“Fanaa.” A sudden panic was creeping over her skin.
“It means destroying yourself for the one you love.” Atlas spoke urgently. “That’s us, Avery. Don’t you see? We’re literally destroying each other. It’s too complicated, and there are too many people who can be hurt. Especially you and me.”
“So you don’t love me anymore.” That was the only explanation that made sense. How could he love her and not want to be with her?
“Of course I love you,” Atlas insisted. “I’ll always love you. But love isn’t necessarily enough. You can’t build a life on it.”
“Yes, you can!” Avery cried out, her voice pitching wildly.
“I’m just trying to be realistic,” Atlas said, and the reasonable way he spoke made her want to shake his shoulders and scream. “What do you think we’re actually going to do, go live on that remote island, just the two of us?”
“Yes, exactly!”
“And what happens when you’re sick of it—when walking around that small island and reading books and eating fish isn’t enough for you anymore?” he asked quietly.
“I’ll have you. And you’ll be enough.”
“I don’t know if I am.” Atlas’s voice cracked, but she pretended not to hear it. “Honestly, I’m scared. I’m scared of losing you. But I’m even more scared of forcing you down a path you don’t want to be on.”
“You’re not forcing me to do anything!” Avery protested, but it was as if he hadn’t heard.
“You’re incredible, Aves,” Atlas said softly. “You’re far too intelligent and talented, too remarkable, to spend your life shut away from the entire world. You belong in the world, laughing and traveling, having friends. You deserve to see everything the world has to offer, and I can’t give you any of that.”
“You and I can have all those things. We’ll make friends, and travel,” Avery started to say, but he was shaking his head.
“And be looking over our shoulder every moment in case someone recognized us, in constant fear of being caught? No, Vermont showed me that’s pretty much impossible.”
Avery’s voice was almost a whisper. “I don’t care about any of that. I would trade it all to be with you.”
Atlas surprised her by taking her hands, clasping them together and wrapping his own hands tight around them. “I know you mean that when you say it now. But I’m terrified of the moment in five years when you turn to me and regret the choice you made. By then it might be too late for you to go back.”
Atlas’s breath was ragged. He looked close to tears. Instinctively, Avery knew that she couldn’t let him cry in front of her, for his sake. She took a step back, her own eyes brimming with grief, and waited.
“Don’t you see? It can’t ever work for us. I’m just saving us heartache, down the road,” Atlas said at last.
Here it is, Avery thought with dreadful certainty. This was really and truly the end.
She couldn’t take it anymore—she flung herself into Atlas’s arms and kissed him, over and over, and this time Atlas returned the kisses, returned them wildly and passionately, and it made Avery’s heart break because she knew deep down that he was kissing her good-bye. She clung tighter to him, pressing her body the whole length of his, trying to hold him so close that he could never leave, as if she might anchor him here through sheer force of will. She wished she could snatch each kiss from the air and tuck it away somewhere safe, because each kiss was one kiss closer to the final kiss of all.
When they finally pulled apart, neither of them spoke. The river rushed on below them. The sounds of the party emanated down as if from another world.
“Okay then,” she said at last, her voice small, because it seemed like one of them should say something.
“Okay then,” Atlas repeated.
Tears gathered in Avery’s eyes, but she swallowed them back. She needed to be strong right now, for Atlas’s sake. So she held back the tears and nodded shakily, even though it cost her more than Atlas would ever know; even though it felt like someone was holding a razor and inflicting a million small cuts all over her skin.
Atlas started to turn away, but paused as if thinking better of it, and reached out to touch Avery one last time. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, traced the line of her jaw, brushed a finger lightly over her lower lip. As if he were blind, and trying to recognize her through nothing but his fingertips.
Avery closed her eyes. She concentrated on memorizing his touch, wanting to stop time and stop the world and hold on to this moment forever, because as long as her eyes were closed, she could believe that Atlas was still here. Still hers.
“I’m sorry, Aves, but I promise it’s better this way,” he said, and then he was gone.
Avery stood there awhile, her eyes firmly shut, just herself and her secrets and her heartbreak alone in the dark.
CALLIOPE
CALLIOPE HAD BEEN dancing and laughing for hours with an almost frantic intensity, keeping an eye out for the Fuller siblings as she made her way through the party, though she hadn’t seen either of them in a while. She took occasional sips from a glass of champagne. The wine tasted sour in her mouth.
All too soon the night would be over, and Calliope would have to confess the truth to her mom: that she’d screwed everything up and they needed to leave, because Avery Fuller knew about them. Still, she sailed on through the crowds, her bright red mouth fixed in an inflexible smile.
She knew she was delaying the inevitable, but Calliope wanted to put off the conversation with her mom for as long as she could. Because once she said it—once she spoke the words aloud—Calliope Brown would be dead. Here lies Calliope Brown, as beautiful as she was vicious. She died without anyone ever truly knowing her, she thought bitterly.
For once, making up an epitaph for her lost alias wasn’t particularly amusing.
She turned a wide loop around the dance floor, wondering if Elise might already be asleep, when she saw a couple on a terrace far below. Something about them seemed familiar, though they were too far away for Calliope to tell. They were ducked behind a NO ACCESS sign, where they probably thought they had utter privacy—and they would have, if not for her. No one else was looking in that direction.
For lack of anything better to do, Calliope craned her neck and zoomed in with her contacts. She was startled to realize that it was Avery and Atlas Fuller.
Avery had tilted her head up, and was talking emphatically to Atlas about something. Probably telling him the truth about Calliope and Elise.
Seized by a morbid sort of curiosity, Calliope zoomed in closer—and became aware of something distinctly odd that was going on between the siblings. The expressions on both their faces, the proprietary way that Avery stepped toward him, lifted the hairs on the back of Calliope’s neck.