Page 26 of The Dark Before Light

I’m rewarded with the barest of close-lipped smiles. I scoot even closer, almost falling off my seat. The need to see her eyetooth is fierce.

“So—”

Stirling’s gaze snaps to my right, and she smiles broadly. For someone else. “Gail!”

My sister-in-law shoves past Alistair and commandeers his seat, chattering a mile a minute to a grinning Stirling. I push backward until my spine hits the chair and glance at my brother, who stares at the women like he’s never seen female friends reunite before.

Flowery perfume and a whiff of Chardonnay invade my nose as Clavia returns. She asks me a question that I have to ask her to repeat, and I immediately forget the exchange after. It’s almost a relief when Toasty finally returns from the bathroom—probably after nervous shits—and Gail and Stirling wrap up their conversation.

Intermission ends and the orchestra begins Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7. Even though it’s one of Mam’s favorites, I struggle to immerse myself in the music. Stirling’s fault. I’m distracted by her neck, obsessively imagining what my hand would look like wrapped around the smooth, pale column.

When the final applause of the night tapers off, I tap Gail’s shoulder. “Take Flavia home, will you?”

She blinks, wide-eyed. “Um, sure. Okay.”

An annoyed voice chirps, “It’s Claudia.”

Alistair and I share a wince before I turn around. “Sorry, pet. It’s been a long week. I’ll reach out another time.”

Unable to help myself, I glance one last time at Stirling, blinking when I see she and Toasty are already gone. I scan the aisle but don’t see her. My bones start to burn with urgency—our conversation wasn’t finished.

Claudia makes an insulted noise as I brush past her, hurrying down the row and throwing out “sorry” left and right as I jostle people. I’m usually more cognizant of my size, but I need out. The human flow thickens at the back of the hall, and I have to resist the urge to shove through.

When I make it into the lobby, Sven and Dylan appear to either side of me. Gabe is likely on his way to fetch the car. A few people call my name as I cross to the exit doors. I ignore them, not slowing, and push outside.

I spot her standing alone at the curb. My legs eat the distance in seconds.

“Stirling.”

She spins on a heel, surprise flashing in her eyes before they flicker around me. Her throat moves as she swallows. “You shouldn’t be seen with me.”

My brows shoot up. “Who fuckin’ says?”

She rolls her eyes, the gesture so at odds with her usual poise I have to bite my lip to stop a grin.

“Where’s Toasty?” I ask.

She frowns. “Toasty?”

The grin sneaks free. “The white bread you’re with.”

Her head bows, and I think she mutters, “For fuck’s sake,” before sighing. “Mr. Hayes?—”

“You should call me Kieran or Kier in public if you’re worried about people thinking you’re my therapist. Though I guarantee that’s not what they’re wondering seeing us together.”

Her eyes widen a bit and veer to Sven. I have no idea what she sees on his face, but to my everlasting shock, a stain of peachy-pink spreads across her cheekbones. The sight is astounding. Revelatory. I’m a worthless sinner witnessing a miracle.

Like a fool, I say, “You’re blushing,” and it sounds like I’ve told her she’s spontaneously grown a third arm.

She takes an abrupt step backward. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, Mr.—”

“Kieran.”

She scowls. “—Hayes.”

A car pulls up to the curb behind her. I see Toasty sweating in the driver’s seat. Stirling sees him, too.

“Go easy on him, Doc. He looks breakable.”

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