For once, Calypso doesn’t have a retort for him. She’s standing quietly in front of me, arms tightly wrapped around herself. Whatever expression she’s wearing brings a smug smile to his face.
“Tell Vivi I said congratulations,” he mocks and steps into his car.
We all watch him drive away before Lucas and Adrian silently grab another load of bar materials and walk to the back, leaving Calypso and me alone.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask what he meant. I don’t. Not now—not here.
“I’m going to go check on Vivi.” Her tone is as dull as the lifeless look in her eyes.
I grab her wrist. “Calyp—”
She shakes me off and glares at me. “Don’t.”
Instantly, I drop her arm. We stand there, staring at each other in silence for a few seconds before she strides up the porch stairs and locks the door behind her.
The ceremony was beautiful but quick and the dinner hour has passed.
Now, there are about fifty people scattered across the Millers’ and Davies’ connected backyards as we listen to the speeches. Even Jo took a break from the bar to sit next to me.
Calypso is up there now, putting on her best face to recollect her years of memories with Vivi and Grady. How, much like everyone else in their families, she always knew they’d end up together eventually. How important both of them are to her and that she couldn’t think of a more perfect fit.
Word of Stefan’s visit has spread through her family. Bonnie tried to pull Calypso aside which almost caused an argument until Asher stepped in.
Really, he’s the only person she’s been willing to spend time with tonight. Other than for appearances, she’s avoided me as much as possible. We shared one dance but she refused to speak, even when I avoided the topic of Stefan entirely.
Something about what he said deeply affected her. I don’t know if it was the part about how I should leave her—nothappening—or how she “killed” everything he’s ever wanted.
From what I’ve gathered about him (without the help of a PI, like a fucking normal person), he comes from an affluent family. He has a successful, respected career. Calypso was just a blip of time in his life—or, shecouldhave been—but he refuses to let her go.
Can’t say I blame him, but it doesn’t make sense.
As soon as she’s done with her speech, Calypso walks off the makeshift dance floor toward the glasses of champagne on the bar. Instead of staying for the rest of the speeches, she slips into her mom’s house.
Biting my lip, I look around and wait a minute. Two. Then I slowly lift off my chair, I follow Calypso inside and up the stairs. At least, I think she went this way. I couldn’t see much from my seat.
A ladder is pulled down, leading to the attic. Curiosity gets the best of me and I carefully climb up them. Each one creaks louder than the last, but when I find Calypso, she’s sitting on what I imagine is her teenage bed, staring out the window. Her head never turns.
After a moment of hesitation, I walk into her line of vision. When I block the window view, her eyes finally meet mine.
“Leave.”
That’s it. One word.
Leave.
Not even “move.”
“I’ll leave the room,” I say, but I lean against the dresser and cross my ankles. “But I’m not leavingyouunless you tell me to.”
Anger cloaks her features but there’s so much hurt—so much fear—underneath. “I just told you to leave!”
“Let me rephrase that.” My tone is light, only making her more irate. “Unless youwantme to. Do you want me to leave, Calypso?”
She doesn’t say anything but her eyes widen the slightest bit.
“Should I go pack my shit up and take Rosie somewhere else?” I goad her. “All because your fuck ass ex-husband said I should?”
It’s there, in her eyes—her care for me, her terror of being left—but all that I get is anger.
