Page 35 of Saint Céline
* * *
After we hung up, I dressed carefully in brown trousers and a white blouse, pinning my hair back and adding concealer under my eyes and a touch of colour on my lips so no one would ask if I was sick.
I fastened Thad’s bracelet around my wrist, stared at it for three seconds, then took it off and dropped it into my drawer because Vincent’s voice still echoed in my head, saying it did not suit me. I put on a Cartier instead.
When I stepped back into the living room, Sophia noticed immediately. Her gaze flicked to my wrist, but she said nothing.
“Finally. I hated that bracelet.” Anya declared.
“Anya,” Sophia said.
“What? Thad has no taste.”
Despite myself, I almost smiled.
“I have class,” I said.
Sophia stood. “I’ll walk with you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
Sophia leaves to grab her bag.
* * *
Outside, Bellamont University smelled like rain and old stone. Students crossed the quad with coffee cups and notebooks, their ordinary lives moving around the wound Katherine had left behind. The memorial under the archway had grown overnight with more flowers and more notes and a stuffed white bear someone had probably bought from the campus store.
Sophia slowed when we passed it.
I did not. If I looked, I would have to decide what face to make.
At Westgrave Hall, Sophia stopped at the entrance.
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
Her expression tightened.
I reached out and squeezed her hand once.
“But I’m going anyway.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
She looked like she wanted to say something else. Instead, she leaned in and kissed my cheek.
“Call me if you need anything.”
“I will.”
“You won’t.”
“No,” I admitted. “Probably not.”
