Rolling in the Deep by Rebecca Rogers Maher Page B

almost step out to clean them up. But then I remember it’s not my job anymore.
    “I think someone might have called the news places. You know, to tell them about the party?” she says. “I guess that makes for a good story. But Timmy wouldn’t let them inside. I got mobbed on my way in, though.”
    “Did you talk to them?”
    She shakes her head. “No. But I don’t know if I can get away with that twice. They’re so pushy, and I feel bad.”
    “Don’t feel bad,” I say automatically. But I understand. “It’s like we kind of owe them, right? Like, we got the money, the least we can do is let people hear the story and feel good about it or whatever.”
    Holly looks into my eyes again, and there is a recognition there, that she didn’t have to explain herself, that I just knew. I feel it too—the relief of that. This whole thing is so ridiculously disorienting. It’s like being able to breathe again, being with her. Knowing that she understands.
    She’s about two feet away from me. It would be easy, so easy, to lean in. To gather her in my arms.
    The need I feel right now—it’s outsized, I know that. I’m lonely up here away from everyone I know in the city, and she’s been kind to me. I had it pretty bad for her before, but it’s a thousand times worse now that we’re going through something together. Something huge and surreal that no one else fully gets.
    It just feels so strong with her, is all. So much stronger than I am at the moment.
    “Yeah,” she whispers. “That’s it.”
    I slide my hands into the back pockets of my jeans so that I won’t try to reach for her. I don’t trust myself. I can smell the citrus soap she uses. Grapefruit, I think. Something sweet and tangy that I want to get my mouth on, and I know how fucked-up that is. No woman needs a man trying to climb all over her when she’s obviously in distress.
    When we both are.
    I take a deep breath. “I can walk you to your car if you like.”
    “Okay.” She clears her throat and takes a single step back from me, thank God. “But won’t it be worse if we’re together?”
    In so many ways, yes.
    I think for a moment. “I came in from the back, by the stockroom. We could try that way, and then I’ll drive you to your car. Would that work?”
    She nods, and pulls her purse strap higher up on her shoulder. It drags the edge of her T-shirt aside, and exposes the slim strap of her pale pink bra. I want to run the tip of my finger over that satin strap. I want to follow it down, inside the neckline of her soft shirt.
    I look away, not soon enough, and head into the store.
    The aisles are crowded now with carts. We have to weave our way through them, like a dance. It’s all I can do not to take Holly’s hand.
    The stockroom is empty. Racks and shelves of bulk goods crowd all four walls. Our footsteps echo on the concrete floor as we pass through one last time.
    I’ll never have to step foot in this cold warehouse again. A door is closing on that part of my life. What it opens into, I have no idea.
    I stop at the exit. “Holly.”
    She looks at me, cautious. “Yeah?”
    “Did your lawyer tell you not to talk to me?”
    She blinks. “Why do you ask that?”
    I shift uncomfortably. “I’ve been calling you, and—”
    “I’m sorry, Ray.”
    “No, it’s okay. It’s just—”
    “No, really. I am sorry. He did tell me not to. He said you might try to…you know.”
    “Yeah,” I say. “My lawyer kind of said he might.”
    “And Drew’s dad, you know, he also…”
    “Oh.” I put a hand to my forehead.
Of course.
“Well, yeah, that makes sense. That he’d want to protect you and Drew.”
    She scoffs. “Right.”
    I pause at that, but she doesn’t elaborate.
    “I wouldn’t…I mean…Holly, I know you don’t know me that well, and you have no reason to believe this. But I told you before, I wouldn’t do that. The ticket is ours. Fifty-fifty. Okay? There’s no way I’d contest it.”
    She holds my gaze for