Chapter 11: Rory Knows

On Monday I sent Richard the first lie of my new life.

Friday. Quiet week. He's busy. All normal.

It was almost true, and I hated how easy it was.

At eleven I went to the stockroom for printer paper and found Rory MacGillivray sitting on a crate eating a sandwich.

"I hid in here when I was fifteen," he said, "and I never grew out of it."

"This is the company's stockroom."

"His father's, technically." He wiped his hands. "Sit down, Tara. I've been meaning to talk to you."

I stayed standing. "About what?"

"About Ember."

The shelf pressed cold against my back.

"I don't know what you mean," I said.

Rory grinned. "I can see why he's lost his mind."

"Does he know you know?"

"Vaughn? God, no. He thinks I'm an idiot." Rory shrugged. "I've known for two years."

"I saw you at the club on my birthday. I know your laugh."

"I thought, that's Vaughn's secretary. And then I thought, I will never tell a soul."

My shoulders lowered.

"Why are you telling me?"

"Because he's in love with you. It's disgusting." He said it cheerfully.

"And because someone's feeding his father his diary."

"I know what it looks like when a person is scared, Tara."

My stomach turned over.

"Rory..."

"I'm not asking." He held up his hands. "I'm not accusing anybody."

"I'm saying that if there's a thing you should tell him, tell him before his father does."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Okay," Rory said, gently. "But I'll be around."

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