Page 54
“I just need help. I don’t know what to wear,” I say matter-of-factly. “Paloma said we’re having a movie night and does that mean I should wear pajamas?”
Toren doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t make some snooty comment or joke at my expense. Instead, he moves his eyes over me again.
“Bottom drawer. Leggings and a T-shirt.”
My brow scrunches again as I prop my phone up on the top of the dresser.
“How do you know where I keep my leggings?”
He smirks, and I duck down before it takes hold of my heart and riles it back up.
“With all the time I had while you were in the shower, I could’ve drawn a blueprint of your room.”
Grabbing a pair of soft black flared leggings and an equally soft gray baby tee, I hold them back up to the camera.
“Yeah,” he says. “Not pajamas, but comfortable.”
I glance up at him, seeing the sincerity on his face and relaxing.
Toren would never make me look stupid.
I nod, before snatching a pair of panties and slipping them on, followed by the leggings without removing my robe. I can’t do the same with my shirt, and though I know I could just hang up, I don’t. And he doesn’t either. Instead, I drop the robe still faced away and slip on the shirt not bothering with a bra.
It’s only mere seconds between being naked and covered, but I can feel the heat of Toren’s stare on my bare back long after I’ve already clothed myself. The phone screen doesn’t dim the intense blaze of his eyes.
“Where are you?” I ask, crossing—and uncrossing—my arms. “At a Valentine’s thing?”
“A party,” he says. He’s standing by a door now, his body curved down to match the dip of his mouth. He’s so handsome. He always has been—intense and dominating and the most interesting person I’ve ever seen. No one will ever compare.
“Oh.” I nod and for the first time . . . I feel awkward.
Things have never been this hard and complex between us. I’m angry and frustrated, but I do want him near. I’m not upset that he’s in my life again. I’m not upset that I’m here at Waterfell with him. But maybe the pain I felt apart from Toren is more like the pain he feels with me here.
Maybe . . . maybe he’s still angry and rightfully so.
Does he hate me? It feels like it.
My mouth almost forms the words to ask. But I just manage to catch myself. I would rather live in the ignorance of it now. I could barely stand the idea of his hatred for nearly four years—I don’t think I could truly handle the reality of it. Not yet.
“You need to let him go.”
My father’s voice is like a buzzing in my brain, a constantly tripped wire that I can’t fully ignore no matter how hard I try.
But I know the deal I made. I know the cost, and I’m prepared to pay it. And maybe I need the reminder that Toren isn’t a part of that, not anymore. No matter how much I wish he was.
“This is stupid. I don’t know why I called.”
The words tumble out.
I’m a liar and he knows it.
I pull on my hair, gathering it high on my head before letting it spill down across my shoulders, an inch or two below my collarbone where I keep it bluntly chopped.
“Right,” Toren says, his mouth spreading into a sneer, teeth sharp. “Good night, Lily.”
• • •
“Are you ready?” Paloma asks, stepping into the living room in an oversize gray shirt and leggings. I nearly grin at how similar our outfits look. “Do we even have a TV?”
