Chapter 7: Envelope

I went to the window in Ashton's shirt and looked down at the street.

Corbin's white pickup sat at the curb with the engine running.

He was in the driver's seat, both hands on the wheel, staring at my building.

Behind me, Ashton propped himself on one elbow, hair wrecked.

"Is that him?" he said.

"That's him."

"Do you want me to go down?"

"No."

"Do you want me to stay up here?"

"I want you to put on pants," I said. "Then stay."

He laughed, and then he did what I said.

I took my phone, my keys and the cardigan off the chair, and went down alone.

The air smelled like wet pavement and somebody's laundry.

Corbin got out of the truck as I came through the door.

He looked terrible.

His collar was open, his eyes were red, and he held a thick envelope in both hands.

"Maeve," he said. "Thank God."

"It's six in the morning."

"I didn't sleep."

"Good."

"Please just listen.

"Lila is furious with me.

"She says I have to fix this, or the wedding is off.

"I got you this."

He held out the envelope.

It was fat, with a bank band around the cash inside.

"What is it?"

"Twenty thousand.

"It's a start, okay? It's a good-faith thing.

"And all I'm asking is that you stop.

"Stop posting, stop the interviews, stop making her look bad."

"I haven't posted anything."

"Then stop whatever you're about to."

I looked at the envelope.

I looked at the face of a man I'd lived with for five years and found I couldn't remember what I'd loved about it.

"I don't want it," I said.

"Take it.

"You said Friday.

"This is Friday, in advance."

"I said Friday in front of two hundred people," I said. "I didn't say take a bribe in an alley."

"It's not a bribe."

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