Page 74 of Verses Of Us

“You wouldn’t need to go far. I’m downstairs.”

She looked at the floor as if she could see through it. “Downstairs?”

“At the bar.”

“What bar?”

“Your hotel bar.”

Strangle her.That’s what she’d do the next time she saw Julie. “She told you where I was staying?”

His laugh, though warm like molasses, did nothing to lighten her mood and her lips remained pursed. She looked in the mirror and didn’t like what she saw—anger clawing up from deep inside.

“One drink. That’s all,” he said.

“That won’t happen.”

“It might help you sleep.”

“Ciarán…”

“Fine, then. I’ll have to come up.”

“You don’t know which room I’m—” She stopped. Though Julie told him which hotel she was staying at, she doubted her friend would share her room number. “Wait, do you?”

After a pause he said, “No, I don’t.” She exhaled softly with relief. “But I’m sure the lady at the counter wouldn’t refuse a celebrity.”

She heard his arrogance, knew he was doing it on purpose, but still wondered if he’d use his fame for something like this. She couldn’t recall him using his name to get into places before. Or maybe she had been too young, too lost in his presence, to have seen him take advantage of who he was.

“I suppose I could start banging on all the doors, wake the whole damn place up.”

“You would do that, wouldn’t you?” She could see it so clear—Ciarán running through the halls, screaming her name. The image brought a soft smile to her face, but she chased it away.

“Lex, one drink. That’s all I’m asking for. I need to see you. To talk to you.” She glanced at the clock and bit her lip. “Hell, I’ll even pay for it,” he added with a light laugh.

There was no use fighting her insomnia and sleep would be impossible, knowing he was only a few flights down. The longer she stayed locked in her room overthinking it, the worse it would get.

Every ounce of her yelled that this was a horrible idea. She could still remember the hurt, the regrets. She knew better.

“I’ll be down in ten. Order me a Bloody Mary.”

Did she wash her face and put on makeup? Yes, she did. Did she tie her hair up into a tight ponytail because she didn’t wish to waste time straightening it? Also, yes. After all, this might just be a midnight drink with an old flame, one she had never gotten over, and though she had no desire to do anything other than talk, that didn’t mean she’d walk in there looking like she’d rolled out of bed.

When she stepped into the elevator, her heart wouldn’t stop racing, and her palms grew sweaty. Lightheaded, she blamed it on exhaustion.

Downstair, the place was empty except for a young couple sitting at a table, eating, and Ciarán at the bar, nursing a drink, his shoulders hunched. The minute she spotted him, her heart stopped, and she exhaled a quick, harsh breath to force it into its regular rhythm again. Then she walked over.

“Is this seat taken?” she asked, pointing to the stool beside him.

A row of a dozen empty barstools lined the bar. She figured starting with a joke would ease her tension. It didn’t.

He glanced up, smiling that charming smile she’d missed so much. “You came.”

“What, you didn’t think I would?” She sat down and the bartender placed a Bloody Mary in front of her.

Ciarán shook his head and half-turned, resting his elbow on the bar.

“No, I didn’t,” he answered earnestly.

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