“Ah,” Clo says. “Relationship problems.” All three sisters nod in unison. I appreciate that they have the decency to at least look sorry for me.
“How did you…?” I stop mid-question, realizing that obviously they would know. They know pretty mucheverythingabouteveryone.
I let the events of the past few days fall from my mouth in one long wave of words, hoping maybe they’ll be able to offer some advice. What’s the use of being acquainted with all-knowing entities if you can’t pick their brains every once in a while? Ican’t believe I never thought of it before. Theymusthave an answer for me—some direction I should take that will make everything work out in the end.
“Actually,” I say, resting elbows on knees, “maybe you ladies can help me out. Give me some…guidance. Friend to friend.”
“We’re not friends.”
“Colleague to colleague, then,” I respond through clenched teeth. Why is it sodifficultto talk to them?
Attie extends her hand out, palm up, as if to say,go on.So I do.
“As you probably already know, I kind of messed up. I was going to shoot Felicity with one of my arrows, but I—” How do I explain my severe lack of judgment here?
“I chickened out,” I say.
“That sounds like you.” My eyes narrow at Attie for that jibe. Still mad about her trip around the slot machine, I see.
“Right, thanks for that. So, yeah, Imade the intentional decision,” I glare at Attie here, “to not use the arrow. But Felicity thinks that Ididuse an arrow on her, and now she just confessed to developing feelings for me, real feelings, and I—”
“WHAT?!”
The sudden shriek jolts me from my impromptu therapy session, and when I look back…
Shit.
Felicity is glaring at me, red-faced and white-knuckled, chest heaving with tight fists clenched at her sides. She looks like she’s debating whether she should throw a punch. It’s not needed, though, because the look she’s giving me is a punch right to the gut.
Anger. Betrayal. And something far more delicate and devastating: genuine hurt.
Felicity heard everything, and now she knows I was lying about the one thing that makes her feel the most vulnerable. The thing she trusted me with, just a couple of days ago.
“You’ve been lying to me? This whole time?”
“No! Listen—”
Felicity takes a half-step back. “Be honest, Cupid.For once.” She spits these last two words.
“It’s not so much a lie as withholding the truth,” I say meekly, trying desperately to think of an adequate defense.
“You’re so full of shit.” Felicity throws her hands up in the air. “And I should have known this was a bad idea. I should have known better. This love shit—passion, romance, whatever you call it—is pointless.” She spits this last word, and I recoil.
I move to stand, but my legs are frozen in place. I open my mouth to speak, but I can’t form the right words.
“My instincts were right about you,” she says venomously.
Felicity’s jaw works, shifting back and forth as she stares me down. But she hasn’t walked away yet. Maybe there’s still a chance. Maybe I can explain. I have to try.
“Love, please listen. I had a reason—Ipromise.”
“What reason could possibly justify lying to me like this?”
“It was the only way to change your mind.”
Felicity scoffs dismissively. “That’s rich. Is that really the best you can do?”
I stand up and slowly approach her, the way you would an injured animal. She doesn’t run away, but she also won’t look me in the eye. I dip my head slightly, try to get her toseeme—the me she’s opened up to, the me who opened up to her. Not the impulsive liar.
