Page 89

“We’ll get you a new one! It’s not a big deal, babe.”

“I have so many emails,” Luna said, already going through a mental list.

“You’re getting married! Everyone will understand if you drop out of touch for a few weeks. Relax.” He stroked her arm. It was meant to be soothing, but all she could think of was the heat of the mud, thick and suffocating and still somehow not warming her up where it really counted.

She whirled on him, ripping his arm off her shoulders. “I’ve BEEN relaxing! I’ve been relaxing all my LIFE! I want to actually DO something for a change! Not sit here in some useless mud, planning our next vacation! Our wholelifeis a vacation, one big party—it’s NOTHING!”

She stopped. The spa was silent. The mud bubbled quietly between them.

Luna’s cheeks burned. She hadn’t yelled at her familysince she was a teenager. If she ever got mad, she swallowed it and turned her mind to better things.

“Uhhh,” Hector said. He laughed nervously. “Wow. I really can’t wait for you to go back to normal, babe.”

“Hear, hear,” Dad repeated, raising his glass a second time.

Mom made a noise into her glass. “I don’t know if I’m a fan of these drinks. Could we get that girl back in here?”

Luna stared in disbelief as they lapsed back into their normal inane chatter. Of course, this wouldn’t put a dent in their conversation. They were Stacks; they weren’t about to let one outburst ruin their fun.

Hector sat back against the tiles, arm out in offering. He looked up at her, and his carefree smile wavered. His eyebrows raised in a silent plea. He wanted her to sit down. To let the moment of frustration pass. To come and laugh with them again. No worries, no consequences.

Luna climbed out of the mud. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“What? Come on, babe. Babe!”

Her family’s voices joined in as she strode toward the towel rack. She kept walking. She’d shower, get dressed, and go find somewhere that would sell her a phone.

Twenty-Seven

Grandmother leaned on the front desk and sighed. “You look worse than me.”

Oliver scowled. He was bent over Beth’s half-finished chocolate display, which was proving harder to put together than he anticipated. It was just a display, so why did it have so many slots and tabs?

“I look fine,” he snapped.

“Your eye bags say otherwise,” Grandmother replied. She reached out as if to touch his admittedly sweaty cheek. He’d been having trouble sleeping, wracked with strange tremors and fluctuating body temperatures he was doing his best to ignore. It was the annoying aftermath of bond breaking and would go away eventually.

He ducked out of range with a growl. Both of them paused while Grandmother’s eyebrows rose.

He averted his gaze back to the infuriating display. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” she said.

He looked her over quickly. She was paler than usual, but that had become pretty common in the past few months. No less than three shawls were draped around her shoulders despite running the inn’s heating at full blast.

“Today’s a good day,” she said, pulling the shawls tighter around her. She gave him a reassuring smile. “Are you excited for the fair yet? You promised Leo you would be. It’s tomorrow; time’s running out.”

“He’ll survive,” Oliver said icily.

She gave him a knowing look. The fair marked the day before Luna’s wedding. He couldn’t pretend to be excited about a fair while Luna was about to marry some rich, useless jerk who had never held a hammer in his life.

Oliver went back to the display, trying yet again to slide the correct tab into the correct slot without bending anything. Why was it sofragile? This thing didn’t look like it could hold up a piece of paper, much less plastic bags full of chocolates.

“Oliver,” Grandmother said.

He winced. The conversational tone was gone. Whatever was coming, he wasn’t going to like it.

“I don’t want you retreating back into yourself,” she said. “You were getting better these past months. Back to your old self.”