CHAPTER THIRTY- DANNY
I can’t look at him.
It’s not fair, it’s not gonna help anything, it’s not gonna make anything right. But I can’t look at him.
So in the ensuing silence, I look at my phone. I contact the new hotel we’ll be staying at and text the information to the driver, even though he’s on the other side of the glass right behind my head. I can’t be bothered to speak about mundane details right now.
Christine is pressed up against me, Alec is so far away in this moment he might as well not be here, and I don’t know where I’m at.
No clue where I’m at.
So for lack any idea of what to do next, I pet Christine’s hair, lean my face down, right next to her forehead, and say, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”
It’s no good saying ‘I’m sorry you lost the baby’ because sorry will never be enough and it wasn’t my fault anyway. I had nothing to do with it.
But not being there—that was my fault. That’s something I caused. Something I could’ve fixed. Something that mattered.
I would not have made her happy or made her forget the shit deal she was handed, but being there would’ve made a difference. Even if it was just to run interference between the two of them or keep Alec at home more.
There’s no way he would’ve taken back up with Eliza if I was there.
Maybe that’s giving myself more credit than I deserve or maybe it’s just the truth.
I wouldn’t let him walk out. I wouldn’t have allowed him to distance himself. And I wouldn’t have let Christine’s anger and resentment fester into… betrayal.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Christine replies.
I catch Alec’s response to that out of the corner of my eye. He takes a deep breath and holds it. Like he’s trying to prevent the tired sigh that wants to escape.
He hasn’t earned that sigh and he knows it.
It occurs to me that Old Danny would take advantage of this situation. Old Danny would say something like, “Let me take you home, Christine.” And Old Danny would take her home. Back to the dirty city we grew up in. Back to the old life we lived. Back to a time when there was no Alec.
Because that’s what I wanted, right? That’s all I wanted before Christine got hurt and Alec called me to go take care of her.
But that’s not what I want now.
I’m not sure where this is going. I’m not sure the three of us are as tight or as strong as we thought. I’m not sure of anything except I don’t want to go backwards.
So I say, “We’re gonna take a day.”
“A day for what?” Christine asks.
“To process,” I say, finally turning my head to meet Alec’s gaze. He lets out that breath and it is a sigh, but not the exasperated one he thought it’d be. It’s one of relief.
I’m in charge now. I might not be in charge later, but right now I call the shots because these two can’t.
That’s what makes us strong, I realize. When there are only two people in a relationship and it begins to fall apart there’s no one to step outside the situation and be objective. But when you have three, and two of you are having trouble, that third person can hold it all together. That third person can be the glue.
For a little bit, anyway.
So that’s what I do. I become the glue.
“We’re gonna get a room and relax. Alec…” I look at him. He looks like shit. “Alec needs some rest.”
“Rest.” He laughs, averting his gaze to look out the window at the passing countryside. “I’ve been resting for months, man.”
“No,” I say. Because he’s wrong and besides, he doesn’t get to decide. “You’ve been held captive for months. And before that you ”—I almost say ‘fell over a goddamn waterfall and somehow survived’. But I don’t. I just say—“were hurt.”
He looks at me, his eyes not teary, I don’t think, but very sad. He was hurt and not just from the fall.
He was hurt by Christine’s betrayal.
By Lars’ betrayal.
Hell, I’m the only one he cares about who didn’t fuck him over.
Which is so ironic, I half chuckle out a laugh.
Christine lifts her head slightly. Just enough so her eyes can find mine. What’s funny? she’s asking with that look.
I shake my head in reply. Nothing’s funny. It’s just... ironic.
She forces a smile of understanding and goes back to hiding her face in my chest.
I pet her hair again. Because I love her and her hurt is hurting me in this moment. I know it’s years late. I know there’s no way to take back my mistakes. Time doesn’t ever go backwards.
But the cool thing about time is that it allows for change.
That hurt she feels over losing their baby can’t be erased. The hurt Alec feels over being betrayed can’t either. But with time… with time we can replace those feelings with new ones.
The rest of the ride back into London is quiet.
We’re thinking, I guess.
I know I am.
I’m thinking about the past, mostly. Those days and weeks on the beach in the Cook Islands. Not the ones that just happened, but the ones that came before that.
The good ones.
It’s gonna be a rough climb back up the mountain. It’s gonna take a while. But we can find that place again.
We can find that… peace.
And when we pull up to the London Ritz-Carlton I make a decision.
We start looking for it again today.
I untangle Christine from my body and open the door just as the driver is getting out. “Meet me inside,” I say, looking from her face to his.
They stare back at me blankly, but I don’t add anything else. Just grab my backpack and get out of the car.
My ambassador meets me at the door.
How she knows who I am, I don’t know. But they always know who their guest is. I assume, since the three of us have stayed at the Ritz more times than I can count, they have my picture in their database. At any rate, she greets me.
“Good afternoon Mr. Night. I’m Jessica, your ambassador. Your room is ready for you.” Mr. Night is my old alias from back in the peaceful days. Funny, or maybe just continuing irony, that I’m now referring to those times as the peaceful days.
“Good afternoon,” I say. “My friends are coming,” I say, nodding to the revolving door where Christine and Alec appear, coming through separately. “We’re going to need clothes for Mr. Berger Can you do some shopping for me?”
“Certainly. What can I get for him?”
“I’ll give you a list.”
“Absolutely,” she says, beaming her luxury-hotel customer-service smile. “Would you like to see your room now?” she asks, just as Christine walks up and slips her arm into mine. Alec stand next to her, looking uncomfortable in his ill-fitting clothes, and pretending to smile.
There is a private elevator for all ambassador-level guests, and that’s the route we take up to the Prince of Wales penthouse in the adjoining mansion. It is opulence on a grotesque level, but that’s what we need right now.
We need to be reminded of just who and what we are.
That is my job in the triangle today.
Ironic, yet again. Because historically it has always been Alec who wore this hat. I don’t look the part, I don’t act the part, and I don’t want the part.
But sometimes we all gotta take one for the team.