Evey looked up to him, then stopped completely. Her lips parted for some quickly-rising words, and she visibly bit them back. What came next was measured and careful and cold, and only matched her eyes after a second longer. "That's an excuse."
The words were so sharp that they could have been the back of her hand against his face. She tilted her head back and stared at the ceiling. The ceiling was solid - no tiles to remove. The light fixtures didn't show any sign of damage or tampering, but she studied the edges anyway, carefully. She knew something of how to hide contraband. She'd watched her mother...
Evey felt suddenly very weary and very alone. She shoved at the feeling - hard, like it was the enemy - and looked back around the guest bathroom. There wasn't anywhere else. Unless.
The door.
And then, the closet.
She looked back at Aidan before she put her hand on the linen closet handle. This was the moment. This was when he could confess. Or she could tell him to leave here. Or she could leave, herself. Pretend nothing was in that closet.
But Evey never knew fairy tales or happily ever afters. She was going to do this, and she wasn't going to ask him to leave. She was going to ask him to watch. And not to stop her.