London Twist: A Delilah Novella

you up.”
    “No.”
    “But she knew those men were coming—”
    “She didn’t know. She should have known. But she was trying not to. She didn’t want to face the implications of what she was involved in. Does that sound at all familiar?”
    He didn’t answer.
    She rubbed her temples. The sun was too bright. She felt the beginnings of a headache.
    “Are you hungry?” he said.
    “No.”
    “Would you like to get something to eat anyway?”
    “Why would I want that?”
    “I think you need someone to talk to. Someone who understands.”
    She thought of John. “The last time I was involved with someone who understood, it ended very badly.”
    “Did it? Would it be selfish if I were to say I’m glad he’s not here?”
    “Yes, it would be.”
    “All right, I’m selfish then.”
    A young mother with two small girls approached and then passed them, the children each holding one of the woman’s hands with one small hand of their own, and sipping what smelled like a
chocolat chaud
with the other. Delilah found the smell suddenly delicious. Maybe she was hungrier than she’d thought.
    “If you had something to do with what happened to her, Kent, and I find out, nothing will protect you.”
    “I believe you.”
    “And if I believe you now, and I find out later you were lying to me, I will cut your heart out.”
    “I realize you don’t mean that metaphorically.”
    “No. I don’t.”
    “I’m not lying to you, Delilah.”
    She looked in his eyes. She believed him. She hoped she wasn’t being naïve. For her sake, and for his.
    She sighed. “It’s never going to end, Kent. Never. Not while we perpetuate it.”
    “I know.”
    “Then why do you do it?”
    He raised his arms, then dropped them helplessly to his sides. “I know we’re in a trap. A burning house, with all the doors and windows barred. I recognize it. But I don’t see a way out. All I can see is the possibility, very rarely and improbably, of small moments of… grace.”
    “Is that what you’re offering me?”
    He looked grave. “Actually, I was hoping you might offer it to me. I told you, I’m selfish that way.”
    She gave him a small, reluctant smile. Maybe it would be good to talk. Or at least to not be alone. Maybe this was one of those small moments.
    She didn’t really know. But it seemed a shame, not to at least try to find out.
    “Buy me a
chocolat chaud
,” she said.
    He nodded. “Let’s make it two.”

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
    T hanks to Lori Kupfer for once again choosing Delilah’s clothes, makeup, and jewelry. Thanks to Naomi Andrews, novelist J.A. Konrath, Lara Perkins, and Laura Rennert for their indispensable feedback on the manuscript. It’s even possible Laura came up with the initial idea for this story, though that’s the kind of thing I always have trouble remembering. ☺