Page 83 of Alchemy of Souls

I smile at the old man. “Thank you,” I say. “From the bottom of my heart.”

He waves his hand at me, but I swear his cheeks turn the slightest shade of pink. “Go on with ya.”

CHAPTER 41Grayson

Eloise comes downstairs with a satisfied grin. If I wasn’t already a little in awe of her, I am now.

She walks over to the shoes she picked out, a little bounce in her step and runs her hand over them. “Goodbye, beautiful shoes. It’s been fun.”

Which is when my resolve breaks and I say something I shouldn’t. “No need to say goodbye.” Because the thought of her leaving without them is criminal.

She turns. “You arenotbuying me these shoes,” she says like I just proposed.

I shrug, trying to play it off. “I said I would when we walked in here.”

“As a con, Grayson, because you’re—” She makes a frustrated noise in the back of her throat and grabs me by the wrist, dragging me out of the shop. And I kind of enjoy her dragging me, which is exactly the problem.

Eloise pulls me across Main Street, which is currently bustling with weekend shoppers, and into a park I used to play in as a kid, only stopping when we’re alone under a tree.

Then she pushes me with both hands. “What the hell, Grayson?”

“You know, I’ve never been accosted for offering to buy someone shoes before,” I say.

She pokes me in the chest. “Youdo notget to do this. You do not get to have it both ways.”

I exhale. “I’m not—”

“Save it,” she says.

And she’s right. I’m crossing a line, one that I set and can’t seem to follow. “Okay, then why don’t you tell me about the cobbler,” I reply, trying to move into safer territory.

“I don’t think I will,” she says.

“How are we supposed to figure this out if you don’t tell me what he said?” I ask.

“How am I supposed to trust you if you keep lying to me?” she replies.

“You have no idea what my truth looks like,” I say.

“Then explain it to me.”

I laugh without humor. “You’ve never met my mother, but you’ve met my uncle and you know what he instructed me to do,” I say, and she flinches. “Lying is necessary in my family. It’s necessary in my life. Period.”

“But it’s not necessarywith me,” she insists.

I rub the back of my neck. “There’s a lot about my life you don’t know,” I say. “There are things that I’m not going to tell you.”

She shakes her head. “I’m not asking for every detail.”

“Things you would hate me for.”

“I doubt that,” she says, and her confidence stings. Because I can’t live up to it.

When I don’t reply she says, “Try it,” like a challenge.

“What do you meantry it?” I ask cautiously.

“Tell me something, Grayson. Anything. But it has to be about you and it has to be true. It has to matter,” she says.