Cauchemar by Alexandra Grigorescu Read Free Book Online Page B

“Excuse me,” she croaked. She sensed him try to grab her arm as she fled toward the bathroom.
    Hannah threw up until she was hoarse and spent, until the stench of it made burning tears pool in her eyes. A terrible pressure welled up in her cheeks and behind her eyes, and she felt close to bursting. She thought suddenly of hens’ feathers packed into her throat, and could almost feel their tickle.
    â€œNot a big drinker, then?” Callum’s voice behind her, tinged in amusement, made a fresh wave of vomit crest in her.
    â€œHey, do you know that this is the women’s restroom?” She dabbed at her face with toilet paper. Then she gave up and rested her forehead against the wall of the stall.
    â€œAt this time of night, people don’t pay much attention to which restroom is which. There, now.” He rubbed circles between her shoulder blades. “Poor pet.”
    â€œIs it over?”
    He chuckled. “There’s no way of knowing. You should enjoy this moment, though.”
    To her mortification, she began to sob. “Oh God, why did I even come here? I can’t face a boat right now.” The tiles beneath her knees were already rocking.
    â€œI live five minutes away. You can clean yourself up there.”
    Hannah let herself be hoisted up against his shoulder. “I have to get home to Mae,” she murmured, then stood up straight. Remembrance speared her.
    â€œNo. You don’t.” He kissed her forehead and his lips were full and cool. “Come on.”

    His apartment was the third floor of a walk-up. Hannah glimpsed a wooden balcony through glass doors in the back, its banister faintly lit by Christmas lights.
    â€œSit down. Put your legs up.” Callum cleared a gray sofa of clothes.
    There were framed black-and-white photographs on the walls and upright wine crates brimming with books. It wasn’t quite what she’d expected.
    Hannah glared at a chipped Tiffany lamp on the glazed coffee table and groaned. “Even the light hurts.”
    He threw a red silk scarf over the lamp and the living room became anatomical. “Better?” he asked.
    Hannah nodded and lay down warily, aware that she barely knew this man and trying not to wonder if the scarf had once been wrapped around Leah’s neck or her thin wrists. Trying not to wonder how often he found souvenirs between the cushions of his couch. Hannah let her eyes close for a moment, and she was instantly visited by the phantom sensation of Mae’s palm on her forehead.
    When she was startled out of sleep, her nausea had subsided and the sky was lightening outside. Through the lingering headache, she didn’t recognize the room at first. The smell of aftershave and unwashed laundry was foreign.
    Callum was sitting in a nearby armchair with his ankles crossed, sipping slowly from a glass. She noticed that he’d taken his shirt off. He turned his head toward her sleepily. “Feeling a bit better?”
    Hannah’s foot bumped the coffee table covered with sheets of music and brandy snifters as she sat up. She nodded. “Thanks for letting me stay here.” A black knit blanket, flecked with crumbled chips, was spread over her legs. “I think I’m almost ready for the boat.”
    â€œIt’s five in the morning,” he said, sounding amused. “All the boats are tied and docked.”
    â€œStill,” she said, then trailed off. “I hate to ask, but you’ve got a boat, don’t you?” Ribs showed through tanned muscles. “I’m missing my bed right now.”
    â€œI’ve had a few too many drinks.” He shook his head. “Besides, certain animals prefer to ache on their own, but I’m a big believer in grieving in the company of others.”
    â€œIt’s not how I was raised. I don’t think there’s enough comfort in the world for what I’m feeling right now.”
    â€œThis won’t heal