Chapter 14

“Adrink?” I echoed incredulously, partially unable to believe what I was hearing. Had she listened to me at all? I’d thrown out my plan of apologizing the moment she’d acted like she’d done nothing wrong—like she hadn’t been playing a game of cat and mouse the entire time we’d known each other. I understood that leaving her there was a terrible thing to do, and I would apologize, but her voice was so brutal, so cold, and suddenly, I wasn’t sure I wanted her around anymore.

Eliza fiddled with her blanket. “I owe you an explanation.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” I said, stepping back. “In fact, I’m going to go upstairs, and you’re going to go.”

“I’ve been an asshole,” Eliza blurted, then covered her mouth with both hands. I raised an eyebrow and motioned for her to continue. “You’ve done nothing but try to be nice to me, even when I show up unannounced like a stalker at your house expecting you to chauffeur me around the city like you have nothing better to do—especially then—and I’ve been a complete and utter asshole.”

“Why?”

“Why?” she echoed, then visibly shivered. “Can we get a drink, and I’ll explain?”

I shook my head. “I want one genuine answer before I go anywhere with you.”

We were locked in a standoff for a long moment, our eyes burning into each other. I refused to go anywhere with Eliza until she gave me something—anything to explain why she continued pulling away from me. I couldn’t trust that leaving with her would give me any answers or consolation, so I wouldn’t do it until she extended an olive branch. Conflict brewed in her pretty eyes as she contemplated how much to tell me. First, I saw anger. Then, regret. Reluctance. Fear. Anger again.

Finally, she nodded. “My family is at home in South Carolina, and I am here in Paris. Alone.”

Her last word rang through me more powerfully than the rest, as it was the most meaningful. While she was literally alone in Paris, there was a sense of finality with her choice. She was alone—separated from her family by more than the Atlantic Ocean.

“One drink,” I agreed.

Half an hour later, I sat at a bar beside Eliza while she stared at the menu without reading anything. She’d told me she couldn’t read French, though after I asked what her drink of choice was, an awkward silence had settled between us and she’d busied herself pretending.

With a sigh, I signaled the bartender and ordered a glass of chardonnay and a whiskey neat.

“You’re a wine girl?” she said, clearing her throat.

“It’s more delicious than whiskey,” I countered, trying to lighten the mood.

She shrugged but was quiet for a while after that. Just when I thought she would say nothing else, she spoke. “The only way I know to deal with extreme pain is avoidance and eventually cruelty.”

“And you’re in pain?” I countered with a raised eyebrow.

She opened her mouth like she would deny it, her brow furrowing. Then, she slumped. “All I know is pain.”

The bartender returned with two drinks, and I politely requested that he continue filling my glass every time it was empty. He winked before continuing down the bar to another patron. When I turned my attention back to Eliza, a dark expression graced her eyes as she watched the bartender go, though she quickly schooled her features.

I lifted my glass and chugged down the chardonnay, resisting the urge to stand and storm away.

Throughout my life, I’d found easy companionship in most people. I enjoyed conversation and prided myself on making people laugh and smile. When I met Willa, we bonded quickly over our love of horses and our desire to explore Paris. Once Addie was added to the mix, we fell into an easy routine.

With Eliza, I felt like I was forcing every sentence from her. The night had barely begun, and I was exhausted. I said nothing else and waited for her to continue. If she didn’t, I would leave, and that would be the end of whatever this was between us.

It took two more full glasses of wine for Eliza to speak. By the time she did, I was seconds away from leaving.

“At the Eiffel Tower, there was a mother and her daughter. She was around three. She kept asking her mother to lift her so she could touch the tower,” Eliza said as I downed the last of my third glass of wine. I was feeling the buzz of alcohol in the back of my mind, and it was making me impatient.

“I remember them,” I interrupted.

“My sister, Megan, turned three yesterday. She’s my whole world.” She turned to look at me then, her eyes widening. “Have you ever watched a child grow up?”

I shook my head.

Red tears formed in Eliza’s eyes, and she wiped them away on the hem of her shirt. “My mother had me when she was very young, only fifteen. And when she got pregnant thirty-two years later, it was a big deal. The whole family agreed it was a blessing from God, even when the doctors warned us against getting our hopes up.” Eliza drew in a breath. “But everything went right, and Megan was born. She was perfect. The most perfect little sister a girl could ever ask for.”

I held my breath and waited for the sad part of this story.

Eliza wiped her eyes again. The longer she talked, the thicker her accent seemed. “She’s not dead; I made it sound like she was. She’s at home with my mama and my daddy, and my grandparents, and every member of our huge, loud family. She probably had strawberry cake yesterday and opened a dozen presents.”

“And you’re here,” I finished quietly, understanding sinking into me.

“And I’m here.”

“Eliza,” I murmured as my stomach flipped. She raised her eyes to meet mine. “Why are you in Paris?”

It was the third time I’d asked the question. This time, I expected an answer.

Eliza’s lips quivered. She lifted her glass and downed the rest of her whiskey. I motioned for the bartender to bring her another one. He did without hesitation. When he set it on the bar top, Eliza snatched it off the countertop and gulped it down. I watched in surprise. The amber liquid drained lower and lower until it was entirely gone. With a gasp, she lowered the empty glass and grimaced.

Finally, she looked at me. “I became a vampire when I was twenty-two. I was supposed to go in for an appendectomy, a routine procedure. Except, everything went wrong, and I bled out on the table. When I woke up in the morgue, the doctor who turned me was waiting. He explained what he’d done to save me, and then he left.”

Another prolonged silence.

Again, I waited.

Eliza placed her hands flat on the table. “That was thirteen years ago.”

I knew where her story was going next.

“Over the last few years, my family started commenting about how young I looked, how I never changed, and how I was never sick. The longer time passed, the closer I came to thirty-five, and the more the comments came. That’s when I knew it was time to go.”

Time to go.

Eliza’s words echoed off every crevice of my mind and seeped like sadness into my bones as I stared at her. She looked down at her empty glass, picking at her nails in her lap with a trembling breath.

There came a time in every vampire’s life when they would have to watch their loved ones die—their parents, their siblings, their grandparents, cousins, and friends. Long before then, though, they had to say goodbye for exactly the reason Eliza described. Inevitably, the people closest to them would notice that they did not age—that, at some point, they had become frozen in time and now existed outside of it.

I supposed I was lucky. Out of all the goodbyes I had to make throughout my life, my parents left me long before I ever had to think about leaving them. My mother died when I was barely old enough to remember her at all, and my father passed the year before I became a vampire. I had my brother for eternity, which was more of a blessing than I could have ever asked for.

That didn’t mean I wasn’t familiar with the large, gaping wound goodbyes left behind.

Another round of drinks was set in front of us.

I raised my glass to clink it against Eliza’s. She pursed her lips and took a sip, resisting gulping the whole thing down again.

I drew in a breath. “Tell me about Megan.”

“Rub salt in the wound, why don’t you?” She growled.

I placed my hand on top of hers and met her gaze evenly. “Tell me about Megan,” I repeated.

Eliza’s breath shook. She patted the backpack at her feet. “This is hers, and the blanket inside it too. I thought it would smell like her for longer, but now it’s just a ratty pink backpack that once belonged to a little girl.”

I hummed. “That’s not her.” Eliza stiffened. I traced my fingers along her knuckles. “I want to know.”

She schooled her expression and started again. “She has the brightest red hair, like flames, and so much of it. It’s curly, too. We aren’t sure where that came from; the rest of us have stick-straight hair. But my Nana’s hair is red, so she dotes on Megan like no other. We live on a small farm—horses, goats, chickens, the whole thing. Megan’s such an outdoorsy little thing. She’s always covered in dirt or horse shit from helping Dad in the barn.” Eliza raised her eyes to meet mine, and a red tear streamed down her cheek. “She’s going to grow up so loved, and she’s going to have the most wonderful life. And she won’t remember me at all.”

I squeezed her hand. “What about your parents? Won’t they tell her about her sister?”

This time, she shrugged. “I love my family, and they love me. But my town is the kind where you live and you die, and you never leave.” She took a drink. I did too. “Someone in my high school class left for college, and her parents never spoke of her again; it was like she never existed.”

I hummed and rested my chin on my palm, listening.

Eliza chuckled. “It doesn’t help that the whole town knows I like women, so no one ever wanted to talk about me anyway. Like saying my name would summon me.”

“She who must not be named.” I grinned with a teasing laugh.

She let out a long breath, her eyes flicking over to me. I noticed then how they dragged over me ever so slowly. She shook herself out of whatever she was thinking, her eyes locking with mine. “You have a nice laugh, you know.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Yeah, I do, actually.”

“You’re confident.” She raised an eyebrow.

I sipped my wine. “I can be.”

She dragged her tongue over her bottom lip while contemplating something, then seemed to relax even further. “Okay, I told you my life story. Your turn.”

I snorted. “I have two hundred years on you; we’ll be here all night.”

“That’s okay,” she breathed, and I got the feeling she meant it.

I let out a breath. “I was born in 1836 in Coventry, England. It was me, my mama and papa, and Holland—my older brother.”

Eliza’s breath caught. “You mentioned you live here with your brother.”

My smile was soft. “My brother has been the only constant in my life. He’s my best friend, my rock, and the reason I’m alive.”

“He made you a vampire, then?” Eliza tilted her head.

I cleared my throat. “He’s never really talked about the events leading up to his own death—and I’m not sure I want to know—but he was there the night I died. When I woke up a vampire, he cried for hours, begging my forgiveness and telling me he couldn’t live forever without me.”

I shivered at the memory of waking up in bed, deathly cold with a hunger that would eventually become second nature. It took me years to forgive Holland for taking my choice away. Eventually, I realized I never wanted to die in the first place, and perhaps living forever wouldn’t be so bad if I had my brother.

I moved the conversation toward easier topics. “My roommate, Willa, is a new vampire. I think she died in August, maybe?”

“How’s that been?” Eliza asked curiously.

“She’s doing exceptionally well. Vampirism came naturally to her,” I said. “And she’s wonderful. She comes to the barn with me all the time, and she has the best little cat.”

“That’s right,” Eliza hummed. “You showed me your horse. What do you do?”

A smile tugged at my lips. “I’m a show jumper—at least in this lifetime, with this horse. I’ve done it all, though.”

“Amazing.” When she looked up at me then, her eyes were brighter than I’d ever seen them and the golden sparkle within the blue took my breath away.

“Thank you,” was all I could squeak out when she looked at me like that.

I felt it then, deep in my bones and in my blood. When Eliza inevitably left, her goodbye would tear my bleeding heart to shreds.

And I wasn’t sure I’d be able to put it together again.

I gripped my wine glass. “Another round?”

“I’d love that.”