Page 21 of A Sin So Pure

Nora steps from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel that does nothing to cover her lean legs. She spots her clothes laid out on the bed and her brows furrow.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she says.

I shrug, watching as she tosses the towel into the hamper and pulls on her clothes. Everything is a shade of black or white; cream undergarments that match her skin, a white blouse, and black pants. I imagine her closet is completely devoid of color, though I’d love to one day find out.

We never go back to her place.

My stomach twists. It’s a yearning that I’ve been battling more and more often when it comes to the woman before me.

Finally, Nora pulls on her jacket. When she smooths down the front, patting her pockets, she pauses. Her observant eyes scan the floor in one slow swoop, the line between her brows deepening.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

“I’m fine.”

She does another pass around the room before scratching her head.

“Actually,” she says, slowly. “I had a new product sample.” She holds her fingers apart. “A flask about yay big. I didn’t take it out last night, did I?”

My tongue turns to cotton in my mouth, but the lie still slips over my tongue with ease.

“Not that I remember. We did drink a lot.”

Nora lets loose a snort.

“That we did.” She visibly shakes away her confusion. “I must have left it at the warehouse.”

She walks to me, reaching out with a now-gloved hand. It grazes over my cheek, a tender touch goodbye, though, her eyes beget no emotion.

Any cracks I might have made in that fortress of hers last night are now repaired and sealed.

The yearning in my gut spoils into hurt.

“You know that you can stay,” I offer.

“I can’t.”

“Can’t or don’t want to?”

“I have things that need to be done before the Sins meeting.”

I sigh, turning to my vanity. I busy my hands with my makeup again, putting each tin of rogue and mascara in its rightful place this time.

Nora’s eyes meet mine in the mirror, a thin line spearing down the center of her brows. If I could sense what she’s feeling, understand why she needs to run from me, then maybe I could choose the right words to convince her to stay.

“We can do something after,” Nora says.

She crouches down and presses a kiss to my cheek.

Then she’s out the door. And not once does she look back.

We’re going over architectural plans for a new bar in the eastern block when Leo gives methe lookfor the third time.

My eyes flick from him back to the papers and then to the backbar. After Nora left, I had fished the tonic from under my bed and tucked it there, hidden between bottles of liquor. I’ve been stewing about it ever since.

Do I bring it up to her? Say I found it under the bed when I was cleaning and act none the wiser?

Do I ignore it completely? Dump it down the drain and toss the bottle in the trash and hope it’s not something important?

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