“Ours,” she says, and I can’t see her face from here, but I think she’s smiling that serene, hopeful smile that’s so not the normal Angela—so open, so vulnerable. She puts her hand on his shoulder again, rests it there this time, looks up into his shocked dark eyes, and says, clearly, “The seventh is ours.”
A chill passes through me. Out of the corner of my eye I think I see the flutter of black wings, but when I look I don’t see anything. I turn my attention back to Phen. He reaches out and places his hand on her belly, his eyes still incredulous, and for a few seconds I think it’s all going to be okay, like Angela said. He’s going to take care of her. He’s going to protect them both.
But then the control over his human form slips, and I catch a flash of that gray soul of his. He looks wildly around, like it’s not safe to be seen in public with her. His gaze glances off me with only a flicker of recognition. I wouldn’t have to be an empath to pick up on the naked fear in his eyes, pure and undiluted. He’s terrified.
“Phen, say something,” Angela says urgently.
He looks up into her face. “You shouldn’t have told me,” he murmurs without emotion. “I shouldn’t be here.”
“Phen,” she says, alarmed, her fingers gripping his suit jacket. “I know it’s a shock. It was a shock for me too, trust me. But it was supposed to happen, don’t you see? This is my vision, my purpose. I’ve been seeing this moment since I was eight years old. It’s you, Phen. We’re allowed to be together. We’re supposed to be together.”
“No,” he says. “We’re not.”
“But I love you.” Her voice breaks on the word love. “My heart’s been yours ever since I first saw you in the church. You love me, too. I know you do.”
“I can’t love you,” he says firmly, and she flinches. “I can’t protect you, Angela. You should not have told me. You shouldn’t tell anyone else.”
“Phen,” she pleads. She reaches into her pocket to pull out the ultrasound, like a picture of the baby might make him change his mind, but he catches her hand in his and closes her fingers around the paper before she can open it. He gazes up into her eyes, lifts his other hand to her face, his fingers brushing her cheek, and for a split second he looks torn.
Then he disappears. No good-bye. No Sorry, but you’re on your own, honey. He’s just gone.
I rush up the stairs as Angela sinks to her knees.
“It’s okay,” I’m saying over and over again, like saying it will make it true.
She gazes at me with unshed tears in her eyes. Her hands are shaking when I help her to her feet, but she won’t let me support her. She’s acutely aware of other students watching us, so she lifts her head and starts to walk in her awkward way back the way we came. I try to put my arm around her, to help take some of the weight, but she shakes me off.
“I’m fine,” she says then, in almost a monotone. “Let’s go.”
Back at Roble she moves around like a zombie, taking her clothes off and dropping them on the floor until she’s only wearing her camisole and panties.
Amy comes in, bearing an armload of books. I grab her by the arm and turn her around, push her back out into the hall. “You should come back later,” I tell her.
“But I have to—”
“Like maybe tomorrow. Get out.”
Amy looks horribly offended. I shut the door and turn to Angela.
Suddenly she laughs as if this whole thing is terribly funny, like Phen has played some hilarious trick on her. She brushes her bangs out of her face, smiles the most awful, heartbroken smile. “Well, that didn’t go the way I thought it would.”
“Oh, Ange.”
“Let’s not talk about it. I’m fine.”
She gets into bed and pulls the covers up to her chin. Outside, the birds are still singing, the sun is still shining, but inside her I feel everything go dark. I sit at the edge of her bed. I don’t say anything, because everything I think of sounds completely stupid.