Evan turned.
His face changed in the presence of money. It was disgusting to watch. He became smaller and more polished at once.
“Mr. Grant.”
“Mr. Hale.”
“This is a private conversation.”
“No,” I said. “It isn’t.”
Both men looked at me.
I stood slowly. My body still protested, but I stood.
“Evan, you don’t get private access to me anymore. You don’t get to corner me, insult me, frighten me, or rewrite what happened. Everything goes through Denise.”
His jaw clenched.
“You’re making a mistake.”
“I made one eight years ago. I’m correcting it now.”
For a moment, he looked like he might say something unforgivable.
Then Mark took one step forward.
Just one.
Evan swallowed whatever poison was on his tongue.
“You’ll regret this,” he said.
“No,” I answered. “I’ll recover from it.”
He left.
The room felt cleaner once he was gone.
I sat down because my legs were shaking.
Mark came closer.
“Are you all right?”
“No.”
“Fair.”
I looked up at him.
“You said yes.”
He tilted his head.
“When?”
“When he asked if you’d want me if I wasn’t tragic.”
Mark’s face softened.
“That was an easy answer.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
I studied him. “You haven’t kissed me.”
