This time, I laugh. “Chill. It’s not really a date. He came out of obligation because she let him use the shop’s kitchen. By the way, she’s decided this décor is ideal forBloom’sand is gearing up to pitch it to your mother. Might want to prepare Lisa.”
Her eyelids spasm. “You’re sure?”
“That she’s putting together a presentation? Eighty percent sure.”
“No. I meant that nothing is going on between the two?”
“You’re welcome to grill him, but yeah, I’m sure.”
“How sure?”
“I-asked-under-compulsionsure.”
Calanthe harrumphs. “I’m still going to grill him.”
“Be my guest.”
She leans back in her chair. “Are you drinking milk?”
“Yeah.”
“At a bar.”
“Yeah.”
“Weird.”
“I’m a weird bitch. Words for my next custom sweatshirt?”
Calanthe rolls her eyes, then waves over a server and asks for a Virgin Mary, while I ask for a beer, not in the mood to sample any more of their mixed drinks. “Before I call your date and Jen back over, tell me about your meeting with Gael.”
And so I do… I tell her all about it. And then she calls the others back. The evening turns out to be surprisingly nice and carefree, a welcome distraction from my loitering glumness.
Jeneva brings the noise and the fun. Calanthe is the safety net that allows me to lower my guard. And Cillian…he’s thequiet force that keeps me grounded with small touches that grow bolder when I don’t chase his hand off my body.
By the end of the night, his hand lies knuckles-down on my thigh, my fingers woven through his.
Calanthe notices because she brings it up once we’re alone, cruising back to her mother’s place.
“I don’t hate him,” I tell her.
She glances away from our Uber-black driver. “You could try a sentence that doesn’t cancel itself out.”
I roll my lips, considering telling her about the seed Malachi planted. But not now—not when there’s a chance Calanthe might agree with Malachi. I don’t feel like stirring up my enduring doubts. I want to let this worry-free evening carry me a little longer.
“I grilled him when you went to the bathroom,” she says.
“I suspected you might have.” I steeple my cheek on my fingers. “Can we discuss your findings tomorrow? I’ve hit my quota for revelations today.”
“Of course. But we should talk about them.”
Tarian phones her just as I’m about to bite and ask,Why? What did you learn?By the time they hang up, I’ve managed to beat back my curiosity. I really can’t take any more tonight.
Once tucked in her bed, I curl onto myself and try my hardest to find sleep, drifting off just as dawn creeps underneath the curtains and pinkens the hardwood floors.
When I open my eyes next, I’m no longer in Calanthe’s room; I’m in my yellow childhood bedroom, lying on a bloodstained mattress, my wrists and ankles bound to my metal twin bed. A syringe as large as my forearm protrudes from my chest. I expect to find my biological mother standing over me, but it’s not the black-haired woman who gave birth to me. It’s Cillian.
Deep down, I know this is a nightmare. But when I startle awake, sweat mattes my hair, and my heart hurts as though Cillian had really just stabbed it with a giant needle.
