“I don’t like plan B, Grayson. Plan B is you leaving me—oh! Oh my God! Grayson!” I grabbed both of his hands. “Lottie told me West’s password earlier.”
Grayson’s brows popped. “What? How?”
“It’s songbird—like from my poem. She said he uses it for everything. I feel dumb and…a little violated. I don’t know. Like, he’s using that piece of me.”
His grip tightened on my wrist, pulling me slightly closer to him. I let him, falling into his embrace. Forgetting the clock, just for a moment.
Grayson dragged me close to him. “Well, we’ll use that piece against him, little wife.”
“Let’s end this tomorrow.” I fell deeper into him. Into his warm, hard chest. “Do you trust me?”
Forty-Seven
STORY
“You have to let me go,” I said as Grayson pressed the thousandth kiss to my lips.
Instead, we lingered in his doorway. He’d given me a white shirt to wear. It was a soft, cotton thing that probably cost hundreds.
“It barely fits around my stomach.” I played with the buttery-soft material, trying to stretch it.
When I looked up, his eyes were on my stomach, jaw clenched so tight the muscle feathered. “I would walk you back if I didn’t think it would draw attention.”
“Tomorrow,” I said.
“Tomorrow.”
He let me go with a lingering touch to my hand, and I felt his eyes on me as I walked down his stairs, tiptoeing through the shadows of his wing.
The door to Lottie’s wing was open, yellow light drenching the floorboards. I heard the same sound I had upstairs with Grayson, but louder, clearly coming from inside.
I looked at the clock—now eleven-thirty. I knew I shouldn’t go to her, but I couldn’t help but feel no one was watching her. No one saw what was happening to her.
She was falling apart.
So I went to her.
Lottie was sitting on the floor of her bedroom, staring at a dress hanging against the gilded arched window. She didn’t even flinch when I spoke.
“Lottie?”
She barely looked at me. “If you’re worried that I gave up our secret, my mother found me sitting in the hall. I made up an excuse.” She eyed my T-shirt outfit. “Do you need something to wear?”
“Um…” I tugged on the shirt he gave me.
Honestly? Probably.
“This is supposedly centuries old,” she said, gaze turning back to the window. “You should be wearing this dress. The jewels.”
“It’s for the shower?”
She nodded. Lottie stared at the dress. It reminded me of a princess dress from the medieval era. An empire fit made of periwinkle silk with a slight silver shine. The christening jewels hung over the neck.
“I thought my mother was the only one who loved me. I thought…” she trailed off, exhaling.
“I understand.”
Lottie blinked, jerking her head to mine with a glare. It was like in the bathroom, a mask fell over her face and whatever glimpse I saw vanished.