Page 52 of Lair

I bite my lip, cringing inside. “Something like that.”

“My God. Where are you now?”

“Back to the Med, I think?”

“Back?”

“Well, he took me to see the Northern Lights...”

Uproarious laughter. “Okay, okay. I’m starting to like him.”

I can’t help but grin as I pace Adrian’s suite. Again, he’d said good night at the door, like some gentleman caller in an old story, knowing he shouldn’t push it. And again, I can’t get my thoughts off him.

Cailee finally gets her laughter under control. “Sooo, did he confess his dark secret to you?”

My throat goes dry. “Um, yeah. He did.”

“And?”

“He, uh...” I put a hand to my brow. What to tell her? “It’s complicated.”

But somehow she senses it anyway. “He’s violent, isn’t he?”

A long, brittle silence. Cailee sighs. “Babe...”

“Okay, he is, but... not the way you think.”

“So he’s just another Josh, then.” Her voice has gone flat. “What are you doing?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh, is that right?” she flares in that tone of hers that means she has a hand on her hip.

After a moment, she softens. “Has he hurt you?”

“No,” I snap, feeling small and cornered. “And he won’t.”

“What, you’re gonna change him?”

I stop. “What?”

“Arie, you can’t change him.”

Change him. The idea unfurls in my brain like a storm, outrageous and unbidden, and I sink onto the edge of the bed as I think of how people do that, in ordinary relationships with all of their extraordinary mysteries. And how one would do that with Adrian Voper.

TWENTY-EIGHT

There’s a lot to consider.

As we head back to the warm waters of the Med, Adrian’s many particularities become apparent. His clothing can only be washed in the best mineral water. He likes to read printed news, not digital, so it’s a common sight to see the stewardesses ironing newspapers in the morning. He also likes blueberries when he first gets up, so each one has to be dipped in mineral water and buffed with silk until it shines.

No direct criticism for me, but subtle corrections. This silverware must be used before that silverware.

One day he plucks a blueberry from a fruit bowl, and promptly fires the stewardess on the spot.

There are times when I am so happy after our encounters—dazzled and safe—that I find it hard to breathe. Other times I lie in bed like a stone, eyes welling because of a perceived disappointment, or some offhand comment that had cut me to the core.

You don’t have to chew so loudly.

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