Chapter 5: After the Wedding

The roof of my mother's house is a flat square of tar with a low brick wall and two dead tomato planters.

I climbed out through the hatch at ten past nine.

Rhys was at the wall with his jacket off and his back to me, looking at the lights of the avenue.

"You said ten minutes," I said. "It's been twelve."

"I was counting."

He turned around.

In the dark his face was harder to read than it had been in the lamp light of eleven-twelve.

"I owe you an apology," he said.

"For what? You made Spencer take his hand off my chair."

"For that. And for the soup."

"What about the soup?"

"I didn't eat it." He almost smiled. "I was thinking about your ankle."

I felt that low in my stomach.

I crossed the roof and stopped one step away from him.

"You touched it on purpose."

"I did."

"With Hugh sitting at the head of the table."

"Yes."

"That is a terrible way to keep a secret, Mr. Mercer."

"I'm aware, Miss Cadwalader."

The wind lifted my hair and he reached out to catch it.

His fingers stayed against my cheek, and I stepped close enough that one of his legs was between mine, my skirt tight across it.

I hadn't known standing still could do that.

"Rhys," I said.

"I know."

His other hand came to my waist and drew me in until my chest was against his shirt.

I could feel his heart going hard.

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