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“You know. You just don’t want to admit it. Maybe the ritual doesn’t have to be this big defining thing anymore.” She shrugs. “Frankly, it was incredibly uncomfortable for Yvette, and the only thing I could do to make it better was get your father to not force Yvette to wear the white dress that prior to her, all women had to wear. Can you really not understand the change you’re in a position to spearhead? Can you not thinkrationallyfor one second?”

I groan and set my mug down. “For fuck’s sake. You expect me to be the one to tear the walls down? You know, maybe the ritual is important to me, and it’s not just about the family. You ever think about that?”

“Fine. Let’s say it is. Is it really so important that Ethan has to feel like he’ll never truly be yours unless he does it?”

I stare at her. My chest and stomach hurt more than ever. My eyes sting, and I look away from her.

“No. It’s not. It’s all I’ve ever known, but it has nothing to do with him being mine, or him being important. Whether the rest of this family gives a shit about him means nothin’ to me. I…I need him.”

Tessa pats me on the arm just as Yvette walks into the kitchen, looking tired and irritated.

“Tell him that,” she says, her eyes soft and caring, so different from the cold, manipulative mother she comes from.

“Can I have my wife back now?” Yvette grumbles as she steps over and wraps an arm around Contessa.

“Future wife,” I correct her.

Tessa giggles and kisses Yvette on the cheek. “Future wife,” she whispers.

I look at the clock. “Alright. I’ll leave you two alone.” It’s long past midnight.

I down my coffee, slightly scalding my throat, and then leave the lovebirds in their sickeningly sweet nest.

Tell him that.

I should tell Ethan.

I should show up at his apartment at two in the morning and spill my guts. Instead, I’m just parked in his parking lot, looking up at the side windows of his living room. The lights are all off. He’s probably asleep.

Fuck him for being able to sleep right now.

No. I hope he’s asleep.

I want to yell at him and cry in his arms. I want to blame him for the whole thing, but the truth is, I blame myself.

I continue blaming myself for several more days and nights. I have no fucking clue how I focus on exams, but I do.

Each night after class, I follow Ethan from a distance. I watch him go from his final class to his apartment and not leave again. I watch the flicker of his TV in the living room until it turns off sometime after eleven every single night. I think about texting him. I think about going up there.

In the middle of my father and my family trying to make peace with the Greivans, the way Ethan feels in my arms is all I can think about. I run errands, I check in with our allies, and I prepare with Yvette for the worst-case scenario, but every single night, this is where I am.

Staring at his window and watching the snow start to pile up on the windowsill.

I nearly jump at the knock at my passenger side window.

“Motherfucker.” I look over, only to see the last face I want to see.

Nevertheless, I unlock the door and Marco gets in.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask him.

“I could ask you the same thing. Is this where you’ve been for the past week? Seriously, you need to get a life.” He rubs his hands together and turns the heat up. “How much fucking gas are you wasting just sittin’ here?”

“Don’t worry about it,” I mumble, and look back out of the windshield. “What do you want?”

“I came to update you because you aren’t answering your phone,” he says. “But now I think I should be telling you to stop stalking your ex-boyfriend.”

“I’ll do what I want. What’s the update?” I ask.