Page 47 of Once Upon a Lie

Tommy Cordone, especially.

He’ll have me back in Bellevue in a fancy, newly constructed, state-of-the-art tower just like Rapunzel, and I’ll never get to serve Shane an Asiago bagel while pretending to be aloof ever again.

Wow, Teeny. What a detailed little fantasy you’re panicking over.

Straightening my spine, I fight the urge to melt into his hand at the small of my back as he shuffles me through the traffic to the front, where a crowd has gathered at a makeshift pulpit at the front desk. Rita stands in front of everyone like she’s about to deliver a State of the Union address, while her husband, Ken, stands beside her, still wearing his Fortune Heating and Cooling polo and looking incredibly sheepish.

As far as I’m concerned, though, he’s not bahhhing nearly enough.

“Residents of the Magnolia,” Rita begins, “please, rest assured there is no structural damage to the building. A rope malfunction occurred during a routine rooftop installation of our new AC unit, which you know is done every ten years in the off-season for your convenience. A structural engineer has confirmed that the property is secure.”

“Routine?” I whisper under my breath, outrage slowly building. “He dropped a metal cube of death through my glass door!”

Rita hears me—fucking good—and her smile is tight. “Valentina, dear! I promise your condo will be fully restored. Insurance and contractors have already been contacted.”

“Great,” I say sweetly, picking yet another piece of glass from my hair and tossing it to the tile floor. “Maybe they can throw in trauma counseling.”

Someone claps. I think it’s Denny, but I’m not entirely sure.

“Well, yes. Of course. We’ll chat privately, dear, after the conference, if you like.”

“Mm-hmm,” Shane hums behind me, suggesting he knows she’s full of shit just like I do. That’s an offer made with the incentive of saving face, not righting a wrong.

Stanley yells out about mail delivery delays, but Rita ignores him and gestures toward a man in a construction vest to speak. “Mr. McKinley. Please, explain. And truly, if you wouldn’t mind dumbing it down for the . . . civilians.”

Shane’s startled laugh sounds like a snort, and I swear, it endears him to me even further.

“Hi, everyone. My name is Harold McKinley. I’m a structural engineer with the city, and after a very thorough look at the building damage and the blueprints, I can confirm that the building is safe.” He meets my eyes. “You’re the one in the condo that was damaged, correct?”

“Yes.” I nod, agreeing with the understatement of the century. “Valentina Cordone.”

“Your condo will need to stay vacant until the repairs are complete.”

I nod. “Yeah, I mean, my balcony doors are literally gone. Doesn’t seem habitable.” The me of an hour ago would have said that in my head, but the traumatized version of me wants to verbalize.

Rita clasps her hands, radiating sympathy that’s downright fake. She cares more about Ken Fortune’s business than trying to make sure all of us are actually okay. “We’ll take care of everything swiftly, Valentina. You have my word.”

Her word feels about as reliable as Ken’s rope, but I don’t have any time to question it because a man in an EMT uniform grabs my attention. “Ma’am, I would like to take a look at you, okay?”

All I can do is nod and follow his lead toward a small, quieter spot in the lobby where his bag and equipment sit. He instructs me to sit down in a chair, and Rita’s voice booms as she continues to field questions from my neighbors. The paramedic introduces himself as Matt and moves efficiently. He doesn’t waste any time, immediately checking my blood pressure and pulse and using a small light to check my pupils before confirming I’m not dizzy or nauseated or vomiting. He relaxes considerably when I confirm I never lost consciousness and even smiles when I reply to one question with a little joke.

“Do you have any pain anywhere?”

“Only emotional.”

After checking the small cuts on my arm that Shane already covered with bandages and asking me to move my fingers, my shoulders, my neck, and my feet, he declares me stable and offers to take me to the hospital just to be on the safe side.

I decline. He nods and finishes packing up his medical bag. “I also recommend that someone stay with you tonight, okay? And if anything changes, head straight to the ER.”

I nod, but I don’t have an answer for anything. Who will stay with me, where I’ll stay. My family would agitate any underlying injury without a doubt, and Alfred would be so freaking worried for no reason. None of my options really sound that appealing.

Talk about a freaking mess.

“Hey.”

Shane’s voice comes from my side, quiet, like he’s been there longer than I realized.

“Everything check out okay?”