Chapter 23: What Russell Kept

I stayed in the terrace doorway, close enough to hear and far enough to leave.

It was the only way I could stand to watch.

"What do you want?" Hannah said.

Cynthia did not look at her face.

She looked at Hannah's left wrist, where the small crescent showed below the lace cuff.

"I'd like to see it," she said. "Just once, without the room. I've only ever seen it across a table."

Hannah studied her for a while.

Then she pushed the cuff back and held her wrist out into the afternoon light.

Cynthia pushed back her own sleeve.

The two small marks sat side by side, the same shape, the same size, a little darker on Cynthia's.

Cynthia said nothing.

Her shoulders shook once.

"That's all?" Hannah said. "That's the one thing?"

"I thought you'd say no."

"I thought about it."

Hannah drew the cuff back down.

"I don't know what you are to me yet," she said. "I know I'm not going to pretend you're nobody. I'm not ready for Sunday dinners."

"I'm not asking."

"In November, I'll have a coffee with you. One hour. Cedric will drive me, and he'll wait in the car."

"Why November?"

"Because it's not today," Hannah said. "And because I want to find out if I like you."

Cynthia laughed, wetly.

"That's fair," she said. "That's more than fair."

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