“I’m sorry,” I say, and I mean it.
“Where did you go?” he asks. “I came by your dorm later, to apologize for what I said, or maybe for how I said it, anyway, and Angela said you weren’t back yet.”
I stare up at him, caught.
He closes his eyes and frowns like I am causing him physical pain. “That’s what I thought.”
I wonder if it’ll make him feel any better to know that my conversation with Tucker that night didn’t go much better than my conversation with him.
He opens his eyes. “It might.”
Good grief. Men.
Moving on. “Okay, as much fun as this is, I didn’t come here to talk to you about us,” I tell him. “I came to tell you about Angela.”
“Has she had the baby?” he asks, concerned. “What is she going to do?”
“She hasn’t had the baby,” I say. “Yet. But tomorrow she’s going to talk to Phen about it.”
Christian goes rigid. “She’s going to tell him about the baby?”
“Well, she’s going to tell him that he’s the father. That’s her plan, anyway.”
“Bad idea,” he says, shaking his head like this is the worst idea ever. “She shouldn’t be telling anybody about the seventh. Especially not Phen.”
“He’s not good news,” I admit. “He’s not … happy. But I guess we’ll see. Angela is dead-set on this. I’ll call you tomorrow after I get back.”
His brows draw together. “Wait. You’re going with her?”
“She asked me to go. Well, she told me I was going, and so I am.”
His mouth twists into a disapproving line. “You should stay out of it.”
“It’s her purpose. Besides, Phen’s already met me, so it’s not like I’d be giving anything away, here. I’m going to be there for moral support.”
“No way.” His green eyes are frosty. “It’s too risky. He’s an angel. He could figure out what you are.”
“He’s not evil, technically speaking….”
Christian scoffs. “You heard what your dad said about ambivalent angels. He’s worse than the Black Wings, he said. They don’t have any allegiance to anybody.” He grabs me by the shoulders like he wants to shake some sense into me, but all he says is “We can’t go parading ourselves around in front of ambiguous angels.”
“Ambivalent,” I correct him. “And I was thinking a marching-band uniform and a baton.”
“Don’t joke about this,” he says. “I’m serious.”
I try to step back, but he’s holding me tightly.
“Don’t go,” he says. “Be cautious, for once in your life.”
“Don’t boss me around,” I say, shaking him off.
“Don’t be an idiot.”
“Don’t call me names.” I head for the door.
“Clara, please,” he pleads, his anger dissolving.
I stop.
“All my life … well, all my life since my mom died, my uncle warned me about this exact sort of thing. Don’t reveal yourself, to anyone. Don’t trust anyone.”
“Yeah, yeah, don’t talk to strange angels.” This would not be the best time to tell him about my little chat with Samjeeza this afternoon. And so I don’t. “I’m there in her vision, Christian.”
“You, of all people, should know that things don’t always happen the way they do in the visions,” he says.
That’s a low blow.
“Clara,” he starts in, “I’ve seen you in my vision, too. What if this is what’s going to—?”
I hold up my hand. “I think we’ve talked enough.”