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I turn into a den off one of the longer hallways in the house, already relishing the shadows. The subtle, whisper-quiet pull at my spine exhales.
“Artemis.”
A terrified, girly shriek flies out of me like I notched it on my bow. It’s soweird,because Iamstartled, but underneath that, I’m not surprised. My back knocks against the wall from my panicked jump.
“Holy crap, Apollo, you scared me.”
“Did I?” He sets his drink on the side table and unfolds himself from the couch. “I thought you came to find me.”
It’s a simple thing to say, and it doesn’t mean anything. Not anything romantic, anyway, and why would it? Apollo is in my family. Aside from Daisy, he’s my best friend in the world, and he has been since the day I met him.
“I came to avoid death from sunstroke.”
“What?” He’s across the room in a few steps, his hand on my cheek, my forehead. “You don’t feel like you have heat stroke.”
“I got overheated after the proposal.”
When he’s this close, it’s impossible to ignore how beautiful he is. Apollo is a strikingly beautiful man. An unfairly beautiful man. He looks like royalty, with dark hair and blue eyes and a fine bone structure, but he also looks like he could be deadly. I know for a fact that he’s as good with a bow as I am, which is why it’s only fun to play dangerous archery games with him.
Apollo’s equally skilled with conversation and brokering agreements and negotiating, which is why he spends too many hours every week at his think tank, influencing policy. And, like my social event business, his outward work deflects attention from his real talent as a backchannel negotiator for the government and other groups who like some discretion dressed up as a gorgeous man.
“But…” I let out a breath. “You left the whole proposal scene before I did.”
His hand lingers on my cheek. It always takes him a few extra seconds to let go. That’s not because I’m in love with him.
I mean—that’s not because he’s in love with me. We are not in love with each other. We love each other, obviously, because we’re family, but we’re not in love. I don’t have a massive crush on him. I don’t feel sick if I spend too long away from him. I wouldn’t know anything about that.
“I was jealous,” he admits.
It’s not what I expected him to say. Apollo hasn’t ever talked to me about getting engaged or getting married, and why would he? It must be the sunstroke making my face so hot.
“I was, too.”
This is when he straightens up, puts his hands in his pockets, and saysone day, you’ll get your own proposal, Artemis. Whoever proposes to you will be so lucky.
He doesn’t do that.
Apollo moves his hand from my cheek to the wall behind me and leans in.
And I just…freeze.
I don’t want to move, because I don’t want him to remember that we’re friends, we’re family members, and if we’ve looked too long at each other, if we’ve stood close enough to touch on purpose, if I came looking for him—
His eyes move over my face. My lips.
I can’t breathe. My only choice is to say something, or else become a statue forever.
“Do you wish it was you?”
“Do I wishwhatwas me?” I’ve spent hours upon hours of my life talking to Apollo, and I’ve never heard his voice like this. Low and warm, soft like a secret arrow through my heart.
“Do you wish you were the one proposing?”
“Not to Daisy.”
“Did you have somebody on your mind?”
“No,” he breathes, and it’s a lie, it’s alie. I know he’s lying. I’ve known him for so long, and he’s lying.
