Twenty minutes later, Fay slips out of her room, dragging a little powder-blue wheeled suitcase behind her, dressed in a casual white tennis skirt and an oversized varsity sweater that Kent picked out for her before he left her room.
At the bottom of the stairs, both Ivan and Kent watch her descend. They’ve been there the whole time, waiting. They didn’t say a word to each other.
“’Bout time, gorgeous,” Ivan says with a smile, coming forward and reaching out a hand to help Fay down the last few steps. She beams at him.
“Oh, come on,” she replies, wrinkling her nose playfully. “I’m worth the wait.”
Kent feels fury build in him as he forces himself to watch the exchange. He wants nothing more than to step forward and punch that satisfied smirk right off of Ivan’s face as he looks Fa
