“It’s not just that Audie’s the cutest baby to ever baby,” Sadie-Grace said on the other end of the phone line. “It’s that he’s objectively a better person than other two-week-olds.”
This was my fourth phone call today detailing the virtues of Audubon Charles Richard Waters, whose legal adoption was currently in process—with Sadie-Grace’s very forgiving father’s full consent.
“Also,” Sadie-Grace continued rapturously, “he’s getting really good at pooping.”
That was where I drew the line. “I’ll see you tonight.” I hung up and turned my attention to a bigger problem. As much as I would have preferred being at Nick’s—with Nick—I had other things on my plate.
Things I found myself wanting to talk to him about. We’ll talk tonight, I promised myself. I’ll see him tonight. But for now . . .
Lily was lying on one of the twin beds in the turret room, dressed in lake-formal clothing and listening to music on her phone. With her blond hair spread out on the pillow and her dark eyes focused on the ceiling, she looked like a doll, perfectly styled and perfectly still.
She’s not okay, Nick had told me when we’d spoken hours earlier and the topic of Lily had come up. But she will be someday. Lily’s tougher than anyone gives her credit for.
I wanted to believe that, believe him.
“Are you sure you want to go to this party tonight?” I asked Lily.
In the interest of full disclosure, I’d told her everything—about Two Arrows and the plans under way to find Ana’s baby. Her only, muted response had been to tell me that Lillian had never mentioned a sister, let alone a twin—no emotion, no real reaction. The fact that neither Our grandmother has a secret twin nor The boy you just broke up with is hatching plans with another girl had penetrated the fog of her emotions was, in a word, concerning.
Nick’s right, I told myself. Lily will be okay. She has to be.
Maybe I’d believe it when he told me in person.
“Ana might be there tonight,” I reminded Lily, since she hadn’t replied to my question about the party. “Are you sure you want to go?” When she didn’t respond, I came closer. “Lily?”
Still no response, so I pulled one of her earbuds out of her ear. “Will you just talk to me?”
For months, I’d been afraid of losing Lily. I’d imagined her shutting me out. I hadn’t imagined her shutting out the world.
Lily forced her eyes from the ceiling to me. “Tonight isn’t just a party, Sawyer. The White Glove text was very specific.” She closed her eyes again in a slow-motion blink, like opening them was harder than it should have been. “This is the last event before they decide who makes it and who’s out.”
Of everything Lily could have chosen to care about, why the White Gloves?
Everyone needs a place to belong, something inside me whispered. I wanted to tell Lily that she didn’t need a secret society. I was right here.
But instead, all I said was: “Okay.”
I sat down beside her. She went to put her earbuds back in, and as she did, I heard the music she’d been listening to.
Only, it wasn’t music.
It was the conversation where Aunt Olivia and Uncle J.D. had argued about the body, on a loop.