Why in the hell is Willard here?
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Vanessa Steele, motioning to a cameraman to pick up start filming. Before I can say a word, little Penelope Von Titebottum advances, and then she takes a damn swing at me.
“Arsehole!”
I step back out of reach, but just barely.
Sarah comes down the stairs then, looking small and frail. And across her shoulder is her old satchel . . . filled with her books.
“Sarah . . . what’s happening?”
Her skin is so pale, her eyes huge and dark as she looks me up and down. “You’re back. Are you all right? Was anyone hurt? I was worried about the storm.”
“No, we’re fine. We’re all fine.”
Something shifts in her features then. “You said you weren’t going to go. You said you would quit, Henry. And instead, you were gone all night—I think I deserve an explanation.”
I rub my forehead. “I was going to quit, but . . . this way is easier. It’s only a few more days, Sarah. It’s better this way—trust me.”
“Better for whom, Henry?” Tears well in her eyes and I want to die. And her tone drips with betrayal. “I waited for you. I believed you, like a fool. And you were off with Laura all night, doing—”
“Doing nothing!” I shout, because—fuck me. “Nothing happened between me and Laura.”
Of course, there’s a lull in the ruckus, just enough for Laura’s voice to carry as she tells Cordelia, “Henry was wonderful. He held me all night.”
Sarah blanches, then accusation resumes its place in her expression.
“While she vomited her intestines up!” I yell. “All over me! Here—smell me—I reek of puke, not pussy.”
There’s a loud gasp and a squeak, and both Sarah and I turn in time to see Laura’s head loll, her eyes close, and her knees give out as she faints dead away. Luckily, it’s Willard to the rescue—he moves quickly and catches her before she hits the ground. Slowly, he lowers down to his knees and after a moment, Laura opens her eyes, blinking up at him.
“You caught me.”
“I did,” Willard replies gently.
“I’m Laura.”
“I’m Willard. Feel free to fall into my arms anytime.”
Laure covers her mouth with her hand. “I smell terribly.”
He gazes down at her—already totally enamored.
“I don’t mind.”
Penelope breaks the tender scene when she comes up beside Sarah, hands on her hips. “Well? Did he quit?”
Sarah’s voice has the ring of a death knell. “No.”
Sparks practically shoot out of Penny’s eyes—right at my fucking forehead.
“And he’s not going to? He’s going to continue to take up with the other girls?”
“I’m not fucking taking up with them,” I object. “It’s not like that.”
Only Sarah seems to think it is. “Yes.”
“I knew it.” Penny shakes her head. “I’m glad I called Willard beforehand. We’ll send the staff for our things. Let’s go, Sarah.”
I grab Sarah’s arm. “It’s not like it sounds, I swear. I can explain.”
She makes a visible effort to control her breathing. “No, I think . . . I think Penny’s right. Some perspective will be good for me. It’s all so much at once. I won’t stay here if you’re going to . . .” She looks away, choking on the words. “I need some space away from all this.”
She means space away from me. And space is just another word for banishment.
And for a moment I lose my mind.
“Fucking hell!” I kick the table at the bottom of the staircase—sending a crystal vase tumbling over and crashing to the floor, emitting the sound of a gun blast as it shatters into a thousand pieces.
And Sarah’s lovely face pales to stark white. Her eyes glaze over and her body goes still as death.
And it feels like my ribs crumble into dust.
Because she’s gone, lost in a hell of her father’s making . . .
And I’m the one who sent her there.
Anguished words are torn from my lungs. “Sarah . . . no . . .”
Before I can pull her into my arms, Penny’s there, wrenching her away and screaming.
“Get away from her! You stay away!”
Penelope’s eyes are wild, and her mouth is drawn back in a feral snarl, ready to tear to pieces anyone who gets near the sister she loves so much.
We’re frozen in our places for only a few moments, but it feels much longer. And then that horrific rasping sound comes from Sarah’s throat as she comes to, gasping and panicked, grasping at Penny. Then she lifts her head and looks at me.
I move forward again, but Sarah falls back, away, dragging Penelope with her. She holds up her hand to me. “Stop.”
And it’s all so fucking awful. How is it possible for things to go from perfect—the most perfect moments of my life—to ruins?
I keep my voice calm and steady. “Sarah, please, just . . . please.”
I’m not even sure what I’m begging for.
“Stay . . . stay away from me.”
And with one last agonized look, she turns around and, with Penny, walks out the door.
I move forward, but my steps turn to stumbles, and before I know it I’m on my knees. Maybe it’s the exhaustion or maybe it’s the knowledge that the one relationship in my life that I thought I’d finally gotten right, the only woman I’ve ever loved, who I would cut my fucking heart out for . . . doesn’t want to be anywhere near me.