Page 16 of The Escape Plan

When she broke up with me, I think she wanted me to fight for our relationship. But I couldn’t rise to the occasion. She called me a selfish dope and a spineless eejit and much, much worse. I hated to see her in pain, hated to see how my actions—or lack thereof—were affecting her. Though I wanted to have her by my side, deep down, I knew she deserved much more, much better, than what I was able to give her at the time.

I’d done the right thing by her, letting her go. I imagined Gran looking down from heaven with a wry smile and a word of advice: “Sure there’s a lid for every pot, Beckett. And Roisin? She wasn’t your lid.”

Since then, I’ve not had much desire to pursue another relationship. I’ve also decided that I’d rather be alone than be an unfit partner to someone.

“I should get going,” I say, sensing that it’s time I make my exit and give Keeley time and space alone to talk to her brother. “Nice to meet you, Ezra.” I nod at him, then can’t help but give Keeley a little wink. “And Keeley, a pleasure, as always.”

“Meeting someone twice does not constitute the use of ‘always,’” she replies, her tone still a little tart, but I swear I see her lips twitch. Like she might possiblyenjoya little verbal sparring.

Glad that I might have brightened her mood even just a little, I head out the door of Blue Notes. It’s only when I’m outside that I remember my Americano, sitting untouched on a shelf inside the store.

I don’t want to interrupt Keeley and her brother, so I cut my losses, and instead of continuing my walk, head back in the direction of The Serendipity.

Maybe I could go for a swim. Because if the conversation about geriatric aquarobics earlier is anything to go by, apparently there’s a swimming pool in my new apartment complex.

Imagine that, back in Ireland. Unheard of. If you want to get wet back home, just go for a walk because it’s always raining.

A swim in the sunshine sounds like exactly the sort of thing I should be doing during my time here.

But by the time I’m back in my apartment, the thought of going for a swim is exhausting. The jet lag is weighing heavy on me, and I didn’t get to consume the necessary caffeine I purchased. And so, against my better judgment, I find myself curling up on the couch under the window and letting myself be pulled into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Chapter Six

Keeley

Footsteps.

So many footsteps.

Two sets of them. Andrew’s heavier thudding tread, and Lisa’s lighter, clicking steps, like she’s donned a pair of heels and is putting on a catwalk show in Andrew’s living room.

The thuds and clicks have been on an endless loop for what feels like hours. And with each step, the sound seems to grow louder, echoing through my mind in a plodding pattern that taunts, “Her and him. Him and her. Them, up there, together.”

A thud, then a bang. A giggle. A tap-tap-tap. Another thud.

Seriously. What are they doing up there, herding elephants? Moving furniture? Dancing the tarantella?

“Ughhhhh,” I grumble as I roll over in bed, shoving the thin sheet off me as I go.

No, Craig never came back to look at my AC, and yes, it’s still a million and one degrees in here.

I check my phone and discover that it’s one o’clock in the morning. So much for crawling into bed early to get some so-called “beauty sleep” after this trainwreck of a day. Sleeping has been an entirely fruitless activity so far. After I went to bed, I spent an hour scouring the Evoke website, reading all the new content I could find, before turning off my light so I could lie awake and listen to the racket upstairs.

“So thoughtful of you both,” I address the ceiling as I remove myself from my sticky-hot bed. I strip out of my oversized pajama shirt and change into a purple tank top, then plod to the bathroom.

Sissy was right,I decide as I look in the mirror. I’m a hot mess right now. Literally.

I scrape my hair into a bun on the top of my head, then root around in the drawer until I find one of those sheet masks that Mae, Ezra’s wife, brought back for me on her last trip to Korea.

I smooth the serum-soaked white sheet over my face, reveling in the cool feeling against my skin. Then, I climb onto my makeshift desk in the living room, open the window, and duck out onto the fire escape.

My apartment doesn’t have a balcony, but The Serendipity has one of those metal fire escapes that runs the length of the building. It’s become one of my favorite places to sit when I can’t sleep.

Tonight, though, it feels like more than just a nice place to sit. It’s a total godsend. A necessary escape from the parade of elephants on my ceiling, taunting me.

I sink to a seat on the metal, pressing my back against the red brick of the building. It’s quiet here and cooler than inside my place.

Below, the streets are calm and dark and quiet. Above, there’s a sprinkling of stars in the velvet black sky.

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