what I think is the side of the building.
I’m bursting through the door, already feeling the soft heat of the night on my cheeks, when someone yelps.
I take a big step back and find myself staring at a red-haired woman. She’s petite, with huge breasts, an hourglass waistline, and a fine-boned face. She has twinkling green eyes, traces of dimples on either side of her mouth, and she’s wearing an elegant, green wraparound dress. Obviously an escort.
“I’m so sorry,” she says, stepping back, onto a little garden path.
“That’s okay. It was probably my fault.” I stare at her face for a second before my hands fly to my mouth. “Oh my God, I know you! You’re that nurse! You’re an escort, too?”
It’s rude to blurt it out this way, but my mouth moves before my brain can stop it.
And then, while her face twists and her mouth opens wordlessly, my brain makes a furious lunge forward.
This woman has red hair.
Lizzy told me ‘Meredith’ has red hair.
“Oh my God . You’re Missy King! ”
“Meredith,” she whispers, wide-eyed.
“Wow.” So this is her: Cross’s Meredith. My gaze sweeps her small, taut body, and I can’t help comparing myself to her. Cross didn’t even want to kiss me, and he wants to marry her. As my eyes sweep her body, she takes a wobbly step back. She’s about to turn, to go, but all I can think about is the one glimpse I’ve had of Cross today, late this morning when Lizzy pried the door open and I peeked in: Cross, lying in his room, propped up on pillows, sipping something alcoholic and playing solitaire on his phone. “Have you seen Cross yet?”
She bites her lip, and I forge ahead—for Cross’s sake. “He misses you so much. And yeah, if you were wondering, I’m okay with that.” My failed attempt at seducing Cross came up when I babbled to the “nurse” in the supply closet, so I’m sure she thinks I’m in love with her man. “Cross is one of my very best friends, and I just want him to be happy. I think he would be, if he knew that you were here. Does he know?”
She steps back a little more. “I haven’t talked to him.”
“So…are you?”
Her green eyes meet mine, and my heart sinks before she opens her mouth. “Listen…I’m just laying low here for a while. Until I get my life together again. It has nothing to do with Cross. I didn’t even know that he would be here.”
“Do you care about him?” I ask bluntly.
Her eyes burn. “I care very much about him, but there’s lots of baggage between us. Lots of…obligation.” Her mouth twists downward.
“Well I can tell you this. He really seems to care about you, and I’m sure you know, he’s been through a lot. Be careful with him, okay?”
She nods, tears filling her eyes, and dashes off between the trees, toward what I’m pretty sure is the escorts’ dormitory.
My stomach is in knots as I walk the other way, into the bushes I hope will hide me from Lizzy and everyone at the pool.
I’ve heard there’s a large, shrubbery maze to the left of the pond, before you reach the cottages. It’s a unique feature, so I tell myself my aimless nighttime walk has an educational purpose. That I’m not just running from my troubles.
I breathe deeply as I move under massive weeping willows and between carefully manicured snap roses. Despite the turmoil in my heart, I can’t help but feel impressed. This place might be a cesspool of sex-for-pay, but the grounds and the interior design are stunning. I tell myself they have to be, to keep the clients coming—har de har—but I can’t help wondering if the lavish grounds say more about Marchant Radcliffe than that he’s a good salesman.
What kind of guy is he, other than one who drinks?
I think back on what Lizzy and Hunter have been murmuring about him since that day at the hospital. Hunter thinks he’s doing drugs, and Lizzy thinks he has anxiety or something. Apparently, since he left the hospital that day, no one’s really seen him. He’s not answering
I’m bursting through the door, already feeling the soft heat of the night on my cheeks, when someone yelps.
I take a big step back and find myself staring at a red-haired woman. She’s petite, with huge breasts, an hourglass waistline, and a fine-boned face. She has twinkling green eyes, traces of dimples on either side of her mouth, and she’s wearing an elegant, green wraparound dress. Obviously an escort.
“I’m so sorry,” she says, stepping back, onto a little garden path.
“That’s okay. It was probably my fault.” I stare at her face for a second before my hands fly to my mouth. “Oh my God, I know you! You’re that nurse! You’re an escort, too?”
It’s rude to blurt it out this way, but my mouth moves before my brain can stop it.
And then, while her face twists and her mouth opens wordlessly, my brain makes a furious lunge forward.
This woman has red hair.
Lizzy told me ‘Meredith’ has red hair.
“Oh my God . You’re Missy King! ”
“Meredith,” she whispers, wide-eyed.
“Wow.” So this is her: Cross’s Meredith. My gaze sweeps her small, taut body, and I can’t help comparing myself to her. Cross didn’t even want to kiss me, and he wants to marry her. As my eyes sweep her body, she takes a wobbly step back. She’s about to turn, to go, but all I can think about is the one glimpse I’ve had of Cross today, late this morning when Lizzy pried the door open and I peeked in: Cross, lying in his room, propped up on pillows, sipping something alcoholic and playing solitaire on his phone. “Have you seen Cross yet?”
She bites her lip, and I forge ahead—for Cross’s sake. “He misses you so much. And yeah, if you were wondering, I’m okay with that.” My failed attempt at seducing Cross came up when I babbled to the “nurse” in the supply closet, so I’m sure she thinks I’m in love with her man. “Cross is one of my very best friends, and I just want him to be happy. I think he would be, if he knew that you were here. Does he know?”
She steps back a little more. “I haven’t talked to him.”
“So…are you?”
Her green eyes meet mine, and my heart sinks before she opens her mouth. “Listen…I’m just laying low here for a while. Until I get my life together again. It has nothing to do with Cross. I didn’t even know that he would be here.”
“Do you care about him?” I ask bluntly.
Her eyes burn. “I care very much about him, but there’s lots of baggage between us. Lots of…obligation.” Her mouth twists downward.
“Well I can tell you this. He really seems to care about you, and I’m sure you know, he’s been through a lot. Be careful with him, okay?”
She nods, tears filling her eyes, and dashes off between the trees, toward what I’m pretty sure is the escorts’ dormitory.
My stomach is in knots as I walk the other way, into the bushes I hope will hide me from Lizzy and everyone at the pool.
I’ve heard there’s a large, shrubbery maze to the left of the pond, before you reach the cottages. It’s a unique feature, so I tell myself my aimless nighttime walk has an educational purpose. That I’m not just running from my troubles.
I breathe deeply as I move under massive weeping willows and between carefully manicured snap roses. Despite the turmoil in my heart, I can’t help but feel impressed. This place might be a cesspool of sex-for-pay, but the grounds and the interior design are stunning. I tell myself they have to be, to keep the clients coming—har de har—but I can’t help wondering if the lavish grounds say more about Marchant Radcliffe than that he’s a good salesman.
What kind of guy is he, other than one who drinks?
I think back on what Lizzy and Hunter have been murmuring about him since that day at the hospital. Hunter thinks he’s doing drugs, and Lizzy thinks he has anxiety or something. Apparently, since he left the hospital that day, no one’s really seen him. He’s not answering
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