“You’re not developing feelings for that guy, are you? He’s cooked,” Jude said, looking alarmed.
“Hell, no. He should rot in prison. I guess I should feel lucky that I had a sick stalker and a serial killer after me,” I said. “What’s a girl supposed to do when everyone wants to kill her?”
Jude squeezed my hand. “I was terrified when I pulled you out of the pond. You stopped breathing just as the paramedics arrived.” Jude’s eyebrows knitted together. “I just… I don’t want… to lose you.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said and squeezed his hand. “Wehave a lot of living to do, andwemight want to look at apartments in Chicago.”
“Wait—we?” Jude’s eyes brightened. “Weshould? Together? You mean that?”
“Absolutely.”
The door to my hospital room swung open, and my whole nuclear family rushed in.
“Oh! My baby!” Mom cried, flying to my bed and giving me a giant hug. “I am never letting you out of my sightagain.”
Olivia, long pink ponytail swaying, grabbed my hand. “There she is,” she said and grinned at me.
“This is a whole new level even for you, Thin Ice,” Oscar said, but he was smiling.
Dad shook his head and reached out to grab my hand. “Thin Ice? Never,” he said, surprising us all since he rarely said much. “She’s tough and never cracks.” He flashed me a look of pride.
Oscar came to the side of my bed, and Dad shuffled off to the side. My brother dipped down and hugged me.
“I’m so sorry,” he told me.
“Why are you sorry?”
“She was right under my nose,” Oscar said. “Tammy. I missed her. You almost…” He trailed off as his voice got thick with emotion. My brother did love me, and I could see clearly just how much in his tortured face.
“I am going to kill that Tammy Anderson,” Mom said. “I just… I never even thought for one second…”
“Nobody did,” I said, meeting Oscar’s gaze. “She fooled us all.”
Oscar sniffed hard and nodded.
“Ted’s beside himself, you know,” Olivia said. “He had no idea, either. The Streamberry people are hassling him for interviews.”
“They’re already making a documentary? It’s beenone day,” I said, dumbfounded.
Dad shook his head in disapproval.
“What we really need here isDateline,” Mom said.
“I heard they might also be coming to town,” Olivia said.
“Really?” Mom beamed, unable to contain her excitement. “I wonder if they’ll interview me? Theyhaveto interview me, don’t they? I’ll need to get my hair done.” Mom fluffed her long black waves. “Oh! Maybethisis how I get on the cover ofVogue? I knew it. I knew Octavia was right all along.”
Eight months later
The smell of a freshly cooked omelet wafted from the kitchen in the Chicago Lake View apartment Jude and I shared on the firstfloor of an old brownstone, as I sat straight up in our bed, the early June sunshine seeping in through the curtains. I swung my knees over the side of the bed and stretched. I was wearing one of Jude’s Cheese Council shirts, since he’d gotten two of them after starting his new job at the beginning of the year.
He spent the first months on the job commuting the two hours from Lake Sanguis, but now we’d finally found an apartment and moved in together. I tugged on a pair of leggings and then padded down the hall in bare feet, past our stack of as yet unpacked boxes and toourmarble-countered kitchen.
“How did you even find a pot?” I asked him, amazed. The movers arrived late yesterday, dumping all of Jude’s boxes around six in the evening and walking his furniture up the front stoop and through the narrow front door of our old building. Thankfully, our apartment was air-conditioned by two hardworking window units.
“Because I labeled my boxes.” Jude dipped down to kiss me, a smug smile on his face. He didn’t just label his boxes; he had a corresponding spreadsheet for each numbered box, listing every single item contained within. Meanwhile, I’d pretty much thrown my meager belongings into a few trash bags, which were piled up in the corner of the living room.
“I’m not sure I can live with someone this anal-retentive,” I warned him after we broke the kiss and Jude turned back to the stove and gently lifted the edges of the eggs cooking in the pan. “Or someone who wants to hang aFortune Fatedmask on the wall.” I nodded to Jude’s small gaming corner of our living room, a small shrine to all thingsFortune Fated.
