“But—”
“Believe me when I tell you that Kellan and I have made this mistake far too often. It only ends up antagonizing her to act out more. Our best line of recourse is to walk away right now. You do not need her parents petitioning the Council, claiming you’ve been unfairly attacking their daughter in public. Not now, when you’re just reassuming your duties.”
I stare at him in amazement. Over his shoulder, Sophie mouths, “You know I’m telling the truth.”
My fists clench tightly, but I let Jonah steer me away.
When my mother walks into the private room Astrid reserved for us at her favorite Elvin restaurant, my stomach decides we’re on a roller coaster. She looks around the loud room, clutching her handbag close.
She came. My mother came to my engagement dinner. And I have no idea how I feel about it.
I’m rooted to the spot below me, Jonah’s hand on my back as he laughs at something Moira Graystone has just said. I’ve got my goddaughter Emily in my arms and all I can do is simply stare at the woman I grew up with but hardly know .
Abigail Lilywhite finally spies me and winds her way through the room until she reaches us. She clears her throat and nearly forces herself to smile. “Hello, Chloe. You’re looking good this evening.”
No . . . no comment about being too thin? My hair not being right?
Jonah nudges me and I blink hard. “Um . . . hi, Mom.”
Karl and Moira know how things are between me and my parents, so our awkward greeting doesn’t faze anymore. Moira simply reclaims her daughter and, after saying hi to my mom, too, she and her husband wander over to where Zthane and Giuliana are talking to Cora and Raul.
“I’m glad you could come tonight,” Jonah tells her.
It’s then I notice her smile is brittle, like she’s completely afraid to do the wrong thing. Say the wrong thing. So I step forward and hug my mother. “Me, too,” I whisper in her ear.
Her thin body trembles, like she’s holding in too much emotion. “As am I.”
Tonight, we’ll add more bricks to our foundation together.
Dinner is wonderful. Everyone is so happy for us, even though we get teased for getting engaged more times than most couples. Astrid and Cameron are so cute together (despite their vehement protests that they are, in fact, not a couple), as are Cora and Raul. Will and Callie spend the entire time bickering and it’s so adorable I just want to pinch their cheeks. I get at least twenty hugs from Emily, and the sweetest picture of me and Jonah she drew. Caleb takes care of my mother. Outside of Kellan, everyone I love most is in this room tonight.
Speaking of . . . “I love you,” I tell Jonah.
He kisses me, prompting lots of glasses to clink. We laugh and for once, everything is perfect. Incandescent. Free. Like we have a right to this bliss. Like . . . maybe everything is going to work out after all.
Midway through dessert, I excuse myself to go to the small ladies’ room across the restaurant. I practically glide across the floor, the biggest, goofiest grin filling my face.
I am in love and I don’t care who knows it.
It isn’t until I’m washing my hands that I become aware of someone standing behind me. “You’re a tough one to get alone,” he says, voice distorted and wheezy. “So many people looking out for you. Even here, in this place of gluttony.”
I stare at him for a moment in the mirror before turning around slowly. I don’t even allow myself to feel vindicated in this moment. I’m . . . freaked out, to be honest.
“Hello, Jens,” I say.
His thin lips curl into a smile. It is, in no way, pleasant. “Hello, little Creator. How lovely you look today.”
I quickly survey my surroundings. There is no one else in the bathroom. A singular window is off to the side, propped open, no doubt, by Jens. A door leading back to the restaurant opposite the window. It is not an ideal place to launch at attack, but it is doable. Collateral damage will be minimal.
“Come now.” He’s close enough now to drag his fingers across my arm. “Let us talk together for a few moments, you and I.”
Shivers of disgust flare up and down my arms. His skin, it’s . . . dry, papery. Tiny white flakes remain where his fingers have lain.
I have to fight my nausea back.
The moment my hand moves, his swipes out and grabs it. He’s strong, almost unnaturally so. Within less than a second, the bones in my fingers break like tiny twigs under a giant’s feet.
The pain is blinding. All I can do is gasp, because it’s more than a punch to the gut. It’s a godsdamn cannon ball and I can’t even make a sound out of shock.