The deck was a huge wooden expanse with an unobstructed view of the moonlit sky but no furniture, so I set the tray on the railing and headed back inside for a blanket to sit on. I grabbed the butter-yellow one from the back of the couch, sending a lone tarot card fluttering down onto the floor.
It must’ve gotten lost in the shuffle last night.
I picked it up and turned it over, a smile instantly touching my lips.
It was the Page of Cups—a beautiful young girl with sleek ebony skin and a fish-shaped headdress, her cape and tunic the color of the sea.
She was my Sophie card, just stopping by to say hello.
“I miss you, too, my friend.” Carefully, I tucked her into the shirt pocket of my cloud pajamas, inviting her along on my brownie date, knowing she’d definitely approve.
It wasn’t long before Emilio joined me on the blanket outside, bringing his pan of chocolate heaven. After clinking our spoons together in cheers, we promptly dug in, steam still rising from the gooey center. He’d cooked them perfectly—crispy on the edges, soft and warm inside, the decadent chocolate taste followed by a just-spicy-enough kick of chili pepper.
We’d demolished half the batch when he finally stopped to speak.
“Feel better?” he asked.
“Aside from the stomach ache I’m working on? Yes.”
He took another spoonful, licking it clean. “Chocolate fixes everything, doesn’t it?”
I set my spoon in the pan and leaned back on the blanket, staring up at the moon. It was still mostly full, and the bright light blotted out most of the stars. “Almost everything.”
“Gray…” He seemed to be searching for his words, but I already knew what he was going to say. Why else would he whip up a batch of scratch brownies and hang out with me on the deck?
“It’s not your fault, Emilio,” I said, letting him off the hook. “You weren’t even here.”
“Maybe I should’ve been.”
“Asher and I shouldn’t need a babysitter.”
“No. A mediator, maybe.” Emilio stretched out on his side and propped up his head, facing me. “He was wrong to push you so hard. To say those awful things. I’m sorry you had to deal with that,querida.”
“You don’t have to apologize for anyone,” I said. “Especially Asher. That demon can handle his own messes.”
“Not you,” Emilio said softly.
“He hates me,” I said, the realization stinging a hell of a lot more than I wanted to admit. “Case closed.”
“Asher doesn’t hate you. He hates himself. That’s the whole problem.”
“Come on, Emilio. He’s the most egotistical asshole I’ve ever met. Tell me that’s not true.”
“Being full of yourself and hating yourself aren’t mutually exclusive. In fact, they often go hand-in-hand.”
I turned away from his soft brown eyes and went back to staring at the moon. I didn’t want to feel bad for Asher—not right now. Not after everything he’d said to me.
He’s gonna carve you up. He’s gonna tear you apart, limb from limb, until all that’s left of you are your shiny blond curls…
“I’m not trying to make excuses for him,” Emilio continued, “but Iamtrying to understand where he’s coming from. I think you are, too.”
“I’ve been trying all along,” I said. “But Asher doesn’t want anyone to get too close. He’d rather stew in his anger and hate the world than admit he has an actual heart in there. And you know what? Let him. I’m done.”
“I don’t blame you for feeling that way.” Emilio unleashed a deep sigh. “This is Asher’s pattern. He starts to care for someone, and the moment they start to reciprocate, he pushes them away. It’s his own form of self-punishment.”
“Why is he punishing himself?”
“Why do any of us? Maybe he feels like he has to atone.”
