“But I got scared and waited a moment too long. I was going to, I don’t know—” She’s only ever talked about this in bits and pieces—to her lawyer, her therapist. Now, the whole thing in one go: it feels like a wave. “Stab him, I guess,” she says. Then, harsher: “Stab him in the throat.” She holds out her scarred palm again. “I got this instead.”

Maeve shrugs.

“After all that, he goes on tour and dies in a hotel bar.”

“Nature turns to chaos,” Anna says. “Always.”

They both stand there in the hall without moving. Maeve doesn’t open her door.

“How’d you ever manage to leave?” Anna asks finally.

“Most people only ask why I stayed.”

“That’s a garbage question.” Anna reaches for Maeve’s hand and Maeve suddenly wonders about the husband back home—the insistent, twice-daily calls and why Anna might need a break. Might need whatever she has going with Dan.

“Hey.” Anna gives the hand a squeeze. “Listen. Want me to sleep over?” She breaks into the beginnings of a smile. “Come on, I could just take the room next to you. So you’re not alone.”

It’s a perfect offer, but Maeve hesitates. She wants to be fine, to believe they will be fine. She’s about to be a grown-up and say No for real when they hear the creak of the stairwell door. Maeve glances to the dark hall. She looks back at Anna.

“This can’t be him again? Like last night—” Her brow furrows. “Can it?”

But she’s right: it’s Sim who appears, his face a carved shadow in the light of his own lantern. He’s carrying the whiskey bottle in his other hand.

“Everything all right, ladies?”

He’s talking to Maeve, his eyes on her.

“I’ll get my things,” Anna says. She looks at Sim oddly, then at Maeve, before heading off to the stairs. Her own room is one floor up.

There’s a brief, awkward silence as they both watch her go. When the stairwell door closes behind her, Sim turns back to Maeve.

“Here. You left this downstairs.” He gestures to his coat pocket: the hat she borrowed peeks out of it, just the fur trim. “Go on,” he says. “Take it, my hands are full.” When she doesn’t immediately reach for him, he steps closer. “Go on.”

It’s uncomfortable just standing there. After a moment, Maeve draws the hat from his pocket.

“I don’t really need it,” she says.

“Hang it on the knob,” Sim says. “If you leave your door unlocked.”

There’s a pause as she takes this in. She moves back, thinking to put a little distance between them, but her heel hits the wall behind her, and he steps closer.

“I’m pretty tired,” Maeve says.