Page 19 of Queen of Ruin

“I’ll take my chances,” he denotes, tight lipped. “Can we just go? People are staring.”

I look around the park, but aside from the homeless man sleeping on the bench, there’s only an elderly couple walking on the other side of the park feeding the geese.

“Are you afraid you’re going to scare the geese?”

“Don’t try to be funny, Darren,” Alistair sneers.

I hold my hands up. “I wouldn’t dare when clearly you do it so much better.”

“Do not make me come after you.” Alistair tries to sound menacing, but I just can’t take him seriously while he’s wearing a dress, especially since he can’t seem to stay upright in his heels.

“I’d like to see you try,” I laugh as Alistair glares at me.

“If I knew you were going to be such an ass, I would have called someone else.”

We cross the street and reach the lot where my car is parked.

Stopping by the driver's door, I glare at him. “One of your friends at work?” I suggest.

“I’m worried about the two of you.” Evangeline opens the back door for Alistair. When he lifts his foot to get in, she gasps and says, “Are those Louboutins?” she asks, pointing to the red bottom of Alistair’s raised heel.

“What? I’m not wearing just any heels.” Alistair shrugs as if we’re both stupid. “I have standards.” Then he ducks his head into the car and slams the door shut.

“I don’t even have a pair of Louboutins.”

I lean against the car admiring her. I think she’s the most gorgeous creature to walk the earth. “I’ll buy you a pair if you want,” I offer, and she turns towards me with a surprised expression.

I would have bought her anything she wanted, but that wasn’t the point. This was the decisive moment where I could try putting everything behind me, rid myself of the mental image of her with my father, block out the omission, and see only her, because God knows if holding onto grudges was an Olympic event, I would have a gold medal.

“Not necessary.”

Instead of rounding the car, she waits… for what I don’t know. I’m not good at this, apologizing or expressing my feelings, but I want to kiss her. To have the weight of my body press her against the car, feel her hips pushing into me, and her soft hair against my face as I bury myself in the hollow of her neck; to steady me instead of Alistair.

Her hand rests on the space next to the window, her fingers curl against the unyielding metal and I step forward, but the window rolls down and Alistair’s head pokes out.

“Can we stop for coffee? I don’t care where,” he says and then pulls a face. “I retract that. Slipstream has this Ethiopian blend that’s just…” he doesn’t get to finish the sentence because I push his face back through the window. Evangeline laughs, lifting her hand to cover her mouth while I give her a lopsided smile. Fucking Alistair.

7

THE CRUX

EVANGELINE

Bailey pulls the car out in front of the National Archives Museum, a large Greek-inspired building with wide stone steps that lead up to the columned entrance, making me regret wearing high-heeled boots. It’s not as large as the National Portrait Museum, but it’s impressive and intimidating nonetheless. Bailey senses my hesitation, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror.

“The building won’t bite,” he teases.

“What about the people inside?” I challenge.

“That I can’t guarantee,” he laughs softly, “but you strike me as someone who’s not afraid to bite back, so…” He trails off while unbuckling his seatbelt.

“Bailey…” I stop him before he gets out, his eyes meeting mine again in the rearview mirror.

I hesitate because I feel like I should just let it go, but the need to know is overwhelming, so I ask anyway. “Why didn’t you say something to Darren when you recognized me?”

Bailey's shoulders sink as if he’s letting out a breath. “Why didn’t you tell Darren?”

“I didn’t want Darren to think badly of his father. Well, any more than he already did… or me,” I admit the last part quietly.

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