The adrenaline had worked its way out of my bloodstream, and I leaned back against the couch cushions in exhaustion. “Strong. Yeah.”
“I’m serious. You did what your mother said to do. You disappeared. You tried to start a new life. And then you screwed it all up by rescuing some kid.” She smiled. “You’re not just strong, you’re a good person. So good, Sterling.”
Emotion fizzed in my throat. I couldn’t speak through the tightness, so I reached out and squeezed her fingers.
Tiffany raised the bottle of rye. “To Violetta.”
“To Mama.”
We passed the bottle back and forth until I was too tired to keep my eyes open. When I finally lay my head on the couch’s accent pillow, my legs strewn across Tiffany, I could almost pretend we were teenagers again, gossiping about the boys in our class and rating them on a sliding scale of hotness. I could almost pretend we had our entire lives ahead of us.
My eyes drifted shut, and I let myself believe I was still that girl who didn’t know what the future held.
“Sterling?” Tiffany whispered.
“Hmmm?”
“Do you trust me?”
Chapter Two
“Psst. Hey. Hey, Sterling. You’re drooling.”
I opened my eyes and caught Tiffany’s grin as dreamy morning light filtered through the large glass living room window. She held out a cup of coffee to me and I reluctantly sat up, realizing I’d fallen asleep on the couch.
“What time is it?” I asked, taking the coffee from her.
“Nine.”
“I don’t even remember falling asleep,” I murmured, stifling a yawn.
“I tried to get you to move to the guest room, but you flung me off. So I covered you with a blanket and left you to it.”
I looked into the coffee mug, steam rising toward my face. “Thanks.”
“How are you feeling?”
“I don’t know. Exhausted. Numb. Confused.”
Her aquamarine eyes were clear, and her skin was flushed with health. She didn’t look like she’d been up late pounding rye whiskey and talking to me about my past and my very screwed up present.
“There’s a clean towel in the guest bathroom. Did you bring a suitcase with you?”
“I left it in my car in the parking garage. I should grab it real fast.”
“I’ll have Jerry get it.” She called down to the security desk and a few minutes later Jerry stood at Tiffany’s threshold and she was giving him my car keys.
Jerry came back within ten minutes, handing off my suitcase. I thanked him as Tiffany closed the door.
“You passed out last night before I could offer you leftovers. You must be starving.” She smiled.
“I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday morning,” I admitted.
“Take a shower. I’ll have eggs ready by the time you get out.”
“Eggs would be good. Tiff? What am I going to do about this mess?”
“Shower first, food second, discussion third,” she said, her tone not allowing for argument. “There’s a fresh bottle of my favorite lavender body scrub. I swear it’s transformative.” She pointed in the direction of the guest room. “Go.”
I saluted her and grabbed my suitcase to wheel it into the bedroom. Once I closed the door, I settled the suitcase in the corner and unzipped it. I pulled out an old pair of faded jeans, clean undergarments, and a gray threadbare T-shirt. With my toiletry bag in hand, I headed into Tiffany’s guest bathroom.
The water was hot, and the pressure was perfect; the lavender body scrub soothed my senses. I hid for as long as I could, blocking out my hopeless reality.
But I knew I couldn’t hide in Tiffany’s shower, no matter how nice it was, and so I finally climbed out and towel dried my hair.
I got dressed and then went to the kitchen, lured by the aroma of eggs. My hunger kicked into high gear.
“You made this?” I asked in surprise when Tiffany slid a plate across the counter. I hopped up on a bar stool and reached for my fork.
“You think I made eggs Benedict?” She laughed. “You’re cute. I called out for it. There’s a café around the corner, and I tip well so they’re fast.”
“Well, thanks,” I said in amusement. “It smells great.”
“Eat.”
“You didn’t get anything for yourself?”
“I’ll have a smoothie in a bit.”
While I devoured the eggs, Tiffany stared at me pensively over her cup of coffee. “I’ve been thinking about your situation, and I think I have a solution.”
“I’m all ears,” I said.
“I know someone who can get you a new identity…a real one.” Tiffany paused for a moment and then said softly, “You need to talk to Genevieve.”
“Who’s Genevieve?”
“My boss. She can get you a job at The Rex and a new identity.”
“You work the Concierge desk, Tiff. How in the world can your boss get me a new identity?”
“I need you to trust me, Sterling.” Her eyes glowed like flames.
“Of course, I trust you,” I said automatically. “I came here, didn’t I? I told you everything.”
She smiled slightly. “You wouldn’t have told me anything if you didn’t need my help.”
“Probably not,” I admitted. “I wish I didn’t have to come to you. I wish I could have left you out of it and protected you. I don’t want you to run into any trouble because of my—”
“Hey, take a breath,” she said softly. “You shouldn’t have had to deal with this alone, Sterling. I’m happy you came to me.”
“I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you.”
“Nothing is going to happen to me.”
She came around the corner of the counter to embrace me, and for a moment, I let her. It had been so long since I’d felt the comfort of another person’s touch.
“Thank you,” I said again.
She pulled back and rested her hands on my shoulders. “I’m sorry for your loss, Sterling. But I want you to know that I admire you.”
“Admire me? Why?”
“Because I don’t know anyone who would’ve been able to do what you’ve done. You’ve got a lot of courage and determination.”
I stared into her eyes.
“I’m tired, Tiff.”
“I know.”
She took my empty plate and brought it to the sink to rinse it off. “When you talk to Genevieve, don’t lie to her. She’s going to push and prod for information. She’s going to want to know why you need a new identity and why you want a job at The Rex. You can’t hide it from her.”
“That goes against everything my mother’s letter said—and against all my natural instincts.”
“I told you, you’re going to have to trust me. You can trust Gen, too. You have to trust Gen.”
I paused for a moment. “I don’t really have a choice, do I?”
“Not really. Not unless you want to take your chances and run again. I’ll give you cash if that’s what you need, but I don’t have the connections to get you a new identity unless you speak with Gen.”