Page 80 of Edge of Whispers

My head whipped around to check. Sure enough, the jack of the room phone had been disconnected. I stared at it, horrified. Liam met my gaze and gave me an unapologetic shrug.

Tension gathered in my neck. My throat tightened.

“See what I’m saying?” Peter sounded triumphant. “Focus, Nance. No distractions. You’ll come to the Jericho gig, right?”

“I definitely should,” I said.

“It’s finally happening, Nance!” Enid said excitedly. “We’re going to totally slay!”

Liam moved around in the room behind me, and I suddenly remembered our sailboat plans. “Oh. Wait. I, um, did have plans for the next few days,” I said.

Liam’s muscular back was to me as he rifled through his overnight bag.

“Postpone ’em,” Peter said, waving a dismissive hand. “This is the chance of a lifetime. Nothing trumps this.”

“Yeah,” I said, glancing anxiously around.

Peter followed my gaze. His face hardened. “He’s not coming with us.”

“Don’t worry.” Liam’s voice was remote. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Peter made an impatient sound. “Good. So? Enid will go down and stall Maitland Sills while you get yourself together. But hurry! See you in a few.”

I shut the door and turned to face Liam.

His face looked as hard as a mask. “So we can forget our plans, I take it.”

I pressed my fist against my mouth. Shit, shit, shit. “I’m sorry, Liam, but everything has to stop for this gig. I’ll be on the phone nonstop for days to publicize?—”

“I understand perfectly.”

Hope stirred briefly. “You do?”

“Of course. I should never have put down a deposit. It was stupid. There’s always going to be something more important for you. Always.”

Hope shriveled and died. I stared at his averted face as he fished under the bed for his shoes. “Liam, I would love to go on this trip! Let’s do it when I get back!”

“That’s the thing,” he said. “We won’t. Something else will come up. And something else after that. I know that tune by heart.”

“We’re not listening to the same tune,” I said. “Besides, we couldn’t keep up this eternal vigilance routine much longer anyhow. I understand the feelings behind it, but we both have to make money, and this is the biggest?—”

He held up his hand. “Stop. You’re just making it worse.”

My knees weakened with dread. “We’ve … we’ve hit that wall, haven’t we?”

Liam dragged a shirt over his head and tucked it into his jeans with swift, economical motions. “We are roadkill,” he said.

I laid my hand on his chest. “Liam. It can’t be over just because of this. This is stupid. This is just bad timing. That’s all!”

He stepped back, and my hand dropped, with nothing to hold on to. My jaw trembled. “I was starting to think we had a chance,” I said.

“So come sailing with me.” His voice was hard and cold. “You can’t, can you? Of course not. You’ll never prioritize that. You’ve made your choice. Own it.”

“Liam, I’ve been working for this moment for my whole adult life!”

“So good luck with it.” He took the revolver from the back of his jeans, opened the cylinder and shook the bullets out into his hand. He tossed the empty gun into his bag and looked up at me, his eyes flinty cold. “Better start making those phone calls. No time to lose. And don’t you have a producer downstairs to schmooze with?”

“Wow,” I whispered. “You are the most rigid, uncompromising person I have ever known.”

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