She apparently finds my silence encouraging, grabbing my hand. “Listen, will you forgive me if I get you a new security team?” Rodriguez looks hurt.
“No,” I tell her.
“But—”
“You got methissecurity team,” I point out. “And then youslept withmy security team. So, no, I’m not letting you pick out my new guards.” I shake her off me. “You’re fired. Get out.”
She pouts. “But—”
My last fibre of control snaps. “For God’s sake, will everyone just get the Hell out of my house!” I shout. I’m shaking. The Polaroid drops out of my hand and flutters to the carpet.
There’s a few seconds of silence, then the front door opens, and everyone starts to file out. I swallow hard, feeling tears roll down my cheeks. I lift a hand to swipe them away.
There’s a sudden flash of light. I look up, and see the policeman facing me in the doorway, holding his phone up and snapping a nice little shot of my breakdown. He flashes me a smarmy grin. “‘Preciate it, Briar Saint.”
I step forward to grab the phone out of his hand, but he slams the door shut behind him.
I stare at the door for a second, breathing hard. Then all of the energy drains out of me, and I sink to the ground, wrapping my arms around my knees. The Polaroid lies on the floor by my elbow. The note on the back stares up at me.
Soon, we’ll be sleeping next to each other forever.
I bury my face in my hands. I’m so screwed.