Page 121 of Blacklist

Undeterred the dog begins to lick my cheek. I giggle, scratching his head. “I take back what I said about him listening to you.”

“You’re going to spoil him.” Sterling clips the leash on him and tugs him away gently. “Sorry, boy, she’s spoken for.”

Zeus doesn’t seem to mind the rejection now that a walk is imminent. He tugs on his leash.

“Why don’t you order something?”

“I don’t have my phone,” I say. “I guess I could get dressed and go find it.”

“That would be a tragedy. I’d prefer you remain naked until I return.” He pulls his out of his pocket and tosses it to me. “Pass code is 0822. Order anything you want. I won’t be long.”

“Anything?” I ask. “I’m pretty hungry.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he calls as Zeus drags him away.

I pull the sheet against me and sit up in bed. It takes me a second to find the food delivery app. As I scroll through the options, a text alert from Sutton flashes at the top of the screen.

I don’t mean to look. I don’t mean to read it. It’s just there for me to see—and now I can’t unsee it.

Five words change everything. Five words erase everything. Five words shatter this pretty illusion that I let myself believe.

I can’t stop my finger from pressing it—from reading the rest of the conversation. I don’t know who Sutton is, but it doesn’t matter.

The phone falls to the bed as my world falls apart. Getting out of his bed, I open the nightstand drawer. It’s in there, on top, just like I knew it would be: The Great Gatsby. I don’t bother looking at the other books stored there. I turn to the last page and tear it out, ripping up all but the final line. I leave it on the pillow like a note and sprinkle the remaining pieces on the sheets.

He’ll know what it means.

The rest comes automatically. I gather my dress from the floor and tie it the best I can with its ripped belt. Shoes. Purse. Out the door. Press the elevator button. I make it to the car before it hits me. I left something behind and I can’t go back for it. Closing my eyes, I decide to leave it for him to clean up. It’s useless to me now: my broken heart.

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