“Yeah?” I glance at her as she picks at the fringing of her dress.
“I really am sorry about your bathroom. Whatever it costs to fix, take the money out of my first week.” A flicker of shame crosses over her face. “Please.”
My brows bend. “Stop doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Falling on the sword. Every damn time.”
Heaviness swells between us, a mountain of it. Her eyes film over, and I don’t want to think about where she just went. Back to that night: bloodstained snow, shattered glass, twisted metal, and me, draped over her broken body, promising her she’d be okay.
I blink away the images, telling my old ghosts to fuck off.
Stevie breaks through the tension. “I mean, it was my fault you were driving my car in the first place.”
“I fell asleep behind the wheel.”
“I screwed up the interview with Starline.”
“I dragged you out here.”
“And your bathroom?”
I go to speak, but I’ve got nothing. A small smile twitches on my mouth. “It was due for a cleaning.”
She softens, the shadows in her eyes lifting.
Before I turn to leave, I add, “Come downstairs and eat.”
Back at the island, I’m still holding on to the barest smile.
And it only grows wings when I hear her footsteps padding down the staircase.
Chapter 27
Stevie
I step into the photography studio the next day, my hand wrapped around the underside of Lex’s elbow. The space is stark, filled with camera equipment, backdrops, and a slew of people running around, taking orders.
“Lexington!” Billy Ellison approaches with a shock of light-blond hair. He’s dressed to the nines in a velvet blazer the color of nectarines, paired with an emerald silk shirt. His pants are perfectly tailored, and his shoes—glossy patent leather with a gold buckle—click dramatically against the floor as he strides toward us. “And Stevie. Such an honor to work with you today.”
I glance at the peacock feather tucked into his pocket square. “Thank you. We’re both excited to be here.”
“The interwebs are buzzing about you two. I had to shoot my shot—pun intended.” He grins, his teeth whiter than snow. “Lex is my favorite guinea pig, but don’t tell the others.” Waving an animated hand at us, he swivels around and approaches a sleek tripod, topped with a camera that likely costs more than my entire apartment building. “Have you ever done a professional photo shoot before, Stevie?”
“Do my yearbook photos count?”
“Ah. Well, Ava is a master at posing. She’ll make sure you’re comfortable and prepared.”
My nails dig into Lex’s arm. “Sounds great.”
Lex places his hand on my lower back, his fingertips hovering an inch above my backside, and for a moment, it catches me off guard. The intimate touches, the heated looks. He’s so damn good at what he does.
“You good?” He bends down, murmuring against my ear. “Need any water?”
I manage a headshake. “Just a little nervous.”
“Because of me or the pictures?”
