Hannah didn't know—how could she?—what this meant for tomorrow.
As she helped me into the bedroom, I glimpsed a pendant resting near the hollow of her throat. It was bright against her pale skin.
"The lock," I mumbled. More like three of the locks; I was seeing triple. Still, I knew exactly what it was—the padlock necklace I bought for Hannah in Estes.
"I got it engraved," she said. She brought my hand to the smooth metal and I traced a finger over the letters... H... M.
Hannah.
Matt.
I collapsed onto the bed and reeled into darkness.
CHAPTER 26
Hannah
_____
I WOKE WITH a start. The bed was cold. The room was dark and quiet and it took me a moment to remember where I was: in a cabin in Geneva, NY.
Under the bathroom door, I saw a strip of light.
God, Matt...
I sat up against the headboard and gathered the quilt around myself. Was he sick, or just using the bathroom? Did he have a secret stash of alcohol in the cabin? I stared into the darkness and tried to empty my mind.
Inside, I could feel the chipped fragments of my heart. My poor, beautiful lover... what had agony done to him?
He was twenty pounds lighter, at least, and his eyes were wild and glassy. His handsome features were scruffy with stubble. His hair grew long down the back of his neck.
Worst of all, though, was the total absence of his proud spirit. Shuffling around the cabin, refusing to meet my eyes... he was broken.
My intentions dissolved when I saw him. Why did I think I could keep my distance? Why would I want to? Love is relentless.
The bedside clock read 5:12 a.m. No wonder I felt like a train wreck.
I slid out of the sheets and pulled on my tunic top. I had pajamas in my suitcase, but my suitcase was in the car and I had no desire to step away from Matt last night, even after he faceplanted into bed.
I didn't want him to wake up alone. Not ever again.
I padded to the bathroom door and listened.
"Matt?"
Silence.
I knocked gently.
"I'm fine," he said, his voice quiet. It sounded like he was on the floor. I crouched and flattened both hands to the door.
"Are you sure?"
"Mm, I—"
I heard scuffling, then silence.
Last night, watching Matt breathe greedily in his sleep, I wondered if I should be worried about alcohol poisoning. Worry gnawed at me again as I listened through the bathroom door.
"Matt? Are you sick?"
"Hangover," he said, "it's nothing."
His tone definitely said—leave me alone.
He was probably puking his guts out.
Sure enough, I heard more scuffling followed by retching. The sounds were hoarse and painful. I nuzzled closer to the door. Typical Matt, suffering alone.
Why did he hide from me?
By now he should have known that not even a loaded gun could drive me away.
I was fully awake, so I began to pace around the bedroom. I pulled on my leggings. I made the bed. I'm a productive worrier.
The toilet flushed, but Matt didn't emerge.
I roamed through the cabin and did a little more cleaning, gathering laundry and emptying ashtrays. I changed Laurence's water and fed him a few raisins. Poor little guy, the things he must have seen...
My eyes strayed toward the kitchen table with its stacks of pages. I felt a familiar stab of betrayal. I thought of Matt and Pam, conspiring to get The Surrogate to me. A love story. A lie story. I remembered how I felt at the cusp of Matt's unwritten sex scene: I wanted it to happen, the deception didn't matter.
Was Matt trying to manipulate my feelings about what he'd done, or was he simply trying to explain himself?
My heart wasn't made of paper. That was fiction. This was my life.
I was making my way back to the bedroom when I heard a cry.
"Matt!" Fuck this hiding bullshit. I barged into the bathroom.
Matt cowered in the corner, hugging himself and staring at the floor. The smell of vomit hung in the air.
"Oh god, baby," I whispered, kneeling at his side and stroking the hair back from his brow. His whole body shook. He was soaked with sweat.