Page 141 of One Touch

“You’re reading romance again. That means you’re ready to move on. This is very good news, Lily.”

“It’s not. It means I can’t move on. I can’t get Ethan McCoy out of my head.”

Mary-Beth rolled her eyes. “Then tell him. Please, tell him.”

“No. I already did. He didn’t feel the same. I just need time.”

“Time . . . and drink. We’ll have fun tonight. Promise.”

I blinked rapidly, fighting back tears as memories flooded my mind. Ava’s laughter as we baked pancakes together. The pride in Ethan’s eyes when I helped her with her reading. The warmth of his hand on my back as we looked up at the night sky.

A bird. A deer. A shooting star.

None of it meant anything.

***

One murder. Two dismemberments. Three ominous prophecies. Seventeen creaky floorboards. That was the rest of my afternoon. Having been caught reading romance by Mary-Beth, I forced myself to get back to the horror, keeping a tally of gore to try and make it more fun.

It didn’t really help.

Before I left work, I went to the bathroom to adjust my makeup. As I looked at my face, eyes dark from exhaustion, skin pale from being inside all day, lips turned down at the corners— a memory hit me like a punch to the gut.

Ethan had just kissed me. We were about to take things further when the fire station had called him in.

He looked at me like was drinking me in.

“I never want to forget how you look, and how I feel.”

“How do you feel?”

“Alive.”

The person saw in the mirror didn’t look alive. She looked numb.

The early summer heat was sweltering as I navigated rush hour traffic to Lucille’s Apothecary. Without Bluehaven’s sea breeze, the city felt suffocating. After a stuffy subway ride and a short walk, I arrived at the swanky high-rise, my heels clicking on polished marble as I made my way to the rooftop bar.

Despite my foul mood, I couldn’t help but gasp when I saw the place. The entire rooftop was encased in a glass dome, creating a greenhouse effect that allowed exotic plants to thrive in the heart of Manhattan. Massive ferns cascaded from hanging baskets, their fronds swaying gently in the climate-controlled air. Vines with heart-shaped leaves climbed ornate trellises, weaving between tables and around support beams. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and tropical flowers, a stark contrast to the car exhaust and hot asphalt I’d left behind on the street.

But the more I looked around, the more artificial it all felt. All this effort, just to create a semblance of nature. The urge to feel real sand between my toes, to breathe in the salty Bluehaven air, was stronger than ever.

“Lily! Over here!” Mary-Beth waved from a sleek table near the edge of the roof.

I plastered on a smile and made my way over. “Hey, MB. This place is . . . something else.”

“It’s like a rainforest.”

“Encased in a bubble. With a . . . steampunk vibe?”

The bartenders definitely leaned into the steampunk aesthetic. They wore crisp white shirts with brass-buttoned waistcoats andgoggles perched on their foreheads. Copper pipes snaked behind the bar, connecting to various brass taps and valves.

“Yeah. Rainforest meets steampunk on a balcony in Manhattan. I swear this city has it all.”

A waiter materialized beside us, his approach silent on the moss-covered floor. “What can I get for you ladies?”

Mary-Beth’s eyes sparkled. “We’re celebrating, so we’re going to need something fancy. I’ll have the Midnight in Manhattan. That’s the one with edible gold leaf, right?”

“That’s correct, ma’am.”

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