Page 58 of Cuts Like An Angel: Part 3

William cut a forkful of batter and sausage off his meal. “It isn’t. She’s fine.”

“But she might …”

It was his turn to frown at her. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Was she? She didn’t know. Was anything okay these days. She’d told herself the Sam thing didn’t bother her, but in her mind, all the time, Sam was there like an echo. It was crazy. She didn’t even know her. She was dead, yet here Rosie was suspecting him with his calls … what was he doing? Talking to the dead? “I’m okay,” she said. “Why?”

“Well, you don’t normally give me twenty questions.”

Heat prickled along her skin with his words like he’d thrown them at her, and they were tiny ants to bite along her flesh. “I didn’t realise I was. I was just asking.” She did glance at Mark then. He was tucking into his dinner, but his eyes met hers and she knew what he was thinking. Silly jealous American woman, or American Whore as Maria liked to say. “I’m just going to nip to the bathroom.” She’d hardly touched her food. When she did try, it tasted like cardboard in her mouth, tasteless and hard to swallow, or maybe that was just everything going on around her—a sensory mirror to the evening. It wasn’t meant to be like this. This was meant to be fun. “Which way are they?”

She went to walk the way William had come from, but Mark shook his head. “The bathrooms are upstairs at the back. Go to the bar, walk around it to the right and you’ll see a sign.”

She didn’t kiss William when she went. The bathrooms were where Mark had said. Next to the bar there was a door that led to carpeted stairs. She walked up them and found herself on a balcony looking down across the restaurant. The place was packed. People filled every corner, every table. Some even stood by the door with drinks in their hands as if they might be waiting for a table. Mark and William were talking and eating. The waitress had brought them new drinks.

If William had another, he was at the limit.

In the ladies’ room, she did what was needed, including giving herself a good talking to, but then as she made her way down the stairs, and back into the bar, she didn’t go back to William and Mark. She walked the opposite way so she could weave her way around people and to the front doors. It was impossible to do so without being seen if either Mark or William were to look up, but neither of them did.

“Excuse me,” she said to one of the bar staff. “Can you tell me where the bathrooms are.”

“Sure. They’re through that door.” She pointed the way Rosie had just come from.

“There aren’t any downstairs?”

“No. Just those. There’s a lift around the back of the stairs if you need …”

“No. And the men’s? They’re up there?”

The young woman frowned at Rosie but nodded. “The only bathrooms we have are upstairs.”

“Thank you.”

By the time she got back to the table, she was trembling. Her legs were like jelly and her stomach was about to do somersaults. Her skin had gone cold, even though she was hot. She was an idiot … such a fool.

“Are you okay?” Mark asked when he saw her.

“Rosie?” William said.

“I … er …” She covered her face with her hand, took in a breath to give herself strength and then looked back at the two worried faces glancing her way. “Would it be okay to go home? I don’t feel so good.”

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