“No, but I hoped…”
“Fuck you! Don’t hope nice things for me right now. I’m mad at you! I don’t deserve this from you!”
I froze, wondering if she meant more than just being ignored.
“Say something!” Finley’s voice broke, and then she began to sniffle.
I wrinkled my nose. “Are you crying? Don’t cry, Fin, I’m sorry.”
“Why won’t you talk to me?” she cried. “What did I do?”
“Nothing. You didn’t do anything. I just didn’t want to ruin your vacation. I didn’t want you to feel guilty, and I didn’t want you to worry.”
“You’ve failed on all counts!”
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want you to be sorry!” she snapped. “I want you to answer your fucking phone when I call!”
“Okay,” I said. “I will.”
“You promise?” She was calmer now, taking a deep breath.
“I promise. I’ll answer when you call … if I’m not working.”
“What are you doing, anyway? Mother said you’re a secretary or photographer or something for the magazine there.”
“Yes.”
“Are you using the camera I bought you?”
I could hear her smiling. She had already forgiven me. She didn’t know about Sterling, and when she found out, she would remember this conversation and feel even more betrayed. All I wanted to do was get off the phone, but that would only make her suspicious.
“I am. It’s a really good camera, Fin, thanks.”
Finley didn’t talk for a few seconds. “I feel like I’m talking to a stranger.”
“It’s me,” I said.
“No, it’s not you. You’ve changed.”
“I’m sober.”
She breathed out a laugh. “How is that going?”
“Well, actually. Well … one fuck-up. How’s Sanya?”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve been in Bali the last three weeks.”
“How’s Bali?”
“Beautiful. I’m coming back to the States to see you.”
I panicked. “I miss you, Fin, but I’m traveling a lot with this job. I’m following around the interagency hotshots, and we’re all over the place until early October.”
“The hotshots? As in Tyler’s crew?”
“Yes.”
“You’re fucking him, aren’t you?”
“Occasionally.”
“I knew it!” She giggled.
I was going to miss this Finley, the one who was never shocked, and who always let my misdeeds slide off her shoulders. Finley always made excuses for me; she led me around life holding my hand, and bossed me around without a second thought because that was what older sisters did.
No matter how much I wanted to prevent it, there would come a time when we would be sisters but no longer friends. Even if Finley forgave me, she would forever feel the pain of my betrayal and never know if she could trust me again.
I chugged one of two bottled waters in the room, wishing it were something stronger, and then paced a few laps before deciding to go back downstairs. My reflection in the mirror by the door caught my attention, and I stared into the round, icy-blue eyes staring blankly back at me. My reflection wasn’t kind. Dark strands of wavy hair hung from my messy bun. I was sober, and working, doing everything normal people did … was I happy?
A part of me hated Tyler for having to ask myself that question. If I couldn’t be happy doing something I loved, sleeping next to a patient man trying to care for me the only way he knew how, did I deserve to be? I was autonomous, making my own money and my own decisions—but staring at Ellie two-point-oh in the mirror, the sadness in her eyes was hard to ignore. It was infuriating.
The heavy door slammed behind me as I made my way down the hall. The elevator took me to the lobby, which I was surprised to find nearly empty.
“Hi,” I said to the desk clerk.
She smiled, pushing away the doodle she was working on.
“That’s pretty good,” I said, taking a second look.
“Thanks,” she said. “What can I do for you?”
I placed my credit card on the front desk. “Can I change the card on my room?”
“Sure,” she said, taking the silver rectangle from the desk. She used her mouse, clicking a few times, and then slid the card through the scanner. “For incidentals, too?”
“Yes. Everything.”
“Got it,” she said, handing it back to me. “Just sign here.”
“Thanks—” I looked at her name badge “—Darby.”
“No problem, MountainEar.”
I walked over to the bar and sat on the stool, alone except for the man behind the counter washing dishes. He had smooth, swarthy skin, and he was too young for his full head of silver hair and sideburns.
“Afternoon,” he said. He stuffed his cloth-covered fist into a glass tumbler, twisting quickly before picking up another glass from the sink. His dark eyes made him seem to be staring at me with much more intensity than he meant to.
“Hi. Just a … um … a Sprite for now.”
“On the rocks?” he teased. His smile faded, and he got to work, realizing I wasn’t in the mood for jokes.
He filled a tall glass, sliding it in front of me. His eyes sparked when someone sat on the stool to my right. It wasn’t hard to guess once he spoke.