Twenty-two human years. In exactly one month I would be twenty-two human years old—the oldest I had ever been in my entire existence. I couldn’t see the differences in my face that others pointed out, but my shoulders were broader, my hair thicker, and my beard grew more coarsely now, maybe even slightly darker. My voice was quite a bit deeper too—a change I know Ara, my Ara, would have loved. A part of me wanted to lift my shirt and see the hair that had grown in over what were once only sporadic patches across my chest, but I couldn’t bring myself to look.
I shut the world out for a moment and imagined her walking up behind me as I stood here shaving, sliding her hands around my waist, maybe slipping my towel off and letting it land on the floor at my feet. Maybe I’d be comfortable with her touch; maybe I’d be okay as she lifted the shirt above my head and saw what I hid beneath it. Maybe once.
But not in this life. Not the way things were now—the way she was. The way I was.
“You okay?” Ara said, smirking at me through the mirror.
I snapped back to reality, forgetting for a moment that she was alive—that this version of her was—and quickly turned off the running water. “What are you doing here?”
“I was shopping—remember, for wedding dresses?”
“Oh.” I cleared my throat and readjusted my towel to make sure it wouldn’t fall off and scare her. “Um… sorry, I’m not with it.”
“Are you still on that medication?”
“Yeah.” I looked at my bare feet. “Until I feel normal again.”
When Ara sighed, I looked at her. She unfolded her arms and walked across the wet tiles, gently sliding her arms around my waist and pressing her body up against me. I wanted to hug her back, but she’d hurt me too deeply of late, and I couldn’t bring myself to touch her. At all.
“I’m sorry, David—”
“Why?”
“I know you’re sad because of me—”
“I’ll get over it,” I said coldly, pushing past her. Then I stopped and glanced back, remembering Elora’s warning. “Did you come in here for a reason?”
“I need to tell you something.”
Great. It was bad news. I wasn’t sure I could handle any more bad news.
“Cal’s coming over tonight,” she said.
“Ara.” I moaned, turning away. “I don’t need to hear this.”
“It’s not what you think—”
“Then what is it?” I yelled, lowering my voice on the end so I wouldn’t wake Harry. His door was closed, but he was a light sleeper. “Because if you’re here to tell me you’re taking things to the next level with him, don’t. Just spare me, okay? I don’t care anymore—”
“It’s not that.” She walked out of the bathroom and stopped so close to me I could feel her breath as she spoke. “I’m going to tell him what I am—”
“What?”
“Shhh.” She jerked her head toward Harry’s door. “I need a friend, David—”
“So I’m not good enough as a friend now either?”
“You are not my friend right now.” Her voice got louder. “You barely speak to me. You don’t look at me—”
“What do you expect?”
“Nothing.” She sounded exhausted. “I don’t expect anything from you, but you can’t expect me not to confide in Cal, when he’s the only friend I’ve got.”
It hurt to hear her say that, but it was true. I couldn’t be her friend because I loved her. Elora couldn’t be a friend because Elora loved me. She would never sit and talk with Ara about how little she loved me. Who else did this girl have? Brett? He would only encourage her love for me. Vicki? Again, she was on my side. Everyone was. And that’s how it had to be. Ara needed to feel like an outsider until she could damn well learn to love me.
“Fine.” I walked into my wardrobe. “Tell him.”
“I wasn’t asking your permission.” She followed me, her hand shooting out when I tried to shut the door in her face. “I just wanted you to know.”
“Well, now I know, so”—I shooed her away—“it’s time for you to leave.”
Her stone face dropped and her throat shifted, her mouth turning down on the corners before she gained composure and just nodded, turning away. I hated hurting her like that, but it was hard not to when I also hated her.
And then, as she walked away, my heart completely melted.
“Ara.” I reached out and grabbed her by the wrist, wishing I could go back to that moment in the bathroom when she hugged me. “I’m sorry.”
“What for?” she asked in a small voice, looking at her feet to hide her tears.
“I was harsh. I’m sorry.” I wanted to say more. I wanted to hold her and tell her that I would eventually forgive her for planning to steal my son, but I wasn’t sure I could ever trust her again. And that hurt me. Deeply. My Ara would never have done something so dumb. I wanted to tell her I hated her as much as I loved her, but I knew she wouldn’t understand. How could she?
For now, it was probably just safer if she stayed away, but we shared Harry, which meant we had to share space. I’d made myself scarce lately, but our paths crossed often, and I usually managed to make her cry. The vampire in me might have been dead, but his cruel streak was still very much alive.
“Um, I almost forgot,” she said, forcing a smile. “Elora wants to show you the dress we finally picked out. And you need to take your credit card with you.”
“How much is it?” I asked, wearing a real smile for the first time in weeks.
“A few thousand,” she said, as though it was no big deal. But then, I suppose, it wasn’t. Not for my little girl.
“Did… did you enjoy shopping?” I asked, extending the olive branch.
“Yeah.” Something in her waning smile made me wonder if I should ask Elora that question—if maybe something had happened to hurt Ara’s feelings. I was amazed then that I actually still cared.
“Is it… was it painful?” I asked.
“Painful?”
“Uh… in the sense of… did it break your heart, knowing your little girl is getting married? Because it breaks mine.” I laughed it off, but I still couldn’t picture my world with Elora married.
“I guess I haven’t had time to process,” she said, clearly still hurt. “I have to go.”
“Say hi to Cal for me.”
“I will.”
“Hey, Ara,” I called.
She stopped in the doorway.
“Are you going to tell him about me?”
“About you?”
“Yeah, that… that we were married?”
She hesitated, but eventually nodded, hugging her body to make herself smaller. “That was the plan. Do you not want me to?”
“No, I…” Of course I wanted her to. “I was just curious.”
As she left, giving nothing more than a nod to confirm once again that she was telling Cal the whole truth, my entire stomach wanted to fall out through my ass. She was so easy to hurt that sometimes it made hating her dangerous. For both of us. It took the smallest comment or a harsh look, and she would sit there silently for a long time, clearly holding it in. I asked Falcon if he’d noticed how sensitive she was, and he said she’d always been that way—even before she died. I wasn’t sure I agreed. But I was aware of it now and knew I had to watch myself because, sometimes, knowing she was easy to hurt just made it that much more enjoyable.