"Why are you moving? Your place is adorable! Are there neighbor issues, or something?"
It was the first time she had mentioned moving out loud, and Silva could feel Tate's eyes on her, but he said nothing.
"I'm just trying to reevaluate my finances, once my lease is up in the spring. I make nothing at work, which is fine, considering they forget I exist most days. But I don't want . . ."
She drifted off, not wanting to continue in front of Ainsley. She didn't want her parents to continue subsidizing her existence, not when she was doing everything in her power to get out from under their thumb.You keep saying that. It's time to start actually doing it.“I just need to start thinking a bit smarter.”
"Sure, I can ask Dynah. You're right, I think she did say something about doubles being in the next building, but I'm not sure on what end. We'll make sure to find out."
"So, you're here the rest of the week?" Silva redirected at Ainsley, quickly changing the subject.No reason not to be nice.
"Yeah, just this week. We're going to a performance at the Symphonia this weekend, on Friday. If the two of you are interested, I know they have tickets available."
Silva was surprised by Ainsley’s invitation. Beside him, Ris beamed.
"I think we're crashing a wedding on Friday?" Tate turned her with a raised eyebrow, and she found his hand beneath the table once more.
"That's right. Tea, history, and wedding crashing. What more could you want?"
"Can't think of a single thing. Best holiday I’ve ever had."
When they returned to her apartment that night, Silva felt drowsy and sated, wanting to do nothing other than crawl into bed beside him. She was exhausted, had been for the last week or so, falling to sleep the instant her head hit the pillow. She was a bit annoyed with herself, wasting a single moment ofhaving him in her bed, but she couldn’t help it.When she found herself laying against Tate a short while later, hovering between sleep and wakefulness the last thing she expected was a heavy conversation.
"Have you spoken with your grandmother recently, Silva?"
Her lungs tightened, eyes fluttering open. Her disclosure about her finances was obviously not something he'd missed, or was willing to let go.
“Is this because of what I said at the pub? About my apartment? I can't keep accepting money from my parents if I want to live my own life. Why, is that what you think I should keep doing—"
"I didn't say a single word about your apartment," he cut her off. "I think you need to do whatever you need to do to survive in this world, I've done so myself many times before. But that's not what I asked. Have you talked to your grandmother recently?"
The question wasn't what she was expecting, and she didn't know how to answer. At least not in a way that didn't make her face heat and her guts churn.They want me to choose, and I won't do it.
"Not recently," she admitted at length, breathing against him. "You don't know what it's like, Tate. I mean . . . I know that youdo." His fingers pushed through her hair, tucking a stray strand behind her ear, saying nothing. "But it's worse for girls. It's harder for us from the time we're little. Our entire existence is boiled down to one thing. That's it. It doesn't matter who we are or if we're happy or what we want out of our lives. That one act is all we're good for. There's so much riding on our choices . . . And then our choices become not our choices at all. It'smylife."
Tate was quiet for what seemed like a small eternity, but when he spoke again, his voice was sad and steady. "You're right, Silva. I don't know what any of that is like. Not a jot of it. I only know what it's like to have a grandmother who loves you more thanshe loves herself. And I know that you told me you were very close with yours. I don’t want to be the wedge that keeps you from mending things with your family."
It was her turn to be silent. She’d had the whole month to think on it. She couldn’t explain why Tate was the way he was, why he held her at arm’s length. She could only assume that his relationship with his family had much to do with it. A father he'd never known, a mother with whom he had no meaningful relationship. He had loved his grandparents, clearly, but they had died when he was young. There was no other way for her to explain his inability to let her in.
"Silva, I had a family that loved me once,” he murmured into the space between them, as if he’d been able to clearly hear her thoughts. “And I still walked out the door. I turned my back on them and I walked out the door. I've done a lot of unforgivable shite in my lifetime. Things I can't take back, things I wish I could undo. But the biggest regret I have of my entire miserable existence is walking out that door. I don't want you to make that same mistake. Your family is only thinking about what's best for you, dove, whether it seems that way or not. No matter what you decide to do, with me or anyone else, I don't want you to look back in your jubilation and regret walking out the door."
She sniffled, and immediately his arms opened, pulling her in close. He wasn’t wrong. It tore her apart to know that her absence was likely breaking her grandmother's heart.It wasn't fair.It wasn't fair that she should have to give up her own happiness for her grandmother to get the happiness she deserved, to be surrounded by the family she loved in her jubilation years. It wasn't fair that Tate had been shunned from every side, wasn't fair that he couldn't simply claim her as his and have thembothbe happy with that choice. She was tired of having the same circular argument with no resolution, and she suspected the truth of it was that there never would be aresolution. She couldn’t have everything she wanted, no matter how hard she wished for it.
She didn’t need the club. She didn’t need Cevanorë, didn’t need her friends and neighbors, didn’t need their judgment and their stares. She needed him and her family, and that was all.
"I'll call my Nana this week.” She didn't need to bring the whole world to heel — she only needed to make her own world a bit smaller, a little more important. "I'll call her tomorrow, and I'm going to go see her this week."
Another stroke down her back, before his hand settled against her hip, pulling her in close. "Good. That's good, dove. That's what you need to do."
"Right this way, Miss."
Silva smiled at the maître d' who greeted her in the corridor before the hall. The dining room wasn't open yet, wouldn't be until the dinner hour. Silva looked around as he led her through the giant room, seeing it as though it were her very first time.
It was airy, white and gray jacquard walls, crystal sconces every few feet, and huge floral arrangements at the center of every white linen-covered table, arms of eucalyptus reaching to the sky beneath the giant, glittering chandelier. She wondered if he would consider the excess gauche.
She had been up since the crack of dawn, throwing her guts up in anticipation of this meeting. She'd gone to work as normal, throwing up twice more there, feeling lightheaded and breathless as the hours ticked by, her entire future seeming to balance on the knife-tip of the next few days. Now she was here, back at the club.
She was lunching with her grandmother in the smaller tea room, off the main dining room and before the glassed-in terrace. This had always been her favorite part of the club. The tea room was lush and warm, peach and blush colored, with fat-headed pink peonies spilling from crystal vases and apricot-colored table linens giving the entire space a softer, more intimate feel. Beyond, in the terrace, Silva had liked to sit at the windows when it rained, when she’d been just a tiny elf, taking tea with her beloved grandmother. The water would cascade down the windows, giving the whole world a blurry, faraway quality. She would be like a little fish, safely tucked away in her bowl, happy as she watched the world go by.
