Chapter 166: Where Were You Last Night? [FIXED!]

Rachel’s key fumbled against the lock twice before she managed to get it into the slot, her fingers not quite as steady as she needed them to be. The hallway lights felt too bright, too clinical against the pounding behind her eyes, and the faint, stale smell of alcohol clinging to her jacket only made the whole walk back feel more surreal.

She didn’t fully remember every detail of the night. Fragments, mostly. Conversations that had started calm and turned into something messier. She’d gone out to meet him — the man whose name she still couldn’t quite say out loud without a wave of guilt crashing over her — and whatever had happened between then and now blurred together into something she wasn’t ready to sit with. But what she did with him was a complete mystery.

She just needed to get inside. Shower. Sleep. Pretend the version of herself standing in this hallway right now didn’t exist.

That plan lasted exactly until she rounded the corner and nearly walked straight into Darren.

"Whoa—" Darren caught himself, stepping back slightly, and immediately clocked the state of her. Hair slightly disheveled, mascara smudged faintly beneath one eye, the unmistakable sourness of alcohol hanging in the air around her. "You good?"

Rachel froze for half a second too long, panic flashing across her face before she could smooth it into something resembling composure. "I’m fine," she said quickly, voice tighter than she intended.

"Didn’t say you weren’t." Darren held his hands up slightly, more amused than concerned. He had zero stake in whatever was going on with her — she was his landlady, nothing more, and whatever she did with her nights was none of his business. "Just making sure you didn’t need help finding your own door or something."

"I know where my door is, Darren."

"Clearly." He glanced at her again, taking in the full picture — the wrinkled clothes, the smeared makeup, the way she wouldn’t quite meet his eyes. Rough night, obviously. Not his concern, obviously. But the reaction she was giving off felt disproportionate to a random hallway run-in with someone who had literally nothing to do with her personal life.

"Long night?" he asked anyway, mostly just to fill the silence.

"Something like that," Rachel said, already inching toward her door, keys still clutched tight in one hand.

"You good though? For real?"

"I’m good." She forced something close to a smile. "Just tired."

"Aight." Darren shrugged, already losing interest, his mind clearly somewhere else entirely — bouncing, distracted, the energy of a man sitting on good news he was dying to share with someone, anyone. "Well. Get some rest."

"Yeah." Rachel finally got her door open, throwing one last glance over her shoulder. "You seem like you’re in a good mood."

"Something like that," Darren said, echoing her own words back with a grin, clearly not planning to elaborate. Whatever had him buzzing, he kept it to himself — no reason getting into it with his landlady in the middle of a hallway, especially not when she was two seconds from collapsing into her own apartment.

Rachel managed a small, tired laugh despite everything else weighing on her. "Well. Whatever it is, I’m glad someone’s having a good day."

"Facts." Darren threw up a small wave and continued down the hallway, still riding high on his own thoughts, leaving Rachel to slip into her apartment and finally exhale the breath she’d been holding the entire conversation.

Keiza grabbed the keys off the counter that Darren had forgotten and headed out, Darren was still buzzing from the phone call earlier that day, already mentally replaying how he wanted to react when he actually saw the building in person tonight. He moved fast, energy up, barely pausing to lock the door behind him before heading down the hallway toward the stairs.

Keiza emerged from the apartment about two minutes after him, purse slung over one shoulder, phone in hand as she locked the door and hurried to catch up. She caught up to him in the parking lot, tossing him the keys, sliding into the passenger seat just as he was pulling his seatbelt across his chest.

"Where we off to?" she asked, buckling in.

"Told you already, we got somewhere to be."

"That’s not an answer, that’s a deflection." Keiza gave him a look, half amused, half suspicious. "You’re being weird and cryptic this morning."

"I’m not being cryptic, I’m being mysterious." Darren started the car, backing out of the spot with a grin he wasn’t bothering to hide. "You’ll see when we get there."

Keiza huffed out a laugh, shaking her head, and let it go for the moment — mostly. She wasn’t the type to push too hard when Darren got like this, secretive but clearly excited about something.

"So how’s Liam been?" she asked instead. "You’ve been hanging out with him a lot lately."

"He’s good. Busy, but good."

"Busy with what?"

"Just... life stuff." Darren kept his eyes forward, tone casual, giving nothing away. "He’s got a lot going on right now."

"That’s vague as hell." Keiza laughed, nudging his arm lightly. "You’re really not gonna give me anything?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

Darren glanced at her briefly, expression softening slightly. "Cause it’s his business to tell, not mine. If Liam wants people to know what’s going on with him, he’ll say something. Not my place to be running my mouth about his life."

Keiza smiled at that, something warm settling in her chest. It was one of the things she genuinely loved about Darren, even when it occasionally frustrated her in the moment — his loyalty ran deep, quiet and unwavering, the kind that didn’t need to announce itself to be real. He kept people’s secrets the way most men kept trophies, like something worth protecting rather than showing off.

"That’s actually really respectable of you," she said.

"I try my best." Darren smirked slightly, clearly pleased with himself.

"Liam’s been solid for me. Least I can do is not be out here blabbing his business to everybody, even you."

"I wasn’t trying to get you to blab, I was just curious."

"I know. But curiosity’s a slippery slope, baby. Next thing you know you’re asking follow-up questions and I’m caving ’cause you’re cute."

Keiza rolled her eyes, laughing despite herself. "Please. Like I’d even need to try that hard."

"You underestimate your own power," Darren said, only half joking, and Keiza let the topic drop entirely, content to let whatever surprise was waiting for them unfold on its own timeline instead of pulling it out of him piece by piece.

She settled back into her seat, glancing out the window as the city passed by, trusting that whatever Darren was building toward — with Liam, with himself, with all of it — was something good. It usually was, lately. And that alone was enough for her.

-

The moment Rachel’s door clicked shut behind her, the composure she’d been holding together in the hallway cracked completely.

"Darren’s going to tell him."

That was the only thought looping through her head, drowning out everything else — the exhaustion, the headache, even the lingering nausea from last night. Darren and Liam were close now, closer than she’d fully accounted for, and there was no version of this where he just... didn’t mention it. A grown woman stumbling in disheveled at whatever hour this was, reeking of alcohol, clearly not coming from her own bed. Of course he’d bring it up. Why wouldn’t he?

And if he told Liam, Liam would ask questions. Questions she didn’t have good answers for. Questions that could unravel something she’d only just started rebuilding after everything with Marcus.

She sank onto the edge of her bed, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes, trying to steady her breathing.

*It’s not even what it looks like. That’s the stupid part.*

Because nothing had actually happened last night. Nothing physical, nothing she’d need to confess in the traditional sense. The irony of it all sat bitter in her throat — she’d spent weeks turning him over in her mind, this idealized version of a man she’d built entirely out of stolen glances and charged text exchanges, only to have the actual, physical reality of him dismantle the fantasy within the first ten minutes of sitting across from him.

He was shorter than she remembered. Not dramatically, but enough that it registered immediately, some subconscious recalibration she couldn’t stop once it started. And his build — whatever discipline she’d imagined him having, whatever effortless confidence she’d projected onto him from a distance, had clearly slipped somewhere along the way. He’d let himself go, and worse, he seemed entirely unaware of it, still carrying himself like the man she’d built up in her head instead of the one actually sitting in front of her.

So they’d just talked. And drank. And drank more.

By the time he’d suggested going back to his place, something in her had already curdled past the point of wanting anything more from the night. She’d turned him down flat, and when it became clear she was in no state to drive — both from the alcohol and from how far the bar had ended up being from home — she’d checked into a cheap motel a few blocks away instead, alone, and passed out fully clothed on top of the comforter.

That was it. That was the entire scandal.

And yet here she was, sitting on her bed, hands trembling slightly, terrified that a hallway run-in with Darren was about to blow up an entire relationship over something that hadn’t even happened.

She grabbed her phone, staring at Liam’s contact for a long moment, thumb hovering uselessly over the screen.

"Do I say something first? Get ahead of it?"

She set the phone down without typing anything, dropping her head into her hands instead. Explaining this to Liam meant explaining why she’d gone to meet another man at all, and that conversation alone was enough to make her stomach twist all over again.