bonding behavior.
Calla: WHICH IT WAS
Lila: …maybe.
Serena: MAYBE.
Calla: OH MY GOD.
Serena: SHE ACTUALLY DID IT.
Calla: I need DETAILS. Did he brood at you while undressing you? Was there emotional eye contact?
Serena: Did he use his courtroom voice?
Lila: I’m not answering any of these questions.
Calla: That’s a yes.
Serena: That’s a FILTHY yes.
Lila: I hate both of you.
Calla: You’re glowing through the text. We win.
Serena: For real though. Are you okay? Did dong-a-saurus-rex destroy your cervix?
Lila: Indeed he did.
Lila: So. So. Sore.
Lila: But weirdly, yeah. I think I’m more than okay.
Calla: *sobbing emoji*
Serena: STOP I’M FEELING THINGS
Calla: Do we get to call him Theo now or do we still have to refer to him as Professor Pipe Dream?
Calla: GET IT
Calla: PIPE
Serena: I feel weird using his government name after all the things I just imagined him doing to you. I think I need him to remain a concept in my mind as opposed to a tangible man who exists and shops at grocery stores and does that thing with his tongue.
Lila: Please stop imagining our sexy times.
Calla: So possessive
Serena: Our little emotionally constipated girl is all grown up
Theo’s in front of the mirror, rubbing product into the wavy hair at the back of his head, his brow creased in that familiar line that makes him look either wildly focused or a little bit lost. I want to smooth the lines, press my mouth to the spot, but instead, I settle for watching him through the fog of my mind still reeling from all the orgasms.
Yesterday afternoon turned into late night and night turned into morning.
Morning into late morning. Late morning into the kind of late afternoon where your legs still feel shaky and you’re too hungry to function, but you keep finding yourself curled back around each other like magnets with no self-control.
The window’s open just enough for the breeze to enter and slice through the illusion that time isn’t moving. That this isn’t our last day here.
“Dinner’s at seven,” I say, leaning my head against the doorframe. “Emily said the caterer’s already setting up. Apparently, ‘farewell feasts’ are a family tradition.”
Theo snorts an of course they are kind of snort. “Well, we’ve got a solid track record now. One accidental chloroform incident, an eighteen hour sexcapade, and a modest pile of crimes we may or may not be accessories to. Plus a few unsolved variables with our fingerprints all over them.”
I step into the bathroom. “You forgot the part where we accidentally caught feelings.”
He turns to me and looks at me like I’ve said something scandalous.
His hand lifts, thumb pressing under my chin like he’s trying to keep this version of me from slipping away—slightly dazed, still tangled in bedsheet energy. “That happened way before this week for me, Dr. Jennings.”
My stomach clenches, something restless and bright bubbling up from the pit. It feels like the first time I’ve ever felt this. Maybe it is.
Theo’s phone buzzes on the counter.
The screen lights up. I look without thinking. I register the name first. The rest of the message changes everything.
Graham: The blood from the paint smudge is Baryn’s. Already had his elimination sample on file.
Everything in me tightens in that familiar way it does when the truth shows up without warning, and for a second my vision tunnels.
Theo reads it. I watch his face go pale.
This isn’t a clue. It’s a live wire, a fuse lit under the delicate scaffolding of almost-normal we’ve built together in this room in the last twenty-four hours.
He doesn’t look at me right away. Just stares at his reflection in the mirror, hands braced against the edge of the sink.
“We were right to suspect him,” he says finally, though he seems as uncertain as I feel. I can’t identify the reason for either reaction. “But I still can’t believe it’s him.”
“Whether it was him or not, we can at least prove he was there.” I reach for the hairbrush, but my hands don’t feel steady. Nothing does. “We’re running out of time.”
Theo meets my gaze in the mirror. “We’re going to have to confront him.”
I don’t know why I hadn’t considered it until now—that if we actually figured out who did this, we’d have to decide what to do with the information. It feels ridiculous that it’s only hitting me at this point, but he’s right. We do have to confront him.
I set the brush down again. “I have to do something. I can’t sit on this information and go to dinner like nothing happened.”
“Not on your own you’re fucking not.” His voice is strained.
There’s a small pull at the corner of my mouth. “I wasn’t planning on it, big guy.” I reach up and pat his chest.
He turns to face me, giving me his full attention. “So. How do we move forward?”
“I need to find a way to talk to him with no one else around.”
He considers that, jaw working. “That doesn’t sound safe. Not to mention the fact that he will simply try to lie his way out of it.”
“He won’t. I don’t think he’s that foolish. But he’ll try to spin it. Minimize.”
Theo draws in a breath and lets it out. “You think he did it?”
“I really don’t know,” I say, too fast. Because I was incredibly suspicious for so long, but now that we are here, I have an unease in the pit of my stomach.
My gut doesn’t usually steer me wrong. And it’s been circling Baryn from the start. But even with this new evidence that should settle everything, my instincts won’t let me land on him fully. Something’s missing. Something that would make the picture make sense.
Why?
I can’t think of a single good reason why Baryn would do something like this.
“You can’t know for sure how he will react,” Theo insists.
“You will be there,” I say. “But I have a feeling it will be easier for me to get him alone.”
I can tell Theo doesn’t like the implications of what I’ve just said. I don’t either, but the fact remains: Baryn would jump at the chance to be alone with me, even if the only motive is pissing off Theo.
A muscle in his cheek ticks, but he nods. “Just promise me something.”
“What?”
“That you won’t give him more credit than he deserves. If he is the one who killed Victoria, he’s capable of a lot more than just some sarcastic-ass remark.”
I nod again. “I promise.”
Theo presses a kiss to my temple. I lean into him.
This is the last night we’ll be here. One way or another, the truth is coming with us when we leave.
We stand there for a long moment before he finally pulls back—not far, just enough to look me over. The bathroom suddenly feels too small for everything sitting between us.
He studies me. “All the color has gone from your cheeks,” he murmurs. “When was the last time you ate?”
“I’m fine,” I say, though the slight sway in my balance gives me away.
He clears his throat, knuckles tapping the counter. It’s a small, restless movement. “You’re not,” he says. “Come on. You need something in your system before we plan any of this out.”
I follow him into the kitchen, legs unsteady for reasons that have nothing to do with the hours we spent tangled together.
Okay, it may have a little something to do with that.
Theo pulls out a bar stool and sets his hands on my hips, lifting me and easing me onto it. I want to tell him I’m not that fragile, but I kind of like the attention.
Being in the kitchen feels strange after the bombshell just dropped on us. There’s no one around. Since dinner is being catered, there’s not really much of a reason for anyone to be in here. Everything is eerily quiet. The inside of my head is so fucking loud in contrast.
He just stares at me for a second, then walks over and opens the fridge, grabbing a container of cut fruit, a small coconut yogurt, and a bottle of water. He sets them on the counter, opens the yogurt, and hands me a spoon.
I stare at it a second too long. “Giles will not be happy about this if he finds us here again.”
He nudges the water toward me. “Don’t make me force feed you.”
I eat mechanically, the taste barely registering. My thoughts are on a rollercoaster, Baryn in the front seat, and the one part that still somehow refuses to fit.
I can’t put my finger on it.
There’s so much I want to say to Theo that I can’t. At least not here.
My eyes drift to the refrigerator and I stifle a groan.
This fucking house.
He watches me shovel down my food while not eating anything himself.
I can’t come up with a single version of this that doesn’t end badly.
There are too many variables.
If only this were one of those fictional murder mystery setups where you put the whole cast into the library, explain the clues in order, and end with a nice, theatrical “the butler did it.”
Nothing is ever wrapped up so neatly in real life.
I can’t stop thinking about Henry. About Victoria. About the version of her I thought I understood and the one I keep uncovering piece by piece. This whole thing has shoved us into territory neither of us could have ever planned for.
At the end of the day, I owe it to them to follow the truth all the way through, no matter how nervous I feel now, and no matter how complicated things have become.
“It’s so hard to imagine her being a killer after all we’ve been through. I don’t even know how to go about this at all now,” I muse, forgetting where I am for the briefest of moments.
Theo hums. “I know. It doesn’t fit into this neat little box either of us hoped it would when we came here. But we can’t ignore what we found.” He twists a strand of my hair around his index finger, giving me an apologetic look. “No matter who it hurts. The truth deserves to be known.”
I let my head fall onto his shoulder, blowing out a shaky breath.
“I guess what we’re both learning from this is that everything isn’t as black and white as we originally thought, to the point that it’s going to be downright painful.
I wanted to do this for Emily. To help her, to give her answers. Closure. And now—” I trail off.
Theo strokes his fingers along the back of my neck, gentle and protective. “We don’t have to make a decision right away. I know she is your friend and she’s been through so much.”
I open my mouth to answer, but the words never make it out. Something in the space shifts almost imperceptibly, and Theo’s hand stills at the base of my neck.
I look up hoping for almost anyone else, but it’s Emily.