“Chloe!” Astrid stands up to hug me. Normally I’d soak up this bit of affection for all its worth, but I can’t stand the thought of anyone touching me. Caring for me. Not after what I’ve done. Two lives. Two. “I was hoping to catch you before we left,” she’s saying. Both boys’ attentions immediately laser in on me, no doubt as a result of my unsteady psyche. But I ignore them and their concern and choose, instead, to sit next to Callie, who has isolated herself as far away from Jonah as she can possibly get. I can’t explain it, but she feels like the safest choice here.
I build up an emotional shield around me. I’m so stupid. I should have done it before I even walked through the door. I don’t want Jonah worrying about this. He has enough on his plate nowadays, what with his recent elevation and responsibilities in the Council.
Callie gives me an assessing look over before turning back to the conversation at hand. Jonah attempts to ask me what’s wrong, but Callie bulldozes right over his question with a breakdown of sales she’s noticed over the weekend. It shuts Jonah up, but it doesn’t do anything for the worry in his eyes.
I choose to ignore it. I ignore the mirrored reflection in Kellan’s as well; at least he has the grace to not try to drag anything out of me in front of Astrid and Callie. “We were hoping to have a family dinner tonight,” Astrid is saying once Callie’s finished with her blessedly lengthy report. It takes me a moment to realize she’s directed her statement at me.
“That’d be great,” I say at the same time Jonah says, “I don’t think—”
“We used to do weekly family dinners,” Astrid continues. “To ensure everyone was caught up with what everyone else was doing. But that fell to the wayside once the boys moved to California. Now that everyone is back in the same city, I’m afraid I’m insisting on reinstating the tradition or I may never know what my loved ones are up to.”
“There’s this amazing invention called a telephone,” Callie mutters from next to me. “Better yet, there’s email.”
“Yes, well, phone calls are all well and good, but I prefer seeing for myself how you’re all doing.” As if on cue, Astrid’s phone goes off at that very moment. She pulls it out of her purse and sighs. Her three kids make pointed comments about this irony before she moves off to the kitchen to answer it.
“Chloe,” Jonah tries again, but Callie once more cuts him off.
“I was thinking of hitting up the boutique a block south from here. There’s a skirt there that I’ve been eyeing for a couple weeks now. Want to come along?” she asks me.
“Yes,” I say right away. I stand up at the same time Callie does. I can’t do what he wants. I can’t talk about this yet.
“We’ll see you guys at the restaurant,” Callie says for the both of us. She grabs her purse and leans down to say something to Kellan. I take the moment to press a quick kiss against Jonah’s cheek.
“Chloe,” he tries for a third time, reaching for my arm, but I evade his grasp. And then I leave.
Callie doesn’t ask why I’m upset, even though she’d have to be blind and heavily concussed not to notice. I’m back to shaking now that I don’t have to pretend. And my head feels like it’s underwater, there’s so much pressure there. Despite all of this, it’s pleasantly surprising and kind when she says, “Emotionals can be a real pain in the ass when you’re putting on a brave face,” before leaving us in silence for the rest of the walk.
We do not end up going to a store. Instead, Callie takes me to a pub half a mile away. She orders us two shots apiece as we sit on stools at the bar, which we down quickly. Caleb disapproves, but I tell him to leave me alone.
“So,” Callie finally says. “Can I tell you something?”
Our shot glasses form a neat row in front of us. “Sure.”
She makes a face before rubbing at her hair. It goes static-y for the briefest of moments, making her look as haggard as I feel. “It’s hard to be around your boyfriend. Or should I say, my brother? ‘Cause that’s all he is now.”
I stare at her for a couple of seconds before a bubble of laughter escapes my lips. Her grimace turns upwards in a rueful grin that could mirror her mother’s. “I know. Pathetic, right?”
“No,” I tell her. “You’re just . . . I’d say Human, but you’re an Elf, too.”
It’s her turn to laugh, all throaty and warm. “Is it wrong that I make sure he feels just how uncomfortable I am with all of this? How . . . mad, I guess, and hurt, I still am?” She puts a finger up for another shot but then thinks twice about it, explaining her mother will kill her if we show up tanked at dinner.
I think about what she’s said, though, grateful to focus on somebody else’s problems. “No. He was your first love. What would be weird would be you two completely at ease with one another this soon.” Which sounds like the right thing to say, but as my experience with love is limited, too, and even more messed up than hers, I can’t be a hundred percent certain I’m telling her the truth.
“Between me and Jonah,” she says, propping her head up on a bent elbow and fist, “and you and Kellan, tonight is going to be a real blast.” She chuckles under her breath. “If there’s ever been a messed up family made for a daytime talk show, it’d be our incestuous one.”