cutting me every which way. Screw it, I think. I maneuver my skirts and I climb right on top of Kace’s lap, straddling him. The music is now blasting and I lean into Kace, my lips at his ear. “Sara told me to fight for you but she assumed you cared about me. She was wrong. Obviously, you were looking for an out.” I move to get off of him and he catches my waist.
“I’m doing what’s best for you.”
“Liar. You’re the one running.” I try to move again. He holds onto me. “Let me go. Why are you bothering to hold me now, Kace?”
His jaw tics and then he releases me. The minute I climb off of him, he calls forward to Savage. “Go to the hotel.”
Relief washes over me. He’s not completely checked out. The man I know is still present, beneath all of that anger.
Not anger, I amend. Self-hate. He hates himself. And as Sara so rightfully said. I have to love him when he cannot love himself.
The ride is short, but it feels eternal. We sit there, not touching. It’s excruciating.
We arrive at the hotel and Savage opens my side of the vehicle. I slide out and Kace doesn’t follow. He gets out on the other side. He might as well cut me with a knife. I’m suddenly not sure he brought me here to work through this or just break up with me. I don’t know what I’m doing. We are not Chris and Sara. We’re new, and obviously not as close as I’d believed.
My eyes meet Savage’s and he says, “Don’t give up.”
“He already did,” I breathe out.
“No he hasn’t. Don’t give up.”
My lashes lower and I nod, but I can’t look at him again. I’m spiraling inside and trying to hold it together. I step away from the door, shivering as I realize now that my coat is still at the museum. Thankfully this is San Francisco, not New York and it’s only in the fifties or so, but the wind is cold. Kace is waiting on me, and he, too, is coatless but he’s not shivering. Hugging myself I start walking toward the door. Kace falls into step beside me and we enter the hotel just like that. Side-by-side, not touching, not looking at each other. We don’t stop once we’re in the lobby. We keep walking toward the elevator and Kace punches the button. The door opens and I step inside the car. Kace follows and swipes his card to punch in our floor. He leans on the wall to face me. I lean on the wall, too, but only a shoulder as I face the door. I can feel him watching me but can’t look at him right now. I’m now officially angry.
The doors open and I exit, walking ahead of him toward our room. I can feel Kace at my back, watching my every step, but he doesn’t try to catch up to me. Of course, I’ve achieved nothing but charging ahead. I’m at the door and forced to wait on him. This is all on his terms. He’s in control. And that’s how he likes it. He decides when we live or die. Emotions are pounding on me and I’m an explosion waiting to happen.
He claims the space beside me and I can feel his presence. He’s like a glass of whiskey—it burns and then warms you all over before it sizzles your nerve endings. And I drank the whole bottle. He slides the card and I notice his hands, his talented hands that play that violin like no other human being. Hands that touched me in ways I’ve never been touched. Hands that can melt me in a single caress. I’m suffocating in too much everything and I couldn’t even explain what that means to anyone who asked.
The minute the security light turns green, I open the door and step inside the room. I take only a few steps and whirl on him. He’s already inside, the door shutting behind him.
“Already can’t look at me, I see,” he says. “Or touch me.”
“Are you serious? I’m looking at you now. I was afraid I’d start yelling at you if I looked at you in the elevator.”
“Is that right?”
“You’re baiting me. Stop it. You are the one doing all this Kace. You. I’m angry and hurt because of how you’re acting, not because of what Alexander said. I could give a damn what Alexander has to say.”
“We both