Chapter 18: A Coward in a Good Sweater

Elias's POV

At midnight I was alone in the ballroom, tightening the last bolt on the riser, when Carson walked in.

He had a drink in his hand. His tie was loose and his face was pink.

He crossed the floor and stood at the foot of the stage.

He was looking up at the spot where he would kneel tomorrow.

"Perfect," he said, not to me. "She's good at this. I'll give her that."

I put the wrench down.

"Carson."

"Hey, Eli." He turned and smiled the way he had since we were twelve.

"You look terrible. Are you sleeping at the hotel now?"

"I want to talk to you."

"So talk."

I had practiced it in the truck. It was supposed to be calm and short.

"Tell her yourself," I said. "Tonight. Call her."

"And say what?"

"Tell her about Cass, and the money, and the napkins. Give it back, and say you're sorry to her face."

"Or what?"

"Or I do it tomorrow, in front of your boss."

Carson laughed. It was a real laugh, easy and surprised.

"You? You sat on this for nine months."

He swirled the ice in his glass.

"You had a hundred chances to be the hero, and you ate her mother's Easter ham instead."

"I know what I did."

"Do you? Because I'm not sure you do."

He took a sip of his drink.

"You never told her, Eli, because you wanted her to find out later. You wanted her broken and alone, so you could be the one who picked her up."

The room went very quiet.

"That's not why."

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