“I think I preferred it when I thought it was real,” I said. “It was cleaner. I don’t know what to do with myself now. It still feels the same. There’s still a hole inside me. I still can’t trust him. But now those feelings feel wrong.”
It was wicked, and classic Theo. I could never be clear in the head, emotions simple and with a logical beginning, middle, and end. He had to step in the middle, throwing them to a thousand different beginnings and endings.
I’d told him lies to protect him—at least, that was what I told myself.
If Gemma was telling the truth… I took another long swig of tequila, relishing the burn and bite. Theo and I played our games of truth or promise, but with every truth, more lies bled, and our promises were made with fingers crossed.
Gemma and I drank and got drunker. I chewed on my hoodie string. It tasted like wool and faintly, so faintly, Theo. The part of the hoodie I’d spilled wine on was faint, but visible. I rubbed it, remembering him, his promises to me.
The drunker I got, the more mishmashed my emotions became, and the looser our tongues got.
“So, like… how does he fuck?”
“Gem—” I coughed on the tequila. “Gemma!”
Theo was safe. The reckless, exhilarating, freeing kind of safe that was falling strapped to a bungee cord or skydiving with a parachute. Even the night he destroyed me, Theo had been my safety net.
Sweet girl, that would break you.
I swiped away hot tears.
“Yikes, that bad?”
“No…” A jagged, cutting sigh. “That good.”
I focused on the blurry tequila.
“So we’re like friends now?” I asked, eyeing Gemma. This had been the most we’d talked to each other in years.
Gemma laughed. “Fuck no. But not enemies is a start. Maybe we’ll throw less food at each other.”
“No promises.” I paused with the tequila to my lips, a small smile escaping. “Not enemies.”
I handed her the tequila.
“Not enemies,” she agreed.
Something inside me slammed together at her words, tightening, fixing.
Your bracelet will break if you keep building it with brittle wire.
Theo had seen into me. He’d always seen into me, and he’d known I’d used corroded wire to hold my most precious feelings. Over and over it had broken, leaving me in shambles. But now one wire had started to heal.
Gemma shoved the tequila in my face. “You look like you’re going to cry. If you do that, I’m going to kick you out.”
I took the alcohol, focusing on the burning in my throat and not the constant burning in my eyes.
“So, look,” Gemma said suddenly. “Newt is a total dildo, and you deserve better”—I opened and closed my mouth in shock at the compliment—“but do you think you could give this all up? I know you like your dog—”
“Theo,” I all but growled.
She raised her eyebrows like okay, whatever. “I know you like him but, we have everything. Do you know how rare that is? We are above laws. We exist in a world only a few will ever taste. This is as close to paradise as anyone can ever know. Horace doesn’t expect me to be loyal. I don’t expect it of him. Nothing is going to change.”
Maybe that was the problem.
Eve had thought paradise was a prison, so she took a taste of something else.
“Not much is asked of us,” Gemma said. “We just have to marry. We can fuck whoever we want. You can live in an entirely separate part of the world from Newt so long as you play nice for parties. I don’t want to be like Uncle Albert. He has nothing. Do you want to be like that?”