I decided I’d miss the naked French woman preparing for a bath most. Almost enough to ask for her as a keepsake, but I supposed that would defeat the purpose of my plans.
I memorized the row of paintings in Zach’s office as a doctor tended to my nonexistent wounds. The real wounds couldn’t be cured with a stethoscope and first aid kit.
I needed time, but I’d heal.
I knew I would.
Zach orbited around us, fussing over every burgeoning bruise as if I’d picked a fight with a honey badger.
“She’s fine. A little scratched up.” Dr. Sullivan set down his cotton swab. “Nothing major.” He paused a beat. “Not nearly as serious as a sliced finger.”
Ah.
I knew I recognized him. Oliver’s family doctor. The one who had tended to Brett Junior after the kitchen incident.
When he finished tidying up, Zach ushered him out the door, returning a few minutes later.
I nodded to the Go table. “We should continue our game now.”
No point in putting it off.
“Rushing off to somewhere?”
“And if I say yes?” I raised a brow, dipping a toe into the water, feeling the knot in my stomach tightening.
“Depends. Where?” He paused. “And for the love of God, do not say Monowi.”
“You don’t believe in God.”
“No, but I do believe someone out in the universe is messing with me.” He claimed his usual seat at the table. “Seriously, though. If you say Monowi, I might nuke the city.”
I slid into the plush upholstery, lifting the lid off my bowl of stones. “How?”
It wasn’t lost on me how light our conversation had gotten. As if both of us wanted to shy away from the obvious trouble looming.
As always, he picked up a stone with perfect etiquette. “Have you forgotten that our neighbor is an arms dealer?”
I countered his move with the most ruthless one I could think of. “Right. Well, I guess I better spare the sole resident of Monowi.”
He frowned at the board. “This could last all night.”
“I have good stamina.”
“That may well be, but I plan to wear you out nice and good.”
“We’re still talking about the game, of course.”
“Of course.”
Four hours later, he gained control over the board. Neither of us had said a word the entire duration, instead concentrating on the stones.
He seemed deep in thought by the time I finally gathered the courage to broach the subject.
I reclined in my seat, linking my fingers together on my lap. “I resign.”
His eyes darted up from the stones. “Excuse me?”
“I have no moves left.” I unlinked my fingers, gesturing to the board. “Congratulations. You won.”
“I won?”
“Yep.” I nodded, doing my best not to melt into oblivion. “You won the pendant. Fair and square.”
Sorry, Dad. Are you disappointed in me?
Somewhere along the line, Zach and I had agreed to leverage the pendant as the award. Over time, the game had become foreplay rather than competition.
I didn’t think either of us really realized what we’d done. Judging by Zach’s tense shoulders, he must’ve forgotten what we were playing on.
“Farrow.”
I shook my head, shooting up. Wanting to say goodbye to the pendant one last time.
But a few steps in, I realized only one of the pendants sat in the glass case. Not mine.
My mild reaction startled me. I thought I’d break down, pivot, demand an explanation. But the confrontation with Vera had sucker punched me in the skull, rewiring my brain.
Vera, Reggie, and Tabby spent their lives amassing material items, unable to satiate their thirst. They committed crimes, ruined lives, and never understood the harm they caused.
I didn’t want to turn into them.
Would I love everything Vera had pawned back? With every fiber of my being.
But I refused to let their absence dictate my emotions.
If I focused on what I didn’t have, I would never appreciate what I did have.
“Talk to me, Farrow.”
“Drink?” I detoured to the whiskey cart, poured two glasses, and sat on top of Zach’s desk, swinging my legs. “I think we’ll need them.”
He padded to me, ignored the proffered drink, and stepped between my legs, resting his chin on my shoulder. A few months ago, he couldn’t even lay a pinky on me. “What’s going on in that chaotic head of yours?”
Everything I thought I knew about my past is wrong.
I don’t know who I am. Nor what my goals are now that fencing is gone and justice will be served.
I’m scared of turning into Vera, prioritizing all the wrong things.
I believe, with every ounce of my soul, that I’m better for you than Eileen. But I don’t want to dive into a relationship without knowing who I am first.
Instead, I settled for a simple, “I’m afraid what I’m about to ask you is selfish.”
“I want you to be selfish.” He circled my wrist with his fingers and raised the drink to his lips, taking a sip exactly where I’d left a ChapStick mark. “Consider me your personal genie. Your wish is my command.”
“Tell me something about octopuses,” I blurted out, getting last-minute cold feet.
Just do it already, you chicken.
“Hmm…” Zach buried his nose in my hair, inhaling my shampoo—which, in true mooch fashion, happened to be his. “If that’s your idea of a selfish request, we’ll have to revisit the dictionary.”
“Please.”
He closed his eyes, sobering up, and I wondered if he thought this would be the last time he gave me an octopus fun fact.
His eyes shot open. “Octopuses have eight tentacles.”
“Wow. Who would have thought?” I rapped a knuckle on his forehead. “No wonder you’re famous for that two-hundred-something IQ.”
“I’m not done, brat.” He tapped the tip of my nose. “I’m surprised you managed to survive twenty-three years with all that patience.”
“Sorry.” With my free hand, I mocked a zipper, sliding it across my lips and tossing the key.
“Excuse me, missy, but absolutely not.” He picked up the imaginary key from the floor and used it to unlock my mouth. “I have a lot of plans for that mouth of yours, and it needs to be open for all of them.”
I rubbed my knuckles against my cheek, fighting the heat. “Carry on.”
“In Mandarin, the word for four sounds like the word for death, which is why four is the unluckiest number in Chinese culture. I was born on the fourth day of the fourth month of the year. Eight, on the other hand? It’s the luckiest number.” He pulled back until we faced each other, nose to nose, mere inches apart. “You’re my good luck charm, Farrow Ballantine. Even the universe knows I need you.”
It was the closest he had ever gotten to saying he loved me.
My heart rebelled against my brain, threatening to tear out of its arteries and jump onto him.
Don’t do it, it begged with each thump. Stop this.
“I want a consolation prize.” I jerked my thumb at the Go board. “For losing the game.”
He arched a brow. “Is this the selfish request?”
I nodded, diving in. “Promise me—”
“I promise.”
“I haven’t even told you what the promise is.”
“Whatever you want from me, it’s yours.”
I sighed, sparing a glance at the empty glass container where my pendant should have sat beside his.
What is meant for you cannot be taken away.
I lowered my chin, staring at the floor, rushing out my request in one breath. “Promise me you won’t contact me for one entire month.”
“Excuse me?” He went eerily still. “And if I can’t live without you?”
“You did for thirty-three years.”
“That was before. And it was hardly living.”
“We’re not even dating.”
“Then, let’s start.”
“You’re engaged.”
“I’m breaking up wi—”
I held up a hand, stopping him. “Can I explain?”
“Yes.” His reluctance rivaled a toddler’s in the face of Brussel sprouts.
“These hands used to hold swords and slay dreams.” I stared at my open palms. “Now they’re just… empty.”
“I can get you an Olympic spot.”
“Even if you could, I don’t know if I want it. I don’t know what I want in general, now that Vera and Andras are locked up, my reputation is ruined, and I learned that Dad gave up everything for me.”
Zach tugged the edge of my sleeve. “His death isn’t your fault.”
“I know that logically, but I need time to accept it. Time, Zach. It’s what I’m asking for. To heal, to figure out who I am, and to know myself well enough to know what I want. I am so scared of turning into Vera, chasing all the wrong things.”
“You are nothing like Vera.”
“And yet, every ounce of me fears becoming her.”
I pressed a hand to his chest, studying him. He looked so frustrated, and angry, and confused, I wanted to abort mission, make a U-turn, and leap into his arms.
But I couldn’t.
“I love you, Zachary Sun.”
My first. My only. My always.
I knew, even before I said it, that it was true. I fell in love with him like the snow. The more I fell, the colder it became.
“Farrow—”
I held up a hand again, wanting to lower it when it looked like he’d combust on the spot.
“I don’t expect you to say it back. In fact, I don’t want you to. Not now, at least. I just want you to know that I love you.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” Heat crept up my cheeks, trekking to the tips of my ears. “I don’t want to say it’s because you help me, because you make me feel good, or even because you’re all I think about these days. These reasons feel so shallow.” I shook my head, grabbing the back of my neck. “If you asked me right now, I couldn’t give you a real answer. Just that… I love you because I love you. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“I’ll take it.”
“But I won’t. I don’t know myself well enough to explain what it is I love about you. I just know I do. More than I’ve ever loved anything in my life. Shouldn’t I at least figure that out?”
All I remembered of my life was fighting—fighting Vera, fighting Tabby and Reggie, fighting in fencing, fighting Zach.
I didn’t know who I was without that.
I stared down at my Prada sneakers—one of my birthday gifts from him. It squeaked against the wooden desk as I kicked my feet back and forth.
I needed to do some soul searching, to put myself first before I could love anyone else. And he had a big mess that required cleaning.
Initially, I’d planned on telling him about Eileen, but he needed to hear it from her. And if he didn’t, if he stayed with her, then we were never meant to be.
“Let’s take a month apart. To deal with the things we need to deal with.” I leaned over his desk, grabbed a red Sharpie, and snatched the tiny calendar he never used, circling the date a month from today. “If you love me as much as I love you, you’ll come back to me, Zachary Sun. I’ll be waiting.”
He looked ready to hand me over to Dr. Sullivan to check out my brain.
Finally, he managed to grumble, “If this is what you want.”
I mustered a grin. “Can’t wait to get rid of me, huh?”
Inside, my heart crumbled like a stale cookie.
After a moment of silence, I hopped off the desk, sliding my hands in my pockets, unsure of how to exit. “I guess this is it.”
He didn’t say anything.
I waited a few more seconds.
Say something. Anything.
He didn’t.
With a sigh, I trudged out the office and down the steps. It wasn’t until my hand hit the front door that I heard him approach from behind.
“Wait.”
I paused but didn’t turn, holding my breath, tensing when something slipped into my hand.
An electronic key.
I flipped it in my palm. “What is this?”
“For the garage.”
I still didn’t turn. “Why?”
“I moved your stuff into there earlier.”
Oh, God.
I felt like a total idiot.
Here I was, telling him I loved him, and he’d moved my things into his garage?
We’d only been apart one hour since we’d landed—the time it took me to get from the airport to my childhood home and confront Vera and Andras.
I tried not to toss the key at him, studying the doorknob without really seeing anything. “Oh.”
“Text me when you plan to check it out, and I’ll leave.”
“Thanks.”
I needed to get out of here before I cried.
Without another word, I swung open the front door and sprinted into the frosty winter night, not sure where I’d go from here.
I made it halfway down the driveway—headed toward Dallas’ house—when I pivoted, ran back to Zach’s front door, and planted a kiss on the frosted window beside it.
I could’ve sworn, as I straightened up, a shadow jerked back from the other side.
“Bye, Zachary Sun. I hope I see you a month from now.”
