“I grabbed Catherine and searched for another way out,” Elias continues. “I looked up and down that grand room, but there were no windows, no other doors. Catherine gripped my arm tightly, but she didn’t cry.” Elias’s expression softens, and Catherine’s lips spread into a watery smile. “She was more determined to live than anyone else in there. Even in that chaos her eyes reflected fire, but it was all her own.”
“The walls around us burned,” she says mournfully, “surrounding us like an embrace. I squeezed him tighter as the realization settled in—there would be no saving us. Not any of us.”
Elias puts his fist to his lips, quiet for a moment before going on. “The room became unbearably hot,” he says. “I coughed on the last of the air, knowing we’d be dead soon. I took my arm from Catherine and started toward a table. I pulled off the white linen, sending the plates and silverware crashing to the floor. I grabbed Catherine and wrapped the tablecloth around us, hoping to save our skin from the bite of the fire. It wouldn’t, of course. In just a moment we had both fallen to our knees, and when I looked over, Catherine’s skin was smeared with ash. Blisters formed on one of her perfect cheeks.”
“Please, Eli,” Catherine says, starting to cry. “No more. I can’t hear any more.”
Elias turns from her, settling his gaze on me. “It had been less than five minutes since the fire started,” he says, ignoring Catherine’s plea. “The screams were dying out. In the distance was the crackling of burning wood, the whoosh of fabric catching fire, the burst of bottles exploding. The banging—if it was ever there—had stopped. We didn’t know then, but they locked the doors in order to keep the fire from spreading through the entire hotel. I fell forward when the air was too thin to breathe, and I saw Catherine, her cheek pressed to the tile as she lay staring at me, motionless. Dead.”
He swallows hard, and when he levels his stare at me again, my heart breaks. “The heat licked at my shoes,” he says, “but I didn’t feel the fire take my skin. I didn’t feel anything until I woke up in the ballroom after it was rebuilt in all its glory. Trapped with everyone else. Forever.”
Chapter 19
We all sit silently for a moment, Catherine crying quietly, exposed. I can hear Lourdes’s ragged breaths getting stronger and more measured. The entirety of their story is catastrophic, devastating.
“I’m sorry for what happened to you,” I say, knowing it’s not enough. “I can’t imagine . . . I . . .” My voice startles Catherine, and she wipes away the tears on her cheeks, embarrassed by her emotional vulnerability. She takes out her compact and checks her reflection, sniffling hard. She snaps it shut, the click echoing in the room.
“Eli,” she says coolly. “We have to get to the ballroom. We can’t risk it now. Kenneth will be on a rampage.”
Elias isn’t convinced. “Go without me,” he tells her. “First I have to convince Audrey what a terrible idea it is to attend the party. Even if she does look smashing in that dress.” His compliment is tinged with the tone of an impending argument.
“Get to the party, Elias,” Lourdes says in a low voice. She groans, shifting on the bed. Joshua climbs to his feet to check on her, and Tanya sets the washcloth aside, but Lourdes shakes her head, letting them know she doesn’t need their help. I notice her fingers have grown back. “You too, Joshua,” she adds. “You’re bartending tonight.”
“Thank you,” Catherine announces, as if the command was made on her behalf. She walks to the door and pulls it open, then turns to me. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Audrey,” she says, smiling softly. “But I really hope I never see you again.”
I cough out a laugh, and nod. “I hope I never see you again either.” Catherine reaches her hand to Joshua, and after a concerned look in Lourdes’s direction, he takes it and they walk out together.
Elias waits near the end of the bed, his hands in his pockets, his jaw set hard. “Lourdes,” Elias starts, “she has to—”
“Yes, Eli,” she says. “I understand the stakes just as well as you do. If not more.”
“Oh, good,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “Maybe someone can fill me in.” I hate being talked about as if I’m not here. Neither of them reacts to me, caught instead in a stare-down. Finally Elias relents.
“Audrey,” Elias says, slow to look at me. When he does, color blooms on his cheeks, a sad smile deepens his dimples. “Damn.” He shakes his head. “I told you I wouldn’t want you to leave if we kept at it.”
“You were too charming,” I respond, making him laugh. I’ll miss the sound of it. It occurs to me that I love him—even if it’s still new. Still soon. This is the start of love, and not the circumstantial kind that fades, like with Ryan. In this there is acceptance and understanding. Lust and admiration. I’ve always hated good-byes, and this is no exception.
“I’ll see you around,” I say casually, even though my voice quivers. Elias puts his hand over his heart, like I’m breaking it.