“Yes. That’s exactly what I mean.”
“That was glaringly transparent.”
“You know what this is?” she said, completely ignoring me. “This is the universe manifesting shit. I can feel it.”
God. “What if Maven says no?”
“Maven won’t say no if you say yes. She’d never be the one who let down anyone on her own. Along with others, in a group, hell yeah, she’ll say no. But she won’t ever be the bad guy alone. It’s not her way. She only disappoints in the company of others.”
“This is why it’s hard to love you,” I told her.
She was suddenly clapping softly. “That means you love me.”
I groaned, and she gave me the pouty lip and the Bambi eyes and I was done. I couldn’t say no to her, and it sounded like fun—or not—but either way, it would be new. And mostly, getting on a plane every year and leaving Eli was physically painful.
“How can you say he’s not your boyfriend?” Luna said a moment later. “Don’t you two date?”
I refused to go over it again.
“You’re with him all the time. If I run into you when we’re out, he’s always there. He comes to every opening-night performance, and he’s on your arm at every function. I mean, Cel…how is he not your boyfriend?”
“Listen, it’s complicated, but—”
“I need to talk about Senan now,” she said with a sigh. “I felt like shit about him all night. Tell me I’m not a bad person because I don’t care that he’s dead.”
The good news was she was being honest about how she felt. The bad news was I could offer no guidance, as I felt the same. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been wrestling with that myself.”
“You have?”
I nodded. “I’m at a loss over how to feel. I mean, when people you can’t stand die, what’s the correct thing to do beyond just being civil when speaking about them in public?”
“Right?”
“I don’t know what else to do but send flowers to his family.”
“Well,” Luna said, “I didn’t answer the phone at all after I went home last night, and I saw this morning I missed a call from Lincoln.”
“Why was he calling you?” I asked, feeling annoyed for her.
“Now there, see? That’s exactly how I felt when I saw his number in my list of notifications. My heart didn’t go out to him that he’d lost his lover. I was just annoyed that he tried to call me.”
“I get it.”
“What are you going to eat?” she asked. “The waitress is coming this way with our drinks, and we need to be ready to order because I’m freaking starving and I don’t want to let her get away.”
Luna had lox and capers and tomatoes and eggs, no bagel—too many carbs—and I had eggs and sundried tomatoes and quinoa. It was good, and I felt better after I ate, even though I was going to need to run, like, ten miles to get it all off.
As we sat, we talked, and I told her everything I knew up to that point.
“I feel kinda bad now,” she said when I was done.
“About what?”
“For taking those pictures of Senan with that guy to try and get him in trouble with Lincoln.”
“But that was before everything happened,” I countered, defending her actions. “You had no idea he was going to die.”
“No, I know.”