Chapter 28: Sign Here

Rory fell asleep at nine, in Ansel's mother's room next door, with the loupe still on its cord around his neck.

I closed her door softly and stood in the corridor with my hand flat against the wood.

Lachlan was at the end of the hall, holding the empty cake box.

He had stayed to carry plates, and fold chairs, and sweep frosting off the carpet on his knees.

Nobody had asked him to.

"I'll take this down to the kitchen," he said. "Then I'll go."

"Leave the box."

He set it on the floor.

"My suite is the last door," I said.

He did not move.

"You told me not yet," he said. "In the hall. When Rory was sick."

"That was before the Showcase."

"I'm not asking for anything tonight."

"I know you aren't." I took the key card out of my pocket. "That's why."

I walked down the corridor, and I heard him follow.

Inside, I did not turn on the lamp.

The city lay in the window, and I stood with my back to it and pulled the pins from my hair one at a time.

He stood by the door with his hands at his sides.

"You always did serve papers at the end of the evening," I said.

I took a sheet of hotel paper from the desk and put it in his hand.

On it I had written one line, in my own hand, that afternoon.

Tonight, you do as you're told.

He read it.

His throat moved.

"Sign it," I said.

He found the pen on the desk and signed his name under my line with a hand that wasn't quite steady.

I took the paper from him and dropped it on the floor.

Then I took his face in both my hands and kissed him.

He made a low sound against my mouth.

He tasted like coffee and frosting, and his hands came up to my waist and stopped there, shaking.

"Touch me," I said.

His palms slid up my back to the zipper of my dress, and he drew it down slowly, one tooth at a time.

The silk fell to my feet.

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