Page 121 of Beautiful Liar

Despite the cruel game I’m playing, I’m intrigued. “I can do that.”

“Okay.”

We don’t speak for a minute, but the silence is easier. “Tell me,” I encourage.

“No. You sound better.”

My laughter takes me by surprise. “Better?”

“Yes. Less…anguished.”

Laughter ceases. I open my eyes, stare blankly at the white ceiling. “That’s a shame.”

A huff of surprise. “You’re sorry you’re feeling better?”

“I’m sorry you believe me to be anything but what I am.”

“I…don’t know what that means.”

“Sure, you do,” I respond. “You see me, Elly. Don’t you?”

“I see that you’re in pain,” she whispers. “That for some reason you’re locked into the suffering and choose to stay in it.”

My breath doesn’t catch. My dead heart doesn’t skip a beat. Truth is truth. Truth from Elly is…something else. But I’m not going to examine it right now. “Yes,” I respond simply.

“Why?”

“Ask me why I need breath to exist.”

“Quinn…” Her voice drifts away together with, I suspect, her attempt to understand. “I’m so sorry,” she eventually says.

Thenmy breath catches. Because in that moment, right then, I’m ablaze with the need to wrap myself in that sympathy, devour it until there’s nothing left.

“Call me tomorrow. Early. And, Elly?”

“Yes?”

“I’ll need a yes.”

I hang up and quickly redial.

“Fionnella, is the apartment ready?”

A deep sigh. “No, you said you wanted it done by morning. Twelve twenty-eight am is not morning.”

“Technically—”

“No. It’s not.” I hear muffled sounds, probably her sitting up in bed. “What’s gotten into you, Quinn?”

Ghosts dance on the ceiling. I squeeze my eyes shut once more. “We need to bring the schedule forward.”

She doesn’t pause a beat. “By how much?”

“Weeks, not months.”

“I can make it happen. But are you sure?” There’s cautious optimism in her voice. But also palpable relief. The end is in sight.

“I’m sure. It’s time.”

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