Chapter 39

" I don't even know what Addie told them," I groaned while my phone rang, waiting for my parents to answer. "What if we say different things?"

"Then, you fake your death, change your name, and never talk to them again," Simon teased, leaning back on the couch and scribbling something on his tablet.

I glared. "Not funny."

He beamed. "A little funny."

I didn't have time to respond to him, because the video call went through and I came face to face with my enraged mother.

"Lucinda!" she yelled without waiting for me to say hello. "What the hell are you thinking?"

I stiffened in surprise. I couldn't think of the last time my mom yelled at me. Vaguely, I remembered hearing her yell at Addie like this after she came to Paris alone on her honeymoon, but I'd thought it was funny that our parents were so worked up over something that was clearly good for her. With her anger directed toward me, I felt an unfamiliar ache in my chest. Was this how Addie felt when I yelled at her for leaving me?

"Hi, Mom," I tried to say.

"Don't start with that shit. Why aren't you home? You should be applying to hospitals, looking for a new apartment, signing up for a dating app!"

I scoffed at the last one. "I'm not signing up for any dating apps, Mom."

The phone shook as she waved her hands. "When your sister said you were staying with her indefinitely, I about had a coronary. It's bad enough one of my daughters is wasting her life doing nothing, now it's both of them?"

My blood ran cold.

Suddenly, everything made sense. I understood why Addie hadn't come home since she moved and why she always cut her calls with our parents short. I felt her first few weeks in Paris from her perspective—trying to find herself and figure out her life while her parents believed she was wasting it.

I remembered when she called during Sunday brunch to tell us she'd started freelancing. My mother had laughed into her mimosa, and Addie's face fell. She recovered quickly, but ended the call soon after. I hadn't felt it then, but I felt it now.

Perhaps every step of Addie's life in Paris had been a fight. Was that what it would be like for me?

I stared at Mom, holding my breath to keep tears from welling. The last thing I needed was to show my mother my tears of blood. "Is that what you think she's doing?" I asked, my voice trembling. "Wasting her life?"

"She barely works. She spends her time posting about macarons and frolicking around Europe. That's not the life of an adult, Indy. That's not a life for you," Mom scolded.

I shook my head. "She's happy, Mom. Happier than I've ever seen her. I want a chance to be happy like that too. Doesn't that matter?"

"Come back to reality, Indy. Addie will come back eventually too."

If this was even a fraction of what Addie experienced, I had a lot of apologizing to do. This was horrible. A pit formed in my stomach and I could barely breathe.

"I've spent every moment of the last seven years working, Mom. I studied every second of every day in high school and in college. As soon as I graduated, I got a job at the hospital. I worked sixty-hour weeks, and I barely had enough energy after each shift to microwave a frozen dinner before I passed out and did it all again the next day," I said. "I don't regret a moment of it, but I don't want that life anymore. I don't want fifty years to go by, only to look back and realize I never really lived."

Mom scoffed.

I wasn't finished. "And I can't speak for Addie, but if she was as miserable as I was, I'm happy she got out. I'm happy she found a life here in Paris, with people who love her for who she is."

Mom was silent, staring at me with her mouth hanging open.

"Addie won't ever come home, Mom," I continued. "And if you want to be a part of your daughter's life while you can, I suggest you get that out of your head."

Mom huffed. "I didn't call you to talk about Addie. I came to talk about the mistakes you're making."

I pursed my lips, my shoulders slumping. "I'm still figuring some things out. Maybe I'll get another job as a nurse, or I'll go back to school and become an astronomer. Maybe I'll stay in Paris or find a small town in France where I can see the stars. All I know is coming home and staying in my childhood bedroom isn't good for me right now."

"What—an astronomer? Where is this coming from, Indy? You look at one picture of some stars every day and think you can make a career out of it? Where are you, anyway?" Mom barrelled on, breaking another piece of my heart. "That doesn't look like a hotel room."

"Mom," I breathed. "I'm trying to talk to you."

I'd never felt so invisible before, so disregarded and broken.

Across the couch, Simon had abandoned his art and watched me with despair written across his face. I met his gaze for a second, then turned back to Mom and shook my head. She stared at me, waiting for my answer to her question like I hadn't spoken.

My heart hardened. My grief transformed into anger.

"I feel sorry for you," I snarled. Her eyes bulged in surprise. "If you believe the only life worth living is wasting happiness at a nine-to-five job and having mediocre sex with some asshole on a dating app, then I'm sorry. I'm sorry because there's a whole fucking universe out there full of beautiful things—art, history, architecture, literature." My voice cracked. I had to hang up soon; I couldn't hold the tears back much longer. "I'm sorry you can't see that. I'm sorry you don't want that for your children. I'm sorry you're going to lose us for it."

I hung up before she could respond, fumbling with the button and turning it off. Inevitably, she would call back a dozen times. I no longer had the strength to answer.

I tossed the phone on the coffee table and crawled across the couch to nestle myself under Simon's arm with a sob; my body convulsed beneath alternating waves of grief and fury. Simon wrapped his arms around me, holding me against his chest without a word.

After a while, I pushed off him and stood. "I'm going to bed."

"It's three in the afternoon," Simon countered. "Why don't we go for a walk?"

I shook my head. "No, I'm tired."

He said nothing else, but I felt his eyes on me until I shut the bedroom door.

A knock on the front door later that evening roused me from my restless napping. I listened to Simon walk across the apartment and open the door.

"Hi, you don't know me, but my name is Sophie." I tensed at the sound of her voice, my breath catching in my chest. "I'm Holland's sister and a friend of Indy's. I want to know if she's okay."

Simon sucked in a breath and his fingers tapped on the door. "She's in the bedroom. I don't know if she wants company, but you may come in."

Sophie stepped into the apartment. The slight jingle of her boots and the thick smell of dirt revealed she'd come from visiting her horse at the barn. "How is she?" she asked.

I narrowed my eyes, waiting for Simon's response. "She's overwhelmed," he said carefully. "None of this is going how she expected it to."

Sophie sighed. "Addie's been on a rampage. She isn't even responding to Holland anymore. She killed someone last night."

My breath caught in shock. Both vampires in the living room paused, noting that I was awake and listening.

Simon sat on the couch. "I worry I don't know her well enough to help her."

I flinched.

Sophie sat too. "And yet, you're here with her anyway."

Simon chuckled. "I didn't say I wasn't willing to try for her."

"Who is she to you, anyway?" Sophie's voice hardened slightly.

There was a pause before Simon spoke. "I don't know yet; it's barely been a week. But she's brighter than a million stars, and her laugh warms my heart. She asked for my help, and I gave it, and now I just—" Simon said. "I'm going to give her time, and then we'll figure it out."

My cheeks burned. The strangeness of this situation sank into me—though not for the first time. I'd been in Paris for a week, and in that time, I managed to change my entire view on life, die, and find someone who might see the only real version of me that existed. I wasn't sure what I felt for Simon; it was too soon. He felt like my best friend, but best friends didn't do what we did in bed. Did they?

Sophie rubbed her palms on her thighs, her voice pulling my attention back to their conversation. "Let me try. She can come to my apartment for the night—like a girl's night. We'll talk, drink, and have a pillow fight in our underwear. I'm sure everything seems unbearably bad for her right now. Willa and I can show her it's going to be okay."

"And Addie?" Simon asked.

"I don't think Addie is who Indy needs right now."

Simon sighed. "You should be asking her this."

"But you're the one taking care of her, aren't you? Do you think it would help?" Sophie pressed.

"I think Lucinda needs to see that she hasn't lost everything," Simon admitted. My heart ached—it certainly felt like I had.

"What do you say, Indy?" Sophie spoke a little louder, addressing me through the closed door. "Just you, me, and Willa."

I pushed myself out of bed, my body creaking from staying still for so long. The floor was cold beneath my feet, and it groaned when I stopped in front of the door. I was sure my hair was a disaster and there were bags under my eyes. My clothes were wrinkled and there was a bit of drool crusted on my lip. I opened the door and blinked at the last shreds of daylight pouring in through the open window.

"Where's Addie?" I rasped.

"With Holland," Sophie replied. She sat forward on the couch, her eyes overflowing with hope.

I swallowed, looking over at Simon. He waited for my answer with his hands crossed in his lap. "Will you wait for me if I leave?" I breathed.

Simon straightened. "I'm here, Lucinda. I'm not going anywhere."

Relief flooded through me and I looked at Sophie. "Okay, I'll come with you."