Page 47 of Sapphire Tears

I suppose, from the outside, we look exactly like that.

If only he knew how fucked-up everything looks from the inside.

“Desmond,” I say, “thank you for the tour. I can take it from here.”

He gives me a knowing smile, bows, and leaves us alone in the ballroom, pulling the doors closed behind him. I doubt June even notices him leaving. She’s too focused on the mirrors.

“Makes you feel infinite, doesn’t it?” she breathes giddily.

“No,” I say. “It’s just a cheap trick.”

She sobers a little and turns to me. “Are you trying to restore the hotel for her?”

I cringe at her perceptiveness. “It’s not for her,” I demur. “My mother never gave me any indication that she wanted to come back here. And even if she did, there’s nothing to find. She’s gone. Long gone. So is the place she loved.”

June inches towards me, unable to fight her deepest nature. In that way, too, June reminds me of my mother. They were both natural-born caretakers, instinctive comforters. They both thought they could fix what was broken.

They were both wrong.

“What kind of stories did she tell you about this place?” June asks.

I smile. “Well, for one, she told me that the hotel was haunted.”

“Haunted? Stop messing with me.”

I nod solemnly. “She said that when the hotel first opened, over a century ago, the first guest who ever stayed here ended up dying in his bed. Apparently, the hotel staff didn’t want the bad press, so they tried to handle it as quietly as possible. When they discovered that the gentleman didn’t have a home, or any family to speak of, they decided to bury him on the property. Then, over the years, other guests started reporting hearing things in the night. The thump and drag of a dead man searching for a way out. The statue in the fountain out front is him, actually. Or so they tell me.”

She frowns. “You seemed to like telling that story a little too much,” she accuses with a half-laugh.

I smirk back at her. “I do like ghost stories. You of all people should appreciate that life doesn’t always end at death.”

21

JUNE

My room is beautiful. It overlooks both pools on the property, though neither one is currently in use. Something about the moss covering the drained concrete caverns is breathtaking in its own way.

The decor feels drenched in history, if that’s something decor can be. The filigreed edges on the curtains, the graceful arc of the lampshades—all of it says that someone poured their love into the finest details.

I also laughed out loud when I opened the mini-fridge and found it stocked full of lemon soda.

And yet I feel lonely.

I’ve felt lonely since the moment Kolya showed me to my room and then shut the door between us. It’s not like I was expecting us to share a room. But I guess I just wasn’t ready to be left on my own, either.

I make sure the door is locked before I start to unpack. My phone is tucked into the side pocket of my suitcase. I didn’t carry it on me just in case Adrian happened to send me another text message while Kolya was watching.

Now that I’m sure I’m alone, though, I pull it out and open up the conversation. He’s sent a dozen messages or more in the last day or two. They’re all variations on the same theme.

ADRIAN:Don’t trust him, June. He’s not who he claims to be and I’m going to find the evidence to prove it. Stay strong and I’ll come back for you. I swear it.

I don’t know how to feel about it, so I’m trying all my emotions on for size. Shock, dread, hope, fear. Every time I convince myself of one thing, there’s Adrian or Kolya coming charging in to convince me of the exact opposite.

I close the thread and put the phone away.

Then I spend hours in bed, thinking about Kolya and his mother. About all the things he’d shared with me that Adrian never had.

I don’t know who I should believe.

---