Chapter 29

He’d taken his pill before he went to bed; he knew he had. Two, actually. He’d taken one when he got back to the room after the pool, to force himself to crash out for as many hours as possible right then and there, and when he’d woken up with dusk turning the sky outside the bedroom window into watercolours, he’d only piddled around in the room for two hours before popping another one. Sleep, he’d told himself, would at least be merciful. Far more forgiving than memory and musing had been, anyway.

Are you mad, he’d asked himself over and over, because you ended up walking away? Or because you allowed yourself to stay and enjoy him? Are you mad because you relished the taste of his mouth? Or because you didn’t give yourself the opportunity to taste his dick? Are you even mad, he’d finally asked himself, or are you just disappointed?