Calanthe presses a kiss to my cheek. “We don’t play dirty; we play to win.”
She holds up her palm, and he delivers a high-five.
And then Diego drapes his arm around my shoulders and tucks me close. “Atlantis, Lil Sis. You’re going to go there with him…”
“Maybe. Not all her dreams come true.”
As Calanthe starts on the first rack of dresses, she muses, “Most have.”
Mostisn’tall.
I’m so consumed by my thoughts that I barely register my body being stripped and compressed into a parade of couture—pastel silk for my maid-of-honor skit, and tan suede for Jeneva’s event…assuming I even go.
Especially now that Cillian and I are apparently destined for each other. If I invite him to Atlantis, that has to mean he’s not bringing Jeneva, or one of her friends, back to his camper…right?
The mere idea churns my stomach and fills me with a pressing need to reply to his message. I root around my pile of discarded clothes when Calanthe floats out of the fitting room wearingthe one.
An odd prickle stings my nose at the sight of her clad in white lace. “Callie, it’s…”
“Perfect,” Diego finishes for me.
She twirls, and the skirt blooms around her, the sequins scattered beneath the lace shimmering like starlight on a calm ocean. “It is, isn’t it?”
Diego sniffles. For once, I don’t give him grief for it, because I’m right there with him.
After our yeehaw costumes are packed into glossy shopping bags, we stop by a shoe boutique specializing in cowboy gear.
I end up with copper snakeskin boots that mirror the metal buttons tracking down my halter-fringed micro dress. I blame the champagne I chugged like water in the first boutique for this bold choice.AndCalanthe’s premonitory dream that’s completely taken over my mind.
I feel possessed. Like the girl powered by hope, stomach butterflies, and sappy endings has punched her way through the tough, protective casing I keep her locked in.
As I run for the car beneath a Boston sky blistered by a heat storm, the clarity I’ve been chasing for the last three days finally snaps into place—I’m done thinking.
Calanthe sighs, “There goes our pool party.”
I finger the silk paper wrapped snugly around the fringed dress that no real cowgirl would be caught dead wearing on a cattle ranch, considering the price tag. Dropping that much money on clothes feels aberrant. To ease some of my guilt, I wire twice the amount to the anti-sexual violence charities I volunteered at the summer I turned sixteen.
Gaea, what would Cillian think if he saw my credit card bill? Would he be disgusted or covetous?
My earlier contemplation takes root: What if the reason I bring him to Atlantis is because he’s after runes and somehowmanages to seduce me into giving them to him? He might die the second he treads the mine, but still…
The butterflies drop dead in my stomach, replaced by something darker that dims my mood and makes me reassess—for the hundredth time—how to answer Cillian’s message.
Damn you, Malachi Hadez. Damn you and your stupid doubts.
“Want to come over for dinner and a movie?” Calanthe asks.
I glance out the window at the pounding rain beyond. “Actually, I think I’d prefer to go home.”
“And what will you be doing at home? Or should I ask,whowill you be doing?”
I roll my eyes. “No one.”
“Shame.” She pouts.
As Diego threads the car through growing traffic, and Calanthe chats with Lisa about wedding preparations, I turn everything in my head until my brain feels like it’s about to combust.
“Callie, do I look happy in your dream?” I ask her as Diego swings down the ramp of my building’s parking lot.
