Chapter 8: If You Remember

I walked out of the mill without my coat.

The cold hit me on the front steps, and I stood in it and breathed.

Behind me the doors opened and closed, and no one followed.

Blair's last sentence was still in my ears: a detective was asking who held the garage footage for 12 March.

Roland had gone gray when he heard it, and I wanted to see that footage before he did.

Erik's truck was at the end of the drive with its lights off.

He got out as soon as he saw me and took off his jacket on the way.

"I didn't text," I said.

"I saw you come out." He put the jacket around my shoulders. "That's better than a letter."

"I told them I'm filing for divorce."

"Good."

"I told the whole table."

"Even better."

The valets were ten feet away, pretending not to listen.

Erik stood close, with his hands at his sides, and kept his voice low.

"I'll tell you what I'm not doing right now," he said. "I'm not touching you, because you've had a night."

"I know."

"The day you can eat a whole dinner and sleep through, I'm taking you to bed. I'm not letting you out of it until you ask."

I stared at him.

My heart was going so hard that I felt it in my fingers.

"You said that where the valets can hear," I said.

"I know."

"Why?"

"Because nothing can happen in a parking lot," he said. "It's safe to say."

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