Page 227 of The Liar's Reckoning

“I feel like I need to see him,” I say without looking up from my phone. It’s like a distress call coming from uptown Manhattan demanding I follow it to its source. I feel it like a taut pull in my chest.

I zoom in on the map, wondering if it can show me his exact location. While it won’t give me the street address, it looks easy enough to figure out if I can get myself to the neighborhood. “You guys look like you could use the time alone anyway,” I add.

Drew reaches out and puts a hand on my arm. “Let me come over and help you pack up when you leave, all right? Moving’s a pain in the ass.”

I look up at him and give him a grin. “Okay. I’ll let you know when I get the date nailed down.”

After I order a ride, they walk me to the door, and we hug. I ruffle Olivier’s hair because I can, and I want to know if those curls are as soft as they look. They’re softer. He laughs before burying his flushed face in Drew’s neck.

Drew pulls him close and opens the door for me. “Answer my fucking texts,” he says.

I nod as I step outside. “I will.”

My Lyft pulls up, and I get in. I text Graham.

Me

Stay where you are. I’m on my way.

The doorman takesone look at me, stands up, walks me to the elevator and says, “Eight-twelve.”

I must be in the right place. “Thanks.”

He goes into the mailroom and returns with two padded envelopes from Amazon. “You mind taking these up?”

I almost laugh, but I’m too anxious about what I might be walking into. “No problem.” One of the many differences between the East and West side apparently.

In the elevator, I check out the packages, both addressed to Theresa Lawther. Out of habit and nervousness, I feel the packages, playing a guessing game as to what’s inside, but my brain isn’t cooperating with my hands. I’m worried.

My first impression of Graham when he answers the door is he looks okay. He’s changed into comfortable clothes, joggers and a t-shirt, all black except for his bright white socks. I hand him the packages, and he frowns down at them. He shakes his head, realizing what they are. “That guy is so lazy.”

“I’d call it efficient.”

“What are you doing here?” he asks, like we didn’t text about this.

“I have a better question. What the hell areyoudoing here?”

“Oh.” He puts a hand on my chest, directly over my heart. “You. I wanted to see you. You weren’t home, though.”

“I was at Drew’s.”

“Brooklyn. Yeah. I saw that.”

“Stalker.”

“Old habits.”

“Why’d you want to see me?” I ask. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I don’t know.”

A woman with dark, curly hair and emerald green eyes thatare even more striking than Graham’s approaches us. “Silas, I hope?” She holds out her hand.

“Hi, Theresa,” I say, shaking it.

She smiles. “He told you about me?” Theresa gives her brother’s back a rub. “I’m honored! Why are you guys just standing here? Come in. I’ll go watch a movie with the kids in my room.”

“You don’t have to. I have my own room,” Graham grumbles as he hands her the packages.

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