Page 26 of Aftershock
Impossible.
He didn’t seem to recognize me in the hospital. There’s no reason he’ll start connecting the dots now.
One day, I’ll tell him. Just not anytime soon.
Once the barber is done, I take a second to ogle him. He looks fresh and handsome, and yes, the barber has done an amazing job.
But Alaric will be hot no matter what.
Oh, crap, he’s coming out of the shop.
Quickly, I lean against the wall and hide, waiting to hear Alaric’s footsteps fade down the quiet alley.
As soon as they do, I pull the hood over my head, lift the empty cake box, and go.
My heart rate rises and falls like a roller coaster as I tail Alaric.
I can’t get enough of him. His confident gait. The power he radiates.
And he’s holding the cup I gave him. The ghost of my fingertips must linger there, on the sleeve.
My fingers still tingle where his brushed mine. My body remembers the shock that pulsed through me when we were skin-to-skin.
The feeling lasts until, eventually, he makes it home.
From a street corner nearby, I count to a hundred after he disappears into the lobby, then follow him inside, slip through the revolving door, and stop at the doorman’s desk.
“Good evening.” To avoid being too recognizable, I maintain eye contact without lifting my head too high, letting the hood shadow enough of my face to blur the details. It’s an act, one that’s easy to pull off since I’m equipped with an excuse and one of Alaric’s neighbors’ names. “I have a delivery for the Melvilles.”
“Okay.” The doorman reaches for the phone.
“Uh, sir, you can’t call them.”
“Excuse me?” Confusion flashes over the tall, lanky man’s face. His blond eyebrows, the same color as his hair, pinch together.
“Mrs. Melville, Emma, wanted the cake to be a surprise.”
I got their names from my PI last night. That rush fee really pays off now, as the doorman’s expression softens. By a fraction.
“I have her cell number right here.” He turns to the screen, sliding the mouse and clicking. “I’m sure if I just called her, we could clear this?—”
“Sir.” Shifting on my feet makes me look nervous, so that’s what I do. “I’m kind of not supposed to say this, but there’s a reason for the secrecy.”
At that, his eyes snap back to me. “Oh?”
Living under Mom’s reign of terror turned me into an immaculate liar. It was one of the ways I survived her, saying all the right things to keep her from beating me up. Complimenting her dress. Telling her I cooked the takeout I’d ordered. Stuff like that.
Granted, it wasn’t foolproof. If the woman was out for blood, which happened more often than not, there was no stopping her. She would’ve slapped, punched, and kicked me no matter what I said.
Anyway. “Could you keep a secret?”
“Sure.”
“She said it’s for celebrating her husband’s life,” I say, lowering my voice. “I’m not sure what it means, other than it’s a big deal. Personal. She specifically asked me not to call or log it so it doesn’t tip him off.”
“Darn it.” The doorman returns to his screen, forehead creasing. “Wish I could let you through, but as you mentioned, she hasn’t left any instructions.”
Time to turn on the waterworks.
