The Arrangement Anthology 1(143)

Sean glances over his shoulder at me, on his way to the bar on the other side of the hotel room. He stops. The way his eyes crinkle in the corners gives him away. It’s a brief squint, like pain crawling up from deep within and trying to consume him. Sean swallows it back down. “Are you sure you want to know?” His voice is steady, cold, and utterly detached.

It feels like the icy hands of a ghost that’s walked up behind me are touching my shoulders. I suck in air and step toward him. “Tell me.”

Sean didn’t expect that answer. I can see it in his eyes. He turns away from me and heads toward the bar. After pouring a drink, he reaches for his laptop. The screen flickers to life. He taps the keys and clicks before turning it toward me. “Read.”

I glance down at the headline from one of the country’s largest newspapers—SEAN FERRO ACCUSED OF MURDERING WIFE AND UNBORN CHILD. I reach for the computer and scan the article, but I don’t see what I’m looking for. It’s more of what Gabe told me about Sean appearing cold and detached, about how he didn’t look grief-stricken. The article ends with a link to a follow up story. I click through the articles one by one, watching pictures of Sean age like years are passing rather than months. I feel his gaze on the side of my face, but I don’t look up. I lean against the bar and set the computer down. I click through to another article. I stare at his picture, at the words and accusations, and swallow hard.

I click the final link to the last story. FERRO AQUITTED. My heart is racing, slamming into my chest. I feel sick. I try to clear away all the emotions and think. I don’t understand how they didn’t find him guilty. The paper made it sound like it was an open and shut case. Sean Ferro brutally killed his wife in a jealous rage. He left her on their bed, bleeding to death, and went to work. When he returned home that night, he called the police. All the papers said the 911 call was a hoax and that his wife had died hours before he returned home that night. There were no other suspects.

When I finish reading, I glance up at him. Sean’s gaze meets mine and fear twists inside of me. Have I misjudged him so badly that I can’t tell a messed up guy from a sociopath? Did he really do this? Sean doesn’t show emotion, but that doesn’t mean anything. Neither do I—well, not in front of people I don’t trust. I had that stone-cold look on my face when they lowered my parents into the ground. I remember people saying that it wasn’t right for me not to cry, but I didn’t. Not then. They didn’t see my tears or hear my sobs. Sean’s the same way. I know he is, so lack of emotion doesn’t mean what the papers say it means.

“This isn’t true.” I push down the laptop screen and keep my gaze locked with Sean’s. It’s a statement, a fact. There’s information missing from the papers, of course. But there are also things that Sean never shared about this. I see the secrets burning in his eyes.

His eyebrow twitches. Sean shakes his head and looks down. Dark hair falls into his eyes. “You’re naïve, Avery.”

“You’re hiding something, Sean. You’d rather let people think you killed your wife than tell the truth?”

Sean stares at me. My words seem to grip him in a way that makes him anxious. I’m too close, and he can’t bear it. “The truth is there in black and white. I killed her. I’m a jealous man. Everyone knows that. I know you’ve heard I have a tempter, that I can be more than persuasive when things don’t go my way.” He steps toward me, brushing his chest into mine. I swallow hard, but don’t back away. “When are you going to get it through your head that I’m not the guy you think I am?”

“You’re exactly who I think you are. You’re cowering behind this…” I’m yelling, waiving my hands around as I speak. “This manifestation of lies.”

He laughs. The dark, rich, sound sends a chill down my spine. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

“Tell me the truth.”

“The truth was printed.”

“This is only part of the story. Omissions are lies.”

Sean’s eyebrows lift. “You’re going to pull philosophical crap on me now? Unbelievable. Accept me for what I am and stop looking for things that aren’t there.” Sean shakes his head like he’s annoyed and slams his glass down on the counter. When he breathes, his back expands. His shoulders are so tense. Sean’s fingers are turning white as he grips the granite countertop. He rounds on me with his lips pressed tightly together. “I’m not your savior, Avery. There’s no knight, no horse, no happy ending—not with me. That shit isn’t real.”