Slow Agony (Assassins, #2)(42)

The motel had a big sign out front which proclaimed its name in neon light up letters that managed to look both Tex-mex and Bates Hotel at the same time. But it wasn’t creepy at all, just nostalgic. Beneath the name, it read, “So close and yet so far out.” I loved it here already.

“Two beds?” said Griffin.

“I think we can manage that,” said the guy. “We’ll put you guys in Polka Dot Surprise, then.”

The room we were staying in had the original wallpaper from 1969, and, yes, it was pastel polka dot. The mattresses and furniture were all turquoise. I sprawled out on my bed, grinning at the ceiling. “I love Texas.”

Griffin just laughed at me. “I don’t think Austin is indicative of the rest of the state exactly.”

I stuck my lower lip out at him. “Don’t be a killjoy.”

He shrugged, tossing his pack on his bed.

“We could live here.”

“What?” he said.

“We could live here. There are colleges here. We could transfer and live in Austin.”

“You’ve driven in and seen the inside of one hotel room and you want to move here?”

“Fine,” I said.

“Besides, I think you’re forgetting that there isn’t really a ‘we’ anymore.”

I had been forgetting that. I rolled over on the bed. “It’s only that it feels—”

“I know,” he said. He sat down on the bed. He sighed. “You were right, you know. If you were pregnant right now it would make everything a lot worse. But you couldn’t have known something like this would happen.”

I propped myself up on one elbow. “You think you’re ready to be a father, Griffin?”

He rubbed the top of his head. “Does it matter?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“I could be,” he said. “If I had to be. I could be. I think. It’s not like money is a problem.”

Right. We were all very well off thanks to my father and the rest of Operation Wraith.

I traced patterns in the bedspread. “So... what if we just tried again?”

He got up. “I wasn’t the one who wasn’t ready to be a parent. Are you ready?”

“Well, it’s kind of a bigger commitment for me, you know.”

“I didn’t think so.” He unzipped his pack.

“I don’t know.” I sighed. “Maybe. If you were there, if we were... It’s not as if I don’t see myself having children someday. And yes, I want that to be with you.”

He yanked out a change of clothes. “I’m going to take a shower. Let’s just drop this, huh? Afterwards, we’ll walk around. We’ll try to have fun.”

“Griffin—”

“No,” he said. “We could use some fun.”

*

South Congress Avenue was like an extended Purple Fiddle. The whole street had the same eclectic atmosphere, whimsy married to shock art. It was like strolling through the coolest place I could possibly imagine. We went into funky art galleries, where the art on the walls ranged from typical landscapes to large pieces of metal sculpture. (There was even one that was made entirely of forks. I loved that one.) We went into vintage clothing stores and tried on outlandish outfits. We got coffee and sandwiches at a little bistro where the walls were covered in oddly-framed mirrors. Some were old and brass and stately, others bright and bold.

What I loved about the whole area was that it was iconoclastic and edgy, but it somehow managed to pay tribute to its traditional roots as well. Like The Purple Fiddle was tinged with bluegrass and West Virginia charm, SoCo had a Hispanic undercurrent. It was Tex Mex, and it knew it. It celebrated it. But it also twisted everything so that it felt like we’d stumbled through the looking glass and that everything had been switched from right to left. The best thing was that the whole time Griffin and I strolled the streets, it seemed as if SoCo was washing away all the complications between us. We both seemed airier, happier.

As the sun began to go down, I clutched Griffin’s arm with one hand and several shopping bags in the other.

“I could definitely live here,” I said.

He smiled down at me. “It’s kind of a big Thomas, huh?”

He got it. I beamed at him.

He held up his own shopping bag. “Let’s change into our Austin outfits and then find someplace to go to dinner.”

Good plan. Griffin had been right when he said we needed more fun. I hadn’t realized how positively grim everything had been recently. I mean, maybe it was necessary. After all, we were in danger. People had died. But having fun felt nice. I felt like I hadn’t felt this free since... Gosh. A long time.

Griffin let me change in the bathroom, while he put on his clothes in our room. I had a few different outfits, but I settled on a blue seventies-style dress. It was off the shoulder, a long ruffle hanging to my elbows and over my breasts. The skirt was made of layers of the same kind of ruffles. The dress made me feel light and pretty.

And... pure.

Which was something I wasn’t sure I’d ever been, but something I desperately wished for right then. I wished I could erase all of the things that had come before and go to Griffin fresh. Surely then we’d connect in the same magical way we had before.

I surveyed myself in the mirror. The reflection that greeted me was clean and simple. I tossed my hair and called out to see if Griffin was ready.