“About time,” Father mutters. “We’re starving.”
We set the trays on a coffee table in the center of the room. For a moment, everyone just stares at the fancy spread arranged on plates and the bottled water.
“Well,” Rosa says, breaking the silence. “At least we have a feast.”
“Enjoy.” My mother shoots her a glare. “We paid for it.”
“Everyone eat.” Julien leaves his post by the window long enough to grab a plate before returning to stand guard. “Cameron and I will take watch tonight.”
He hasn’t looked at me since our little, way-too-embarrassing encounter in the bridal suite. I’m still not sure if he’s angry about having to rescue me or angry that I exist.
But he made sure we got a shower. Made sure we had clean clothes. Made sure we all have a safe place to sleep tonight.
That counts for something, even if he hates me.
And at this point, I’m too exhausted to care either way.
I grab a plate for Amelia and bring it over.
“Thanks, Dakota,” she whispers as I pass it to her.
“Eat what you can. Need to keep your strength up.”
“Dakota, mija.” Rosa beckons me over, patting the chair beside her. “Sit. You’ve been working non-stop.”
I hesitate, then grab my own plate and drop into the chair. My body aches in places I didn’t know could hurt, muscles screaming from the day’s violence.
“The food is very nice,” Rosa says, chewing on a cucumber sandwich. “Even with the apocalypse, you managed to make it look pretty.”
A strange laugh bubbles up my throat. “At least something I’m good at…”
“More than that is good in you, niña. Much more.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I just eat, watching as our strange group arranges itself in this new reality.
Sienna and Cameron sit close together, shoulders touching, sharing food from the same plate. My parents keep to themselves, speaking in hushed tones, while the reverend eats nothing.
After dinner, everyone prepares for bed. Cameron and Julien check the barricades one last time before taking positions by the door for first watch. The rest of us shuffle around with blankets and pillows, pretending this is normal, that we’ll wake up tomorrow, and everything will make sense again.
Amelia sits in her pillow and blanket nest, her face drawn with exhaustion.
“Come on.” I arrange my blankets beside her. “You need to lie down.”
She doesn’t argue, which tells me exactly how tired she is. Normally, she’d insist she’s fine, dismiss any suggestion she needs help. I spread the softest blanket over her, tucking it around her thin shoulders.
“This feels like when we were kids,” she whispers. “Remember those blanket forts in my room?”
“You always insisted on using the good sheets even though Mom would get mad.”
“Worth it.” Her voice sounds thinner than usual. “Are you going to sleep?”
“Right here.” I stretch out my back on the prayer mat beside her, staring at the ceiling where shadows from the candles dance. “Don’t worry.”
“Mind if I join?” Sienna asks, arms wrapped around a pillow. “Would it be weird? I just—I don’t want to be alone when Cameron takes watch.”
This woman was supposed to be my rival. The other woman. The reason my wedding fell apart. But she fought, even throwing herself at one of the zombies.
For me.
