Chapter 57

I’m still not feeling this place is suited to the man I know, but I understand some of the connections. It’s in the fine details of his belongings and personal choices within these walls, and I no longer doubt that it belongs to him. His secret bolthole and a place so special it means something to have brought me with him. I believe him when he says he allows only a few he trusts to come here.

Last night I poured over his book collection while teasing him relentlessly and realised the authors reflect the ones he has lying in the apartment over the club. He has every Stephen King book in existence, for a start. Duplicates here. The eclectic collections have hints of things I know he likes, and the CD variety is the same music he plays in the office. Alexi knows what he likes and is consistent. He doesn’t deviate. Little clues to remind me none of this is a lie.

I roll away from him gently and slowly and work myself to the edge of the mattress, where I can step off the bed