Chapter 7: Not in the Terms

Trevor let go.

He didn't do it because he wanted to.

He did it because Nolan's grip had turned his knuckles white.

He did it because a woman's voice outside had just called, "Is everything all right in there?"

Nolan didn't answer her.

He stood between us in the doorway, taller than Trevor by an inch and perfectly calm.

"Mrs. Colfax is leaving," he said. "I'll see that she gets home."

"She's my wife."

"Then you should have treated her like one."

"I'm taking her home," Trevor said to me, his eyes burning. "Jo. Come on."

I rubbed my wrist.

The skin was already going red in the shape of his fingers.

"I'm taking a cab," I said. "Go back to the party, Trevor. Smile. People are watching."

He did, in the end.

He wiped his face and fixed his jacket.

Then he went back toward the ballroom with that bright, easy grin.

I watched him go, and my whole body began to shake.

"My car's at the curb," Nolan said.

I didn't remember the elevator, or the valet, or the blanket of city lights going by.

I remembered Nolan's hands on the wheel at ten and two.

I remembered the silence, which wasn't uncomfortable.

I remembered how he turned left at the light, toward Hampden, without asking.

Our street was narrow, lined with brick rowhouses and parked cars.

Trevor's truck was already in front of ours.

The engine was running and the headlights were off.

There was a shape in the driver's seat, and a small red glow where a phone sat against the wheel.

He had left the party, and he'd gotten here before us.

Nolan slowed and didn't stop.

"Not tonight," he said.

"I live there."

"I know."

"I'm not scared of him."

"I am," Nolan said, quietly. "A little. So humor me."

He turned the car at the next corner and drove east.

I should have said no.

I should have said I'd stay at Sonya's, which was ten minutes the other way.

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