“I . . . no. We can’t.”
“I think we can.” He reaches out for me, and I let him.
“I need to think.”
“Sure. Think. Think out loud.” His curved lips press against my throat. “Think while I kiss you. Everywhere.” I laugh. Then his fingers drop again to the button of my jeans. My breath stops with how much I want this. With him. “Can I . . . I have this dream that you let me— ”
“If I . . .” I pull back to look at his eager, happy face. Suddenly, I’m just as happy as he is. It’s going to happen. The two of us. Me and him and a chessboard. “Would I need to leave?”
“No.”
“But we can’t train together for . . .”
“Then we won’t. I’ll train in this room. You take the rest of the house.”
“But still— I know your strategies, Nolan. I know your prep. And . . .” I reach up to hold his handsome, stubborn, delighted face between my hands. Bite his lower lip because I cannot help myself. “This is a mess. Why are you so happy?”
His smile doesn’t waver. “You don’t know?”
My heart revs up to a million. Nearly beats out of my chest with everything that I’m feeling for him. I don’t want to leave. I want to be with him. I want to sleep with him in this bed. I want to wake up to him pulling me into himself. I want to eat the overcooked pasta he makes and share his toothpaste and know his moods by heart.
“Nolan,” I whisper against his lips.
“Mallory.”
“Don’t be alarmed,” I say, mostly to myself. “But I think that I might be— ”
The door slams open.
“Oh my God, oh my little baby Jesus, guys, did you see— Oh, sorry.”
Nolan groans in frustration. It takes a minute for us to disentangle and turn to Tanu. Who just barged in without knocking.
“Koch?” Nolan asks. His voice is raspy. His hand reaches out to touch my waist, as though he cannot bear to be apart. I lean into him, because I can.
“He cheated! That birdbrained bitch! We should have known he was using engines!”
I grin. “We really should have.”
“And that TikTok? Dick of dicks, much?”
Nolan blinks. “What TikTok?”
Ten seconds later, Koch (@bigKoch; I despise him) is talking in front of a wall that boasts an unironic oil portrait of himself. His German accent is thicker than usual.
“I did not cheat. The images were doctored, and my lawyers have already gotten in touch with FIDE. I’ll be going to Venice to hand Sawyer his ass.”
Behind me, Nolan snorts softly.
“Oh, he just posted a new one,” Tanu says. “Let’s see how low he can go.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if Sawyer’s team was behind this. He’s very scared of facing me, because he knows he’ll likely lose. He has been trying to prevent it from happening. For instance, he not only got his girlfriend a spot on the Challengers but also paid for Greenleaf’s fellowship at Zugzwang. This is a clear attempt to manipulate who would be his opponent and to avoid me, the strongest player, in order to keep his World Championship title.”
I scoff, indignant. “Can he just go out there and say things that are factually false? Legally, I mean?”
I glance at Tanu, who’s pre-law, hoping for a “Hell no.” But all I find is a wide-eyed, guilty look that makes every last trace of warmth freeze inside me.
“He is wrong,” I say, half statement, half question. “It’s not true. Nolan has nothing to do with my fellowship. He didn’t get me into the Challengers. He . . .”
I turn around. Nolan is silent, dark eyes even darker than usual. I shake my head. “No.” I swallow, and it’s glass down my throat. “No.”
“Mal. Nolan, I’m so sorry,” Tanu blurts out.
“Will you leave for a minute?” Nolan asks her.
“I had no idea he was going to mention that— I didn’t think he even knew— ”
“Tanu,” Nolan repeats, and in a heartbeat she’s gone, and the door closes, and my brain careens. This is . . . no. Nope. Fuck this.
“Did Defne know?” I ask. “That you were paying? Because she vaguely mentioned multiple donors to me, that— ”
“She knew,” he says calmly.
I clench my teeth. “Right. Well, Tanu did, too, so I’m guessing Emil was in on it, too, and since it reached Koch— ”
“I had to disclose my donation to Zugzwang to FIDE. I assume that’s how he found out. But this has nothing to do with us, we— ”
“This has everything to do with us.” The last six months have been a party, and I’m the last to get here. Or maybe I was here all along, blindfolded and locked in a closet. “Was it fun, coming to our house, knowing you were keeping the lights on?”
Maybe I should be grateful, but all I feel is deceived. Manipulated. Like when Dad kissed a woman in the arbiter lounge of a Hoboken tournament and told me it was nothing.
You lied to me. How could you?
“You really believe I’d ever think about it in those terms, Mallory?” His fist clenches and releases. He runs a hand through his hair. “You played the most beautiful chess I’d ever seen. I wanted to give you the opportunity to— ”
“How did you even know I was going to accept it?”
“I didn’t. I just hoped. You worked in a shitty garage, and needed out.”
“What do you even know about my shitty garage— Oh my God.” I take a step back like he punched me in the solar plexus. “Did you somehow have Bob fire me?”
His arms widen in irritation. “Who the hell is Bob?”
I don’t believe him. I can’t believe him, not anymore. “Did you have anything to do with me losing my job back in the summer?”
“I didn’t, but I fucking wish I had, Mallory.” He huffs impatiently. “I wish I could take credit for shaking you out of the life you settled for.”
I gasp. “I provide for my family, Nolan! I didn’t settle, I needed stability for them.” My tone is well past civility. He steps closer, nostrils flaring, face lowered an inch from mine.
“It’s easier like that, isn’t it? To hide behind them,” he tells me. “Use your family as a nice little cushion between yourself and real life.”
I lift my chin. “How dare you? My mom is sick and my sisters are— ”
“Taken care of, as of right now. As of a while. And yet, you continue to use them as an excuse to do absolutely nothing with your life, with your talent, with this thing between us— ”
“ ‘This thing between us’? You mean, the fact that we’ve fucked? Because clearly that means nothing. Or the fact that you’ve been lying to me for months? The fact that you manipulated me to go back to chess, to do the Challengers, to be your opponent at the World Championship? Because I can’t imagine what else you might be referring to— ”
“I love you,” he says plainly. Not a desperate plea, but a calmly stated fact. His eyes are so close, I can count the different shades of dark in them, and it makes me see red.
It’s not the first time someone has professed to love me after an ocean of lies.