Chapter 18
March
Five Weeks Until The Wedding
I drag myself up the stairs to my apartment. My limbs are heavy, like bags of sand have been tied to my wrists and ankles. All I want is a hot bath and the comfort of my bed.
What a day. Between the revelations about the chest and key and my fraught conversation with Carter, my brain is exhausted. Sleep will do me good. After a solid afternoon nap, I’ll be able to process everything. I’ll figure out where the key is and how to handle things with Carter.
I turn the knob of my front door and throw it open.
Kotka’s nowhere to be found. Probably swatting at pigeons on the fire escape.
I drop my purse and keys on the front hall table and make a beeline to my bedroom, collapsing facedown on the bed.
Maybe I’ll skip the bath and go straight to sleep, except I really should wash off my makeup.
I nuzzle my face into the soft comforter.
I’ll count to five and get up. Okay, ten.
Carter’s words replay in my mind, the same way they did the whole way home.
Was I really drunk that night? Pleasantly buzzed, maybe, but not to the extent I would act like a totally different person.
No, I was actually having fun. Acting on my own impulses, unbothered by how it would look.
For once. Maybe we just need to talk about it.
Carter has known me for fifteen years. He was my friend when no one else wanted to be.
He’ll accept that I’m changing. Or choosing to be myself.
I can’t be sixteen forever, biting my tongue against the privileged comments he would make or pretending my black party dress is different from the one I wore to the last event.
There’s no shame in the things that make me who I am.
I can only hope Carter will feel the same way.
And if he doesn’t, I’m not sure what that means for us.
The bed is bliss but the siren song of a hot bath calls my name, so I force myself up and walk to the bathroom.
I turn the faucet on and let the steam fill the small room.
Renting this apartment meant compromising on square footage but gaining this heavenly claw-foot tub.
Nothing quite resets my mind like being in water.
I add some lavender bath soap and peel off my clothing.
The steam mixes with the lavender and perfumes the bathroom.
I test the water with my toe and step in, submerging myself up to my ears. Pure ecstasy. My thoughts wander back to the bridal shower.
Which lucky Carmichael has been given the key this time?
The implication is that Phillip Carmichael entrusts one of his relatives with the key while he keeps the chest close. Presumably so neither is in the same location. But he must rotate which relative so that it’s never clear where it is. Even to his own family members, it seems.
I’d never seen Sabrina so tight-lipped, so…
nervous. It was odd. And the way those women at the table eyed each other when the question was raised.
I might have a harder time getting her to confide in me about this than I thought.
Dammit, Trip. Does he really know where the key is?
Or is it all a bluff? I’ve had enough Coldwells and Carmichaels for one day. Time to turn my brain off and soak.
“Is this what you smell like?”
My stomach clenches and I exhale. When I open my eyes, Trip is sitting on the tile floor, inspecting the soap container. I cover myself with my hands below the water.
“Excuse me?”
“I can’t smell anything anymore.” There are dark half-moons below his eyes and several days of stubble on his chin. “I’m wondering if this is what you might smell like.”
I sit up a bit, still covering my naked body. “Why are you here, Trip?”
He moves closer and rests his chin on the lip of the tub. The water is boiling but I shiver at his proximity. I raise my eyebrows at him, waiting.
He averts his eyes to the floor. “I tend to run away from conflict. When someone’s criticizing me.” His eyelashes sweep upward and there’s guilt in those brown eyes. “Like with my grandfather—I ran away and didn’t speak to him for a year.”
Trip rubs the back of his neck. “It isn’t right. I—it’s something I’m working on.”
“Okay.” I let out the breath I’m holding. “So why are you here?”
“The other day. I got defensive when you asked me about Sabrina. And then I left in the middle of our argument. I shouldn’t have.” His eyes bore into mine.
I didn’t think it was possible to feel more naked, but I do.
“It makes sense that you would be hurt. I let you spend all that time with Sabrina without being completely honest about our previous relationship.”
“You didn’t technically lie,” I acquiesce.
“Lie by omission.” He shrugs.
A drop of water falls from my bottom lip and Trip presses his thumb there. That familiar buzzy energy tingles my mouth and sends a vibration down my body. I squeeze my legs together under the water.
“You’re very good at avoiding questions.” I lower my eyebrows at him.
“Why am I here? Three reasons.” He holds up three fingers and wiggles his pointer finger. “First.”
“You want to know where the chest is.”
His jaw drops. “Damn, you have no faith in me. If I could splash you right now, I would.” He cocks an eyebrow. “First, I’m sorry. For the way I left the other day.”
“I thought we already covered that.”
“I hadn’t actually apologized.”
“Oh, well, apology accepted.” I tilt my chin down, guilt tugging at my stomach. “Trip, I said some things I didn’t mean, too. Like about you not having a future? I’m sorry for saying that.” I’d rather drown in this water than meet his eyes right now.
“Yeah.” He drags his thumb across his lower lip.
I grip the edge of the tub. “You do have a future. We’re going to figure it out.”
He gives a half smile. “Okay, Elz.”
I clear my throat. “What were the other reasons?”
“Second.” He holds up two fingers. “I missed you.” The apples of his cheeks turn rosy.
“Be serious.” I splash water droplets, which sail right through him.
“In case you can’t tell, I’m in a pretty miserable state.”
The dark circles under his eyes. The rumpled condition of his usually pristine clothing.
“Do ghosts—sorry. Astral projections. Do you sleep?”
“Not knowing any others, I can’t speak on spirits as a whole. But yes, I find it helps to turn my brain off every now and then.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Hasn’t been easy this past week, though.”
“Where do you sleep?” I picture his ghost on park benches, haunting his old apartment, maybe some old speakeasy.
The right side of his mouth pulls upward, revealing a white canine. “Top of the Rock.”
“The touristy observation deck? You’re kidding.”
“I’m not. Pretty iconic, isn’t it? Only downside is they start letting visitors in at eight in the morning.”
“Which is why you haven’t been sleeping?”
“Man, you’ll avoid the truth at all costs, won’t you?
” Trip brings his face closer to mine. His brown hair curls at the ends.
He looks more like the version of him I saw in the hospital bed—disheveled, but cozy.
“I haven’t been sleeping because I couldn’t get our fight off my mind. I missed your company.”
“My company?”
His face feels impossibly close; I can see the grooves in his pink lips, the slight creases in between his eyebrows. My stomach tightens and I press my legs together, fighting off the unbearable sensation stirring in me.
“Among other things.” His eyes dip to the line of the water.
My body is on fire. I want to grab him by the neck and drag him into this tub with me, but it would be like grabbing at air.
It’s maddening that I’ve never felt those lips, never so much as brushed against his side, felt the weight of his palms on my body.
Would they be smooth or calloused? Would his touches be gentle or rough?
I close my eyes and swallow. Maybe it will clear my mind of these distracting thoughts.
When I open them again, Trip is staring at my neck like he wants to devour it.
I grab my hair and twist it up off my shoulders as a reprieve from the heat, but it means moving the hand that was covering my chest. Trip’s eyes don’t leave mine, but the tension in his jaw, the palpable vibration in the air, tells me he’s operating with the utmost restraint.
The light over my vanity flickers momentarily before snapping back to its original glow. Like in a thunderstorm right before the generator kicks in. I look out the window and the sky is a brilliant blue.
I turn back to Trip and lick my lips. A small groan escapes his mouth.
“What was the third reason?”
“Reason?” He breathes. His eyes are glued to my lips.
“The third reason you’re here.” I shift myself slightly under the water. There’s something terrifying yet electric about my bare skin being this close to him. The desire to cover more of myself wars with a recklessness willing him to look.
“Oh.” His eyes uncloud, as though awakening from a daydream. He clears his throat. “Right. I have a proposition for you.”
“Oh?” I cant my head.
“I don’t want to keep secrets from you anymore. The Sabrina thing was a mistake. From here on out, I’m going to lay it all on the table. I trust you implicitly, and I want you to feel the same. If we’re…working together.”
“Working together?” I grin.
“Yes. On breaking the curse.” His eyes are wide, pleading. This man is practically on his knees for me.
I don’t say anything, but can’t stop my smile from stretching, can’t help the giddiness bubbling inside me like soda fizz.
“Deal, then? We agree to be honest with each other?” Trip holds out his hand for a—considering the circumstances, somewhat arbitrary—handshake.
I glance down at his palm but don’t take it. “Always.” I flex my toes underneath the soapy water. “But in the name of honesty, there are still a few outstanding questions I need you to answer.”
He spreads his hands in front of him. “Anything. I’m an open book. Ask and I will bare all.”
The look on my face must be absolutely feral. “Bare all, you say?”