The Break(87)

I take a minute and try to clean myself off with the Kleenex in my purse. And then I walk down the hall, and with a trembling finger I press the elevator button. Someone on the floor below says something in what sounds to me like Swedish. Is it Henri? I almost try to find him and see if he can help me get cleaned off, but then I decide against it. The last thing I need is Henri enjoying staring at me in his office, wiping down my face. Instead I step into the elevator and down I go, the thing vibrating and hiccupping over the floors like it always does. In the lobby I spill onto the checkerboard floor. Henri isn’t at his post at the desk; maybe he’s still upstairs. I’m hurrying across the floor when I see Harrison enter the lobby, color from the cold high on his cheeks.

I do a double take. He’s staring right at me, coming fast across the floor.

“What are you doing here?” I ask. I almost tell him that Rowan’s sleeping with Lila and he better be quiet if he’s planning to go see Gabe, but instead he says, “I need to talk to you.”

To me? How did he even know I was here? What happened with Elena has sobered me a little, but I’m still too tipsy to figure this out.

“Is that blood?” Harrison asks, but there isn’t concern in his voice.

“Um, yes,” I say. “How did you know I was here?” I ask him. Did Gabe call him? “I’ll tell you what happened,” I say slowly, trying to steady myself. “It was insane, actually, what just happened with Elena.”

“Gabe’s mom?” he asks.



“Yeah,” I say. “But I don’t want to talk here and Henri will be back soon eavesdropping on us. And I want to talk to you, too, about what happened today with us. Can we please go somewhere?”

“It’s freezing out,” Harrison says, scanning the lobby. “I don’t want to go back out there.”

“Fine,” I say with a sigh, resigned to doing this all in front of Henri, who will undoubtedly be back any minute.

But then Harrison says, “Let’s go down to the billiards room. There’s a bathroom down there and we can clean you off.”

“Okay,” I say. I follow him toward the door leading to the basement. Inside the stairwell I look up to where I was just hanging over the railing five flights above us. I shudder. That fall would have killed me. “Elena just attacked me,” I say to Harrison as we descend the steps into the basement.

“What?” he asks, a few steps in front of me, not waiting for me to catch up. His feet are pounding the marble stairs. At the bottom he looks back, a quizzical expression on his face. “Seriously?” he asks.

“Seriously,” I say. “It was nuts. I went to see Gabe and Rowan because, well, I had too many drinks with Kai in the neighborhood and I guess in the moment I thought it was a great idea to come tell Gabe I think he needs to tell Rowan about Gray.”

Harrison whips around. There’s shock on his face. “Why would you ever do that?” he asks.

I trot down the next few steps and meet him at the bottom. It’s freezing down here. “I don’t know, okay? I guess I wasn’t convinced that any of this is the right thing, and I was worried maybe Sylvie’s wrong—”

“And you know best?”

“You don’t have to be rude,” I say.

He shakes his head. “Sometimes you seem so mature,” he says slowly, like he’s realizing the most profound thing. “And sometimes you seem like a child.”



“Well, if that’s so bothersome, maybe you shouldn’t date twenty-two-year-olds,” I snap.

He raises his eyebrows and laughs, and the laugh is cruel enough to hit me right in the gut. “Oh God, June, you’re probably right,” he says sarcastically. “You’re very wise.”

I put my hands on my hips, aware that move isn’t making me look any older. “My youth never seemed to bother you while you were taking me out on the town on your arm.”

“Exactly,” he says, exasperated. “That’s what I can’t believe about all of this.”

“All of what?” I ask.

“You breaking this off,” he says, waving a gloved hand into the cold, damp air of the basement.

“Keep your voice down,” I say, because we’re right in the stairwell and it’s echoey in here. I move past him toward the door that leads to the billiards room and shove it open. “Is the heater broken?” I ask. It feels like it’s in the midforties. I wrap my arms around myself, grateful I wore my warmest coat. It’s dark down here, and smells like no human has been around in weeks. I can just make out the table in the center of the room. My hand fumbles for the light on the wall—I think I remember where it is, but I keep brushing my hand against the wall and nothing hits. “I can’t find the light,” I say. He’s right next to me now, too close for someone I don’t like at this moment. “I can’t see anything,” I say again, frustrated, because he’s just standing there not trying to help me find the switch. My eyes start to adjust a little, and I can make out his shadowy outline. Finally he makes a move to help me. He swipes a hand over the wall and flicks on the switch.

Light floods the room.

There’s nowhere to sit in here, so we just stand by the pool table, awkwardly facing off. Harrison has his arms crossed over his chest. The circles beneath his eyes are darker than usual; he gets like this when he’s on a big deal at work and can’t sleep, or when something is falling through that he really wanted.