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“Mary, Mother of—”
“You’re in a church, David.”
“Oh, Chr—crapsticks.”
“Nice save.”
Rolling my eyes, I glance back over my shoulder for a final wave at Alice. She’s watching us go with a soft smile, but her hands are white-knuckling her paperback. Her words echo in my head while David holds the door open for me.
Can’t really escape that kind of reality.
Alice can’t escape the fact that her parents have passed away. I can’t escape from the truth that Nick and Dad are gone. So we’re both burying ourselves in a fantasy.
The only difference is that Alice’s fantasy involves a figment in Jace’s head and a whole lot of books.
Mine involves a person.
A person who, if his behavior this morning is any indication, may not be content to continue the charade.
I swallow nervously.
Despite being glad to see Alice, I’m leaving the library with a serious weight in my gut. And, as we get into David’s car, that unsettled feeling only grows bigger.
Somehow, for whatever strange, psychic reason, I can feel it. I can feel that my fantasy and my reality have started on one serious collision course.
