Page 91 of False God

And if I tell Theo I’ll be in Saint-Tropez in a few days, he’ll ask why, and I’ll have to lie or draw attention to the truth.

“I get it,” Theo says. “If you change your mind, it’s an open invitation.”

“Open invitation to what?”

I spin as soon as I hear her voice, ridiculously eager to see Lili.

Aside from the white bandage on her left hand, she looks like her usual self. By usual, I mean beautiful. Her silk blouse covers her shoulder, and her thick hair hides the lump on her head.

The rest of her friends are clustered by the reception desk, a huge pile of luggage beside them. They’re checking out. Heading to France.

“I was seeing if Charles wanted to join us in Saint-Tropez,” Theo answers. “Unfortunately, he can’t make it.”

Lili looks disappointed.

I hate that I notice. Care.

So, I speak without thinking. “Not all of us can take weeks off of work.”

It’s one of the—if notthe—worst things I could have said. I know Lili is sensitive about her job and how people perceive it. And I basically just announced I consider my role more important than her career.

Theo chuckles, oblivious to the regret I’m swamped with. “No kidding. I had to work Saturdays for the past two months to get this time off.”

He’s a barrister at a high-powered firm.

“Good luck with your work, Charles.” Lili smiles politely after using my full name—another sure sign she’s pissed. “I’m sure there’s a jousting tournament or two that requires a duke’s attendance.”

Theo says nothing this time, finally clueing in to the tension.

I swallow. “I didn’t mean?—”

“We’re ready to go, Theo,” Lili says, then turns away.

She’s leaving. Leaving the lobby. Leaving England.

And I’m not planning to visit New York before next summer, if then. This could be the last time I see her for another year. For …ever.

Panic surges through me, the sudden force of it debilitating.

“Lili—”

She turns quickly, like she was hoping I’d stop her, but her expression saysFuck off. “What?”

I run my tongue along the backs of my teeth, trying to come up with something to say. Stopping her was an impulse, not a well-thought-out decision. “You should put some ointment on the cuts once they start to scab. They’ll heal faster. Itch less. And if you get a headache or?—”

“If I need medical assistance, I’ll call adoctor.”

I hide the flinch, but the verbal lash stings anyway.

This time, when Lili walks away, I don’t try to stop her.

Theo punches my shoulder lightly. “Made a right mess there, mate,” he says. “Take care.”

I grind my molars, nod, then continue walking toward the lift to head upstairs and pack.

Thanks to traffic, the trip back to Newcastle Hall took close to two hours. I drop my duffel bag and my garment bag—of course my suit showed up this morning, after I no longer needed it—on the floor of my room unceremoniously, along with the laundry sack provided by the hotel. My suit jacket from last night is on the very top. Lili gave it back to me before she headed up to her room last night. I yank it out, studying it. It smells like Chanel perfume.

The matchbox I took from the restaurant is still in the pocket. I move it to the drawer of the small table beside my bed, still not sure why I grabbed it on our way out. I just wanted something I could look at and remember that night, I guess. Some memento that would last.

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