Because I know it will breakmewhen the curtain finally falls.
“Hey,” he whispers again, this time with urgency, a flickering of worry. “You okay? You’re trembling.”
Oh God.“I am?”
“Yeah. Are you cold?” His arms close tighter around me, a smothering swathe of heat and protection and intimacy.
Dizziness threatens, a punch-drunk elixir of conflicting emotion. “I’m not cold. I’m…” My words trail off when I feel him stiffen. Tense to stone. I lift my cheek off his chest and glance up with a frown. “Are you okay?”
His eyes are aimed at something across the room. The light is gone, the smile wiped out. Face ashen, eyes glazed over, Lex stares over my head, his arms falling from my back in slow motion.
A shot of panic hits when I watch him turn ghostlike before me. “Lex.”
He doesn’t hear me. Or if he does, he doesn’t show it.
He swallows.
And now he’s the one trembling.
“Lex.” I reach for his hand, give it a squeeze. “Hey. Talk to me. What’s wrong?”
Finally, he blinks away from the scene and glances down at me. “Um…” Another blink. A frazzled headshake. “I…I’ll be right back.”
“Wait—”
He spins away.
With a lump in my throat, I watch him push his way through the crowd, nearly stumbling as he disappears to a far corner of the room outside the restrooms, and I’m not sure if I should follow. A few people watch him go, then glance at me as if I did something.
A moment later, my phone pings from inside my clutch. Flustered, I take a step back and reach inside, fishing it out.
It’s a text. From Lex.
My Christian: She’s here
A chill races down my spine.
Me: Who?
A beat passes, and his bubbles bob and sway.
My Christian: The agent I told you about
I connect the dots in my mind and almost flatline. My pulse revs, blood pumping lava through my veins. Pivoting around, I trail my gaze over to the space he’d been staring at. There are too many people, half of them women.
Me: Which one?
My Christian: Black hair, upper 40s, yellow dress
I spot her instantly—head tipped back with laughter, a cocktail in hand. She looks positively giddy, and all I want to do is tackle her to the ground and claw the smile off her face. Rage bubbles to the surface as I attempt a reply to Lex, nearly dropping the phone.
Me: I’m going to kill her.
My Christian: Please don’t. I just need a minute.
Glancing in the other direction to where Lex paces in front of the restrooms, I watch him thread a hand through his hair, the other wrapped around his phone.
I’m not sure if I should go to him. He’s texting me, which I assume means he doesn’t want to talk. He’s more comfortable writing it down.
