Page 63 of Saint Céline
“No.”
“Céline.”
“I literally said no.”
Sophia stared at me with growing disbelief, her elegant fingers still wrapped around her mug. “You hate him, just admit it. You have no chemistry.”
“No, I don’t! Thad is a nice guy; he’s a little boring, but he treats me well.”
Anya made a strangled noise somewhere between a laugh and a gasp. “Oh my God, she’s in psychological danger.”
I buried my face against Miss Astoria’s soft fur while the cat purred louder, completely unbothered by the chaos unfolding around her. Heat rose sharply into my face, which was catastrophic because now both of them were watching me with open fascination. The apartment felt warmer than it had in weeks. The rain kept falling outside, steady and quiet, and for the first time since Katherine died, I let myself breathe a little easier in the middle of it all. Life without her still hurt in ways I could not name, but it no longer felt empty. There was a ridiculous white cat demanding breakfast, two best friends who saw too much, and the slow, tentative shape of something that might one day feel like ordinary mornings again.
Sophia set her coffee down carefully, her expression shifting into that gentle but relentless mother-hen mode.
“Céline, darling, you’ve been avoiding Thad for days. You barely answered his texts this morning. And when Anyamentioned the lab yesterday, you looked like someone had walked over your grave. So forgive me, but when you say the boyfriend situation is normal, I have to ask… is this really about Thad? Or is it about Professor Moreau?”
The name landed like a stone dropped into still water. I felt the ripple move through me before I could stop it. Miss Astoria shifted on my shoulder, sensing the sudden tension in my body, and I reached up automatically to steady her.
“Nothing is happening,” I said, the words coming out too fast.
Anya leaned forward, elbows on the counter, her voice low and theatrical. “You reacted like a woman being investigated federally.”
Heat flooded my cheeks. “You are actually insane.”
Sophia didn’t smile. She just watched me with that quiet, perceptive calm that always made me feel seen in ways I didn’t want to be. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m worried. You’ve been different since the lab started. Tense. Distracted. And the way you looked when his name came up just now…” She let the sentence trail off, giving me space I didn’t want. “You hate him. That much is obvious. But the way you hate him feels… complicated.”
I stared down at the cat, her white fur blurring under my fingers. “It’s not complicated. He’s arrogant. He forced me into the lab after I tried to withdraw. He enjoys watching me unravel. That’s it.”
Anya raised an eyebrow. “And yet you’re blushing like you just got caught stealing from the cookie jar.”
“I am not blushing.”
“You are,” Sophia said gently.
Miss Astoria purred louder, pressing her face against my neck as if trying to remind me she was still there. The simple warmth of her grounded me enough to breathe again.I scratched behind her ears and tried to keep my voice even. “Nothing is happening. He’s my professor. That’s all.”
Sophia didn’t look convinced. She never did when she sensed I was holding something back. “Just promise me you’ll be careful. Grief makes everything feel bigger than it is. And men like him know exactly how to use that. He’s very charming, but you never know what’s underneath.”
I nodded because it was easier than arguing, but the words settled uneasily inside me. I shove the phone into my pocket without answering Thad.
Miss Astoria yawned against my neck, completely content, and for the first time in weeks, the apartment felt like it might actually hold something close to normal again. The rain kept falling outside, steady and quiet, and I let myself hold onto that feeling a little longer, even while Sophia and Anya exchanged another worried glance across the counter. Life without Katherine still hurt in ways I could not name, but it no longer felt empty.
* * *
Anya followed me into my bedroom ten minutes later, carrying a fresh mug of coffee and wearing the expression of a woman who had just discovered state secrets. She closed the door behind her with a soft click, then dropped into the desk chair backwards, arms folded over the backrest like she was settling in for a long interrogation. Miss Astoria immediately reclaimed my lap the second I sat on the edge of the bed, curling into a tight white ball as if she had already decided this room belonged to her now.
“I’m still not talking about it,” I said before Anya could even open her mouth.
“You looked like Sophia had just accused you of tax fraud,” Anya replied, her pale eyes sharp with that detached amusementshe used when she found something fascinating but beneath her. “And yet you are not denying it correctly.”
“I am denying it.”
“No.” She pointed one finger at me with complete confidence. “You are panicking.”
I rubbed a hand over my face. The rain outside had softened again, turning the dorm windows pale with misty grey light that made the whole room feel smaller and safer than it had any right to be. Miss Astoria purred steadily beneath my fingers, her small body warm and heavy, entirely unconcerned with the destruction of my dignity. I focused on the feeling of her fur instead of the way my pulse had kicked up the moment Sophia said his name.
Anya narrowed her eyes. “Oh my God.”
