Page 224 of Swallow Your Sorries

“I know how you are, remember? You cried to me three months ago. And you’re still crying aren’t you?”

“How can I forget when you never allow me to…until now. Our latest trade makes everything fair and even.”

“Fine. What do you want?”

She pushes on her elbow, cradling her head in her palm. “That box of course.”

Time stops. All the night birds stop chirping. All the tree branches stop swaying. The only sound is my pounding heartbeat in my ears.

“What box?”

But we both know.

“You know, the one from that night you’re always reminding me about. The pink one.”

“It was in my room," I say slowly. "You were in the guest room.”

“You’re unfamiliar with how legs and doors work?”

“You crept into my room. What the hell were you doing in my room?”

“Have you heard about the midnight barber?”

“Aria.”

“What do you think? That I wanted to see you sleeping so I could rub one out? Please. I saw that package being delivered.”

“And you just invaded my privacy?”

She rolls her eyes. “Let’s not talk about boundaries, Gant. We both know you have none.”

“If you saw the box, why didn’t you just open it then?”

“I couldn’t break the seal, could I? You would know.”

“And you don’t know. You have no clue what it is. It could be ashes.”

“It could be,” Aria says, rolling onto her stomach. “But we both know you can’t bear the thought of them. It’s why your mother’s urn isn’t in the penthouse.”

“Still you’d barter for a mystery box?”

“What do I have to lose? I don’t care about the college scouts for ballet.”

“Then why do you want it? Just forfeit the role.”

“I want it because you want it. And if Gant Auclair wants something, it’s invaluable. Sort of like Elle right? Though I still haven’t figured out what it is about her that makes you so obsessed and so deranged.”

“Maybe you can ask Étienne to explain.”

“Do you see Étienne here?”

“No. Just me and you, again.”

“Give me the pink box, Gant.”

“No.”

I’d spent weeks plotting this and a mini fortune on Mistress. It’d taken weeks for her specialty French monk-imported wines and chocolates to come in. Then it took me another month to butter her up enough to bend to my play selection. Then there were the dozens of private lessons to get Elle up to par for this big moment, and for what? It would all be in vain if I gave Aria that damn box.

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