Page 68 of The Liar's Reckoning

“Yeah. That and this,” he says as he pushes open the door and the icy air blows into the warm lobby.

“You’re good at it,” I tell him. “At all your jobs.”

His laugh is short and abrupt. “You know you’re the only person besides my ex who knows about all three of them.”

“Have you seen him again?” I can’t help but ask.

“No. Or maybe I should say not yet. I don’t really know what’s happening.”

I don’t know what to say to that. I face the blustery wind. “Yep. Feels exactly like twenty-seven degrees.”

“You sure you wanna go out there?”

I think about what’s waiting for me upstairs. I also think about the man standing in front of me and how everything I wasn’t feeling with Avery is now about to bubble over inside of me. Distinct, focused lust. Longing. Aching.Want.

Followed rapidly by crushing unease and guilt. “Yeah.” Without another word, I go, setting a brisk pace on the sidewalk. A few blocks later, I’m convinced this is the most miserable I’ve ever been. The phrase “living a lie” has never rung truer. And my marriage of convenience doesn’t feel nearly so convenient anymore.

I walk about ten blocks until my fingers are so cold, nothing short of holding them over a fire would warm them, and I double back. My head isn’t clear. If anything, it’s more clutteredandfrozen.

Silas looks relieved to see me, something slightly resembling a smile twitching up a corner of his mouth. “Learn your lesson, Senator?”

“I did. Yeah.”

“My offer from before still stands, you know?” he asks as I press the button to call the elevator.

“Which—?” And then I remember.Any time. “Oh.”

“I’ll take that as a no thanks.”

We’re speaking around a corner. I can’t even see him from where I’m standing. “It’s not a no,” I whisper, hating myself. It’s not loud enough for him to hear. I’ll be so much better off leaving him with an assumed no. But when the elevator fails to appear, and the silence stretches out like a rubber band about to snap, I say it louder. “It’s not a no.”

Half a second later, the elevator door opens, too late to save me from myself.

He’d toldme I could text him any time, but he beats me to it. Silas’s text comes at five a.m. Thursday, the week before Thanksgiving, which is later in the month this year. I’m awake already, or again. Another restless night nearly behind me. Avery isn’t here—or at least not in my bed. She went out with friends last night, and from what I could hear, she went straight to bed in her own room afterward.

Silas

Can I see you?

My heart lurches at the words on the screen.

Me

When?

Silas

I can meet you. Please?

The texts surprise me. They’re vulnerable, and it’s not Silas’s vibe at all. It almost feels like a trap, but I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Me

Can you get to the Chelsea apartment or do you need an address?

Silas

I’m already here.

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