Even though the chat’s encrypted, I erase every word on it, scrub my phone’s history clean, and then tap on Electra’s name.
ME:Home yet?
Rapping on my car window has me jumping so high that the seatbelt almost dislocates my shoulder. The blood deserts my face.
Electra is standing there, peering down at me, the gash over her brow as faint as an old scar. How long has she been there? Long enough to witness me text with Trenton?
It takes my unsteady fingers two attempts to unlatch my seat belt and click open my door. The inside of my mouth tastes like the bottom of a cast-iron skillet.
“Sorry for the fright,” she says around a crooked smile, taking in my bleached complexion and the sweat dampening my hairline.
My glasses slip. I shove them back up before thrusting my shaking fingers through my hair. “I think I lost a few years of life.”
“Well, now, I feel extra crappy about seeking you out.”
“Don’t. I’m glad you did.”
“Were you going somewhere?”
“Yeah. To see you. I just sent you a message.”
“I saw,” she says.
I pray that the place she saw it was on her screen and not on mine. “Should we go back to yours and have that dinner?”
“My place is a little crowded at the moment. But I’m starving. Restaurant?”
“Sure.” My heart finally finds its rhythm again—she wouldn’t have suggested a dinner date if she suspected me of ill intent.
What calms me even more is when she settles into the Volvo and reaches across the center console for my hand. I close my fingers around hers, anchoring myself to her. Anchoring her to me.
I feel unworthy to hold her hand, like I’m soiling it, yet I cling to her all the same.
I have no appetite, but I force myself to sample every dish at the tiny Thai eatery recommended by a line chef I used to work with back in Maine. The flavors coat my tongue without penetrating.
By the time the bill comes and I pay it, even though Electra tries to flash her virtual credit card, I can’t decide if the meal was any good, and look to Electra for confirmation that it was. She seems satisfied.
“Are you okay?” she asks as we stroll back to my car. “You seem…preoccupied.”
“I am.”
Wariness flickers across her face. “Why?”
“Because I feel like I’ll never be enough for you.” Not a lie. “You warned me not to catch feelings, but I’ve caught them. And now, I’m just bracing for heartbreak.”
She draws to a stop beside the Charles that ripples with moonlight, painting a sparkling backdrop behind her. But nothing sparkles quite as vividly as her upturned stare.
And not with magic, even though I keep expecting it to leap out and burn all the memories of us from my mind.
“I’m here, aren’t I? I chose you.” She steals her hand out of mine, but only to slide it around my waist and press herself against me.
Her hug feels like a noose that’s cleaving me in two—one half wants to run away before she sees my true colors; the other wants to gather her close and whisper the truth.
“Stop doubting me, Cillian.”
I press a kiss to her forehead and close my eyes, wishing I could confess that the person I’m doubting is myself.
Wishing that I could go back to when she was the heartless enemy and nothing more.
