know.’
He reached for her hand, held it in his, like he had when they were young. ‘Do you want to keep this baby?’
She didn’t have to think about it at all. She nodded.
A long beat. ‘OK.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘You did the right thing coming to me. I’ll always help you, whatever it is, wherever I am. I’m glad you knew that.’
‘I didn’t know …’ She paused, her heart pounding. ‘After what happened—’
‘Don’t.’ He put a finger to her lips. ‘All that’s gone, it’s over.’
She shook her head. ‘How can it be? How can something like that ever be over?’
‘By letting it go.’ Robert’s voice was fierce. ‘We’ve paid our dues, Lana–we did what we had to and then we moved on.’ He couldn’t look at her. ‘There was no other choice. We both had to survive.’
‘It was my choice, though, wasn’t it? I forced us to do what we did—’
‘Stop.’ He stood up, paced to the window and looked out. ‘I put us in that position, remember? Don’t you ever dare forget it.’
‘I won’t assign blame.’
‘Then stop blaming yourself.’ He turned round, eyes blazing. ‘Your brother’s dead, Lana. Dead. It was ten years ago. He’s gone, he’s not coming back. We’ve served our punishment.’ He indicated the space between them. ‘Can’t you see that?’
She forced back tears. ‘I wish I couldn’t. I’m sorry, Robbie.’
He held up a hand.
‘No, let me finish. I’m sorry for everything you were pulled into, for my short-sighted, thoughtless decisions and my selfishness. But most of all I’m sorry for us. I’ve never admitted it before, not even to myself, but I should never have walked out on you that night. Never. I regret it every single second and will until the day I die.’
He came to her, knelt and took her hands. The distance between them folded away like paper; the ocean of time passed emptied dry.
As he opened his mouth to speak, her cell rang.
‘It’s my agent,’ she told him.
He got to his feet, the moment broken. ‘Pick it up.’
‘I can’t, I’m not ready.’
‘Lana, you can. I’m here. OK? I won’t let anything happen to you.’
She held the blinking phone in her palm. ‘Do you trust this person?’ he asked. ‘She’s my friend.’
‘Then get her out here,’ he instructed. ‘You can’t hide for ever. And we can’t do this by ourselves.’
Lana soaked for a long time in the spa tub. Robert had given her the Pagoda Luxury Suite, a revelation of a room thousands of feet in the air, where the tip of the tulip punctured the sky. She was stunned by the size of it–with its separate living, dining and sleeping areas it was half as big again as her own living quarters in Cole’s LA mansion.
He had brought her up an hour before, swiping a gold card to let them in, and taken her to the unbelievable panorama, excited to see her reaction. One entire wall was a curved window looking out to the dazzle of the Strip. Together they had stood, watching the lights. She had wanted badly to hold his hand.
‘I need to find Elisabeth, explain all this,’ he’d said, avoiding her gaze.
‘Of course.’ She’d felt bad. This was a whole new imposition.
‘I’ll have some food sent up, something to drink.’
She had smiled gratefully. ‘Thank you.’ It wasn’t enough.
‘You must be tired. Take a bath, have a rest. Do you need anything …?’ He’d looked down at her stomach. ‘Sorry, I don’t know much about …’
She’d laughed. ‘Neither do I, as it happens. But, no, thanks, I feel good.’
He’d seemed relieved. ‘OK. So …’ He’d looked about him. ‘OK.’ This time they’d both laughed, nervously. ‘I’ll let you know when your friend gets here.’
‘That would be great.’ She’d wanted him to stay, knew he couldn’t.
‘I’ll be back.’ He’d scribbled down a three-digit number. ‘Any problems, use the phone.’
‘All right.’
He had touched her arm when he’d said goodbye. Now, like a teenager, she kept tracing the spot, expecting the mark to show on her skin somehow, so hot was the imprint he’d left behind.
She submerged herself in the fragrant bubbles, letting the afternoon go. Exploring the little silver-capped bottles contained at one end in a reed basket, she washed her hair with a jasmine shampoo and lathered her body, moving in slow, deliberate circles over her tummy.
‘We’ll sort this,’ she told the person inside. ‘You’ll see.’
Afterwards she patted herself dry with a soft towel, ran a comb through her hair and wrapped herself in one of the hotel’s downy white robes. She padded round the rooms for a while, opening cherrywood drawers and closets, fingering the cream silk hangers and the little perfumed sachets hooked on to each one. The linens were crisp and fresh, scented with orange blossom; pillows and cushions were stacked up on the bed, cool to the touch; and beneath her bare feet the plush lilac carpet was thick and soft. She fought an overwhelming desire to sleep.
In the living area a wall-to-wall media centre enclosed a plasma TV, stereo and Mac. Lana fiddled with the cluster of remotes, marvelling at the black glass doors that slid aside to reveal a series of screens, then panicking when they all at once came to life at deafening volume.
‘Shit shit shit!’ She punched some more buttons and the thing died.
There was a knock at the door. Surely Rita hadn’t arrived already? She checked the mantel clock. No, too soon.
Tentatively she peered through the eyehole. It was room service.
Robert had sent up a feast: a sticky platter of barbecue ribs, mini spring rolls and crispy duck with cucumber; silver domes housing wild herb salads, chicken in a lemon sauce with swimming fat green olives, strips of beef in rich black bean sauce, prawns with fresh ginger and spring onion–and the final one, a cheeseburger and fries. She laughed.
It was way too much but, then, she realised sadly, he didn’t know what she liked to eat these days. She took a little from each plate and, feeling comfortably full, poured herself a mug of steaming green tea. With her legs tucked up under her, she settled back to watch an old episode of Frasier.
A half hour later, fighting sleep, she forced herself to dress
