Back The Midnight Lie
Chapters (60)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. EPILOGUE
  57. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  58. Also by Marie Rutkoski
  59. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  60. Newsletter Sign-up

I was so tired. My feet were sore. I leaned into Sid as we walked, my head on her shoulder, half asleep. I felt, through my sleepiness, that she was wide awake. Whatever she was thinking seemed to whir inside her. I let myself feel safe, not caring if I’d discover, later, that the feeling had been a mistake. The skin of her throat felt too soft against my cheek, and her arm around me felt too good. She wouldn’t hold me like this if she didn’t feel at least part of what I felt. She wouldn’t have smiled when she realized that her watch had always worked, that my desire had been for her. She wouldn’t have loved my green dress, or touched my cheek, or kissed my palm and pretended it was an apology, or have grown suddenly distant and cold when I said I loved Aden. She wouldn’t have made me a promise. My memories were clear, and what I hadn’t understood before now seemed obvious.

I knew she would leave me. She had always said she would.

Whatever she felt for me wouldn’t last. But I wanted it for as long as it did.

She got her key into the front door of the house. We went up the soundless stairs, the steps so quiet it was as though they were dreaming beneath our feet.

Sid pushed open the door to my bedroom. A draft tugged open the balcony doors, which I hadn’t properly shut. The glass panes rattled in their frames. The wind lifted and swirled the sheer curtains. A breeze skimmed over the bed, swinging the tiny tassels on the creamy toile covers. I turned and shut the bedroom door behind us. The wind died.

Sid’s back was to the bedroom door. I curled my fingers into her undone white collar, hooking down, the heel of my hand against the rise of her breast beneath the stiff jacket, her skin hot to the touch, her pulse fast against my palm.

“You’re half asleep,” she said.

“I’m awake.”

Her hand lifted to cover mine and press it against her chest.

“I owe you a yes,” I said.

Her dark eyes were shadowed. My palm was flattened now, the tips of my fingers against her throat, her hand firm on mine.

I said, “Ask me to kiss you.”