“Oh, right,” she said and flopped back on the bed with her mind careening around. She hoped there was a more complete version of the manuscript somewhere, something typed up. Perhaps Matilda, Essie’s last assistant, would know. When she closed her eyes, the room started to spin. “Essie only died two weeks ago. How can I possibly keep her secret for another five and a half more months?” she murmured.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Anthony said gently.

“But it means keeping up a charade that Essie’s still alive,” Liv said, aware her words sounded slurred.

“Let’s not discuss all this now,” Anthony cut in. “Let’s converse again when you’re more composed. It’s been a long day, for both of us.”

Liv glanced at the empty champagne bottle and noticed it was growing darker outside. Lights sparkled from the bars and restaurants in the streets below, and she felt like a skydiver on the verge of jumping out of a plane. She started to hiccup. “When can we meet again?” she said, feeling drained.

He was silent for a while. “Next week, Wednesday at the Museum of Writing,” he said. “Does 10 a.m. work for you?”

Liv had hoped it would be sooner, but she could hang on for seven days. “Sure, I’ll see you then.”

After hanging up, she stood and traipsed into the kitchen where she found a bottle of Merlot. She carried it into Essie’s writing room and slumped at the desk. When her phone pinged, she saw the message was from Jake.

Where are you? he said.

She sighed. Didn’t he trust her?

I’m fire, don’t wossy, she replied, only realizing her misspellings after she’d sent her reply. Be home soon x.

He rang her back, but Liv didn’t pick up. She closed her eyes until “Paperback Writer” stopped playing. Not wanting to speak to him or anyone else right now, she switched off her phone and dropped it into her bag. She giggled at how inebriated she felt, which made her feel guilty, so she started to cry. Tears streamed down her face and her nose grew snotty.

Exhausted, Liv circled her arms on top of the desk and let her head drop forward. The varnished oak felt cool and smooth against her skin and her eyelids grew heavy. She drifted off into a woozy sleep.

When she woke up, she had a floor-to-ceiling view of an ethereal peach sky and candy floss clouds. It was beautiful but also made her feel light-headed. She limply raised her wrist to look at the time.

4:27 a.m.

Liv sat bolt upright. She snatched up her bag and knocked her glass off the desk. Drops of wine sprinkled the carpet and she gave them a quick rub with her socked toe. With no time to worry about stains, she tugged on her shoes in the hallway and scrambled out of the apartment.