"Yeah," Atticus agrees, slipping from the seat, but my mind is still reeling from how fast this is all happening. "We should send a reply."
He indicates that I should take his place at the keyboard again. I swallow and sit.
"W-what do I say?"
"I don't want her going to Atlantic City. It's too far," Elijah says. "If something happened?—"
"We'd be there, too," Seven cuts him off before he can spiral any further. "We'll drive up, make sure we're within range for a quick extraction if needed."
This time, Atticus doesn't argue.
I understand their caution, but it makes me more nervous than I think I really have to be. This man, for all his depravity, seems to truly want to find his daughter. If he believes I'm her, I doubt I'd be in any danger from him.
…right?
Why would he go to all this trouble to ruin any chance at a relationship withDelilahby doing something malicious?
"When should I say I'm free?" I ask, resolve strengthened, and hit the reply button.
"Next week?" Seven puts in.
"Why next week?" Atticus shoots back. "Why not now?"
"Because we're visiting Julian again tomorrow," Seven says. "Or did you already forget?"
Hell, even I knew that. Elijah told me as much on the phone last night. His dad is lucid again, and he remembers that Elijah mentioned me. He asked to see Elijah and for him to 'bring that girl he's seeing'. If they don't go soon, it'll be too late. He's only ever lucid for a few days at a time. Sometimes far less.
"Besides, it's Eli's birthday," Seven adds. "We can at least wait until after that."
"It's your birthday?" I ask Elijah with a raised brow. He didn't mention anything to me.
He looks a bit uncomfortable as he scratches the back of his head. "It's this weekend. Sunday."
"Like in a couple days, Sunday?" I confirm.
He nods.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Not really big on birthdays."
As someone wholoathesher own supposed birthday, I get that, but also, if anyone deserves to be celebrated, it's Elijah. He needs to remember what it's like to live.
Atticus simmers on this with a drawn-out sigh through his nose. "Can't we go next?—"
"No," Sev cuts him off. "We're going to see Jules. We've waited this long, Atticus. Another week won't kill you. Plus, it'll give us time to prepare Ro better and for her to really root her story here. Make friends. All that."
Which reminds me—I really need to text Maisie back. She wanted to study tonight but I knew I was coming here. I'll see if she's free at lunch tomorrow. We need to pick topics for an upcoming essay. I'm not sure I'd officially call her a 'friend' yet, but I put a lot of weight into that word. I'd bet she already considers me one of hers.
"Next week, then," Atticus relents. "Make something up about having classwork you need to stay ahead of or some shit."
I don't need to make it up as I type out a quick, noncommittal response explaining that I have a big essay worth thirty percent of my grade due this week, but that I could make time any day the following week, as long as I'm only away one night.
I added that last part for Elijah's sake. I don't want to be gone longer than needed. And if this is just an interview, one day should be more than enough, right?
Will he want to do the DNA test right away, too? How long will it take to get the results?
I bite my lip, wait for Atticus's nod once he's read my reply, and hit send.
