She wasn't sure if that was the case, but Cade seemed awfully confident. "If you say so."
"Great. See you then. I'll get that one off to bed." He gestured at Jonathan, then walked away.
"Wait!" When he turned, Violet couldn't help but ask, "So what did he tell you?"
Cade smiled mysteriously, but his words were blunt. "That he's still madly in love with you and regrets that he's lost you forever."
For some reason, those words made her feel a sharp, unhappy little stab in her heart. He's lost you forever. Of course she knew that was what this was about, right? Still, hearing the words spoken aloud made her feel anxious and a little unhappy. She wasn't sure she wanted to be lost forever. "I'm fine with being friends with him," she confessed. "I just can't trust him with more."
"I understand," Cade said. "And I'm not judging. See you in the morning, Violet." He gave her a nod and walked away. A moment later, she heard him moving to Jonathan's side, encouraging the drunk man to get out of his chair and back to his room.
As she shut the door on them, Violet caught a few more lines of Jonathan's drunken poetry spouting. "'And this maiden,'" he rambled, "'she lived with no other thought than to love and be loved by me.'"
"Come on," Cade murmured, and then they were silent.
But Violet had the words ringing through her head for a long time afterward. She lived with no other thought than to love and be loved by me.
The "Annabel Lee" poem had a wretched ending, if she remembered correctly.
-
The next morning, promptly at nine, someone knocked at Violet's door.
She answered it, her brain full of whirling, uneasy questions. She'd had a sleepless night, filled with more dreams of Jonathan and lovemaking, and it made her restless. There was a rational reason she kept dreaming about his mouth on her skin, she told herself. She hadn't had sex in well over a year, and now she was hanging out with an ex-lover. It made plenty of sense.
Sensible explanation or not, she was still waking up aching and full of need every morning, and today was no different.
She'd dressed conservatively, though, since she didn't know what Cade's great plan was to get Jonathan out of his funk. She'd worn slacks and flats, along with a plain black boatneck sweater. It would be serviceable clothing for just about any situation. Still, when she answered the door and saw Cade standing there in another impeccable gray suit, she wondered if she was underdressed.
"Violet," he greeted her cheerfully. "You look lovely this morning."
"Thank you," she murmured, stepping out of her room and making sure the door was locked behind her. She didn't see Jonathan, and strangely enough, she was disappointed. "Are we alone?"
"No-" Cade began.
"Why? Did you want to be?" From around the corner, Jonathan walked slowly toward them, sunglasses covering his eyes. He scowled at Cade, who only gave her an oblivious smile.
"Why, no," Violet said, surprised. "I was just curious. What crawled up your ass and died?"
"Everything, if my brain is any judge of things," Jonathan said bluntly. "My head is f**king killing me."
"That's your own fault." She couldn't stop staring at his hair. It was an absolute disaster, and several days' worth of beard growth was lining his jaw. He looked like a mess. A deeply, deeply hungover mess. So she increased the volume of her voice. "I'm starving. Shall we go down and eat?"
Cade offered her his arm with a smile, and she took it.
Jonathan just scowled at both of them.
When they got to the hotel dining room, Cade insisted on pulling her chair out for her so she could sit down. That earned him a sharp word from Jonathan. What was Cade's game? He seemed unruffled by Jonathan's increasingly sour mood, but it had to be an act of some kind. She spread her napkin on her lap, curious, and watched the men.
Jonathan more or less slumped in his chair and put a hand to his forehead. It was clear he was feeling his drinks. Cade, however, seemed cheerful and alert.
When the waitress came over, Jonathan ordered whiskey.
"Um, I'm n-not sure we s-serve it this early," the girl stammered, looking at him with alarm.
Cade frowned at him. "Are you sure you want to do that? We need you sober."
"Fuck off," Jonathan told him and then pointed at the waitress. "Whiskey. Hundred-dollar tip for you if you bring it in the next two minutes."
"Yes, sir," she said, flushing. "Can I get anyone else a drink?"
"Orange juice," Cade told her.
"Same," Violet said, opening her menu.
"Now, Violet, remember, breakfast is on me," Cade told her, and reached over to pat her arm. He smiled at her and clasped her hand, giving it an encouraging squeeze.