She pounces as though she’s been waiting for the slightest hint of encouragement. “I saw her heading back to hotel not too long ago. I think she had a headache or something. I’m sure she’s just lying down, the poor thing. But she might want something…you know, like aspirin?” Her smile is entirely too winsome. “You might want to check up on her.”
From her mischievous self-satisfied expression, I know what Ming Ming is thinking. I guess Elizabeth didn’t tell her how we broke up ten years ago. Or Ming Ming knows everything and is trying to see if we can have another go at it.
She’s going to be disappointed.
I start to turn toward the party crowd, then stop. Maybe Elizabeth really is feeling sick. If so, I should go and see how she’s doing. That’s the least I can do.
And I have a vested interest in making sure that she’s well enough to travel in two days. My schedule won’t allow me to spend more than a couple of days in Hawaii.
That’s the only reason I’m going to grab a bottle of aspirin and see how she’s doing.
I go to the hotel and ask the front desk clerk for Elizabeth’s room.
After checking her computer, she gives me a funny look. “Um—you’re both under the same reservation. I have you up in the suite—”
“What are you talking about? We’re not in the same anything.”
“I’m looking at our reservation records, sir, and—”
“Find me a different room.” There’s no way I’m spending the night with Elizabeth.
“I’m sorry, but we’re fully booked.”
What the hell? This better not be Elizabeth’s doing. Seething with an almost violent need to confront her, I demand the key to my room. The front desk clerk gives it to me after checking my ID.
I grab the freshly magnetized plastic and head straight for the suite. I barely hear the clerk telling me that my bags have been already delivered.
Maybe looking shaky and unwell was just an act. She fooled me spectacularly ten years ago, and now she’s had an extra decade to practice her acting skills.
What the hell is she playing at? She said she wanted something of hers from me. Trapping us in a same suite won’t make me give it up…even if I knew what it was. The pieces aren’t fitting neatly, and it leaves me unsettled and furious.
I stick the key into the slim slot, and the lock disengages with a click. I wrench the door open, marching into the darkness. I hear a soft gasp and a thud.
Blinking, I run my hand along the wall for the light switch, and the recessed bulbs in the ceiling glow a warm yellow. I spot Elizabeth huddled on the couch, shaking. Between her feet is a glass, its contents spilled all over the floor. Only the thick rug prevented it from breaking.
“You scared me,” she says, her voice hoarse and tight.
Her eyes are wide and glassy, and she’s entirely too pale, except for her cheeks, which are slightly flushed. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was on some drug. But the table in front of her is clean except for a bottle of vodka. And I know her tolerance for alcohol.
“Jesus, are you okay?” In spite of myself, concern causes my tone to soften.
She starts to shake her head, then catches herself. “I’m fine.”
It’s an “I’m not really okay but I don’t want to talk about it” fine. A phrase every woman uses, but this is the first time I’ve heard it from Elizabeth. And I don’t like it. It makes me worried.
I walk toward her, keeping my steps brisk to hide my feelings. Then I notice the corkscrew in her hand. She’s clutching it like a weapon, the twisted metal sticking out between her index and middle fingers.
“Elizabeth…?”
She follows my gaze, then drops the corkscrew as though it’s burning. “I was…thinking about getting some wine.”
I stop for a second. She’s lying so badly, I want to press her for the truth. But then I take in her rapidly blinking eyes and quick, shallow breaths. She’s trying very hard to cling to control, and I want to let her preserve that bit of dignity.
She looks away, her cheeks still slightly flushed. My eyes narrowed, I raise my hand to her forehead, wanting to check in case she’s feverish. But before I can touch her, she flinches as though she’s expecting a strike.
The reaction is insulting and alarming at the same time. Shouldn’t she know better? I’ve never used physical violence against her.
Or maybe things happened to her in the last ten years… Ugly things that cause her to flinch like that.