Chapter 26

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

BELLA

" A date ?" Mom says that morning, sitting at the obsidian bar of the well-equipped kitchen, sipping a coffee.

I nod. "Yeah, Mom, a date. I know this is sudden, but I think Matt's a good man despite everything that's happened. I know it might sound crazy, but you've always trusted me before, and look, we're here. We're safe. Nothing bad has happened."

Mom frowns, looking at me closely. I can tell she's trying to work out if I've lost my mind or under duress. Maybe she thinks Matt is blackmailing or threatening me somehow. She takes a long sip of her coffee when she sees I'm not hiding anything.

"You're in love with this man, young lady."

"In love ?"

"What else would you like me to call it? You're glowing. You seem different. No, that's not it. You look just like you did as a little girl, all full of hope for the future before …"

Reaching across the bar, I touch her hand. "Before what, Mom?"

"Before you realized how poor we were. How hopeless our situation was."

"Our situation was never hopeless. Just look at us. We're doing well for ourselves. Don't be melodramatic, okay? And please, no more in-love talk. We've texted more than talked, and it hasn't even been a week."

"I believe what my eyes tell me. That's all I know."

We sit silently for a while, both of us drinking our coffees. I try not to let her words take too strong of a grip on me. The idea of falling in love always seemed distant to me, and that hasn't changed because of some texts and kissing and closeness. Has it? Can it?

"Do you want to help me get ready?" I ask.

Mom looks up from her coffee. It takes a while, but slowly, a smile touches her lips. "I never told you, but I sometimes wished you'd go on dates in high school. Nothing crazy, but so that we could have that mom-daughter bonding."

"It's never too late, Mom. You're proof of that."

Sitting in the guesthouse's living room, I wait for Matt to pick me up. I try to convince myself that I'm only doing this for Mom's tuition. I had to give myself that excuse when I offered to help. Truthfully, I offered because Matt looked like he needed it. Something deep inside tugged, like a musical note thrummed in us both.

I'm going to be about fifteen minutes, his text reads.

Okay, I reply. I'm ready. Are we going anywhere fancy? I put on my nicest dress, but that's not saying much.

You could wear sweats and a hoodie and still be the most beautiful woman in any room you walked into, Bella. You don't have to worry about the way you look, ever. If you want something to entertain you till I get there, Sofia found a video of me from when I was in my mid-twenties. She enjoys going through Mom's old DVDs when she's bored.

What sort of video?

It's me playing the guitar.

You play the guitar?!

"Good news?" Mom asks from the other couch, which makes me realize a glowing smile has spread across my face, matching the same glow expanding in my chest.

"Matt plays guitar. I didn't even know."

Mom looks at me in that searching way again. Her expression is torn, almost like she wants to be selflessly pleased for me, but she's worried about letting her feelings get too far ahead.

I did once upon a time, he replies. Nothing serious.

Do you still have one?

I'm sure I've got one around here somewhere.

Then maybe I don't want a video. Perhaps I want a live performance!

Are you serious? he texts.

Deadly, I reply, then realize that might not be the best choice of words considering the circumstances. Yet with Matt, we can pretend all the other stuff is just a far-off song with notes we can barely hear.

I guess I'm bringing my guitar, then.

Bubbles dance in my belly.

"We bonded over music," I mutter, "but I thought he was just taking an interest in his sister's passion. I didn't know he …"

I trail off when I realize there are tears in Mom's eyes. Standing up from the couch, I rush across the room and sit beside her. "What's wrong?"

"I haven't seen you this happy in years."

She breaks down into sobs, turning and pushing her face against my chest. I hold her tightly, letting her cry. She doesn't have to explain the rest of it. I know she feels guilty for letting me pay her way through college. She wishes she could see me like this more often. She had hoped our lives could have been different, but it wasn't all bad. All that flows between us wordlessly as we hold each other.

"I'm going to freshen up," she says once she finishes sobbing. Standing over me, she smiles shakily, bravely somehow. "Enjoy yourself, okay? Whatever else happens, and however this ends, enjoy yourself ."

I go to Emily's room, knocking lightly and opening it to find her sitting cross-legged on the bed in a patch of sunlight, a notebook open in her lap, her cheeks flushed.

"Creative mania?" I say with a wink. She always gets the same look when she's in a poetry frenzy.

She beams back at me. "How did you guess?"

I grin. "I'll leave you to it."

"Have fun!" she calls after me.

In the living room, my phone vibrates again. I snatch it so eagerly. I never cared much about texting before Matt came along. This text is from Sofia.

Hey, I was wondering if you still wanted to be my violin teacher.

Definitely! You're making such great progress already. When we have a chance, we'll get another lesson in.

Okay, phew. I just thought that because of "the stuff."

"The stuff" doesn't need to affect us, I tell her.

I don't add this part, but anyway, my attitude to the stuff —the Mafia, the killing, the darkness—isn't what it probably should be. Maybe an ordinary girl would instantly hate Matt. Perhaps a normal girl would be terrified he was going to hurt her. It turns out I'm not normal. It turns out the music in my heart is darker than even I knew.

I'm coming over now , Matt texts.

With your guitar?

As my lady requested, I'll serenade you in the limo.

The limo?

Walking to the front window of the guesthouse, I see the limo pulling up. Shameful or not, cray-cray or not, I can't stop smiling.