Chapter 10: Partners, You Said

He didn't drive to the hotel.

He drove to a narrow brick house on Beacon Hill with a green door, and he told me it was his mother's, and that he had kept the key for six years.

The hall was dark and smelled of cold wood and lemon polish.

The first thing he did was put the forged page in a drawer and lock it.

The second thing he did was turn around.

"Terms," he said.

"I wrote them."

"You did." His voice had gone low and unsteady. "You said no more nights."

"I did."

"I'm asking you to take it back, because I can't be the one who does."

I looked at him.

He stood with his back to the drawer and his hands at his sides, not touching me, a foot of air between us.

"Partners," I said. "Is that what you want?"

"No."

"What do you want?"

"I want you," said Costa. "I've wanted you since you put a ring in a glass of soda and didn't look back."

My heart was beating very hard.

"Then take it," I said. "Take me back. I don't want terms."

He crossed the foot between us in one step.

He kissed me against the wall, and it was nothing like the first time.

The first time had been need.

This was slow and deliberate, and he held my face in both hands.

"Partners, you said," he murmured against my mouth.

"Shut up."

"I'm only quoting you."

"I'm taking it back," I said, and bit his lip.

He laughed, deep in his chest, and then he stopped laughing.

He took me upstairs by the hand.

The bedroom was small and plain, with a window over the roofs of the hill and a quilt on the bed.

He turned me to face the glass and stood behind me.

His hands found the zipper of the green dress, and he drew it down slowly, one tooth at a time, while his mouth followed down my spine.

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