Hold You Against Me (Stripped 4)

“I don’t want to think too much about this, but are you sure he didn’t mean for you two to go together? Isn’t that a thing people do? Couple’s massage or something.”

She gives a snort-laugh that still manages to sound delicate. “There’s enough money on this thing for two full days of body wraps, facials, massages, and who knows what else. Either you’re doing this with me or they offer an entirely different kind of couple’s massage at this place.”

A flush crosses my cheeks like it always does when someone mentions sex. You’d think being friends with Amy would have inoculated me to this kind of embarrassment. “Okay then, count me in.”

“I can schedule us for the day after tomorrow? After the big reveal, we’ll have something to celebrate.”

I blow out a breath. “Sounds great.”

“Hmm,” she says. “Nervous?”

This is one of the upsides of having an overprotective big sister. She knows when I need to talk. “Only a lot. People are going to take one look at it and think I’m a hack.”

“You mean the amazing, creative, breathtaking piece of art my talented sister made? Yeah, I don’t think so. They’re actually going to think it’s too good for the Grand, considering it used to be a strip club.”

“Umm, they’ll be attending a re-opening gala at said strip club.”

“Hypocrites come in all income brackets.”

“I feel like that should be on a fortune cookie.”

“And don’t worry. Actually, forget I said that. I know you’re worried. That’s part of the artistic process. But while you’re worrying, know that people who love you are going to be standing by your side tomorrow night. And we all see what a shining bright star you are.”

“That should definitely be on a fortune cookie.”

“Trust me, grasshopper. Everything will work out.”

Her words are the warmth and reassurance I need. “Thank you.”

“Anytime. Kip and I will pick you up tomorrow night at six.”

“I can drive.”

“Ha! In that neighborhood? Kip would have a heart attack.”

I’m not sure it’s Kip who would have the heart attack, but I can go along with this. “Okay, pick me up at six. Then the next morning, all-day spas. I want something completely wild and luxurious, like a gold-leaf body wrap.”

“Done.” I hear the smile in her voice. “Now get some sleep.”

“Good night.”

I click off the phone. The orange pieces linger on the pencil ledge, uneaten. I’m not hungry anymore, but I gather them into my hand and carry them across the room. They roll and rest around the glass of water that sits there, half-empty. I take a sip, and the coolness soothes my throat. Stop thinking about ghosts.

The whole apartment is humid from the open window, the evening’s rain steeped in moonlight. I stretch beneath the sheets and curl my body around a pillow. The streetlamp winks at my window, and my eyes fall shut, again and again, snapshots in the dark.

A space between sleep and waking suspends me, turns me inside out. I can’t quite breathe, but I can’t drown. I try to pull myself awake, but exhaustion weighs me down.

Minutes pass, hours.

The sheets wrap around my limbs, trapping me. Sweat slicks my skin, but I can’t fight the heat or the damp. Can’t do anything but fight.

Giovanni’s face hovers above me, incorporeal and wavy. “You grew up,” it says, harsh and accusing.

“Wait.” I know he isn’t real, he can’t be real, but that doesn’t make me any less desperate. My arms reach out, grasping at nothing. “Don’t leave me.”

I wake up panting, alone in my apartment. A dream.

That’s all that’s left of him, of us—a memory.