Page 193

This is how men get deceived—by pretty eyes that look like they contain the entire universe.

"I thought I heard something in the corridor," she says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Like always, I notice every little detail about her. The spots of color that appear on her cheeks, the way her breasts stretch the material of her nightgown, the delicate column of her neck.

I want to rage. I want to demand an explanation. I want to hear more of her lies.

Instead of moving toward her like I always do, I close the door in her face and return to my bed.

"Did you see anything?" Alaric asks.

"Nothing important," I reply.

I close my eyes and sink into sleep.

For once, I don't dread any nightmares. It can't possibly get worse than real life.

41

EMMA

“Reader, I married him,” I read out loud.

The four words make me pause.

I’m still readingJane Eyreto my grandmother. We started the book before I even took up the nanny position. We’re at the end of the book now. It’s where the two characters have their happily ever after.

Something about this book holds a mirror up to my face. It shows me an alternative reality of what could have been. Of what should have been.

“A quiet wedding we had: he and I, the parson and clerk, were alone present. When we got back from church, I went into the kitchen of the manor-house, where Mary was cooking the dinner, and John cleaning the knives, and I said—‘Mary, I have been married to Mr. Rochester this morning.’”

I finish reading the final chapter and then close the book. I stare at the illustrated cover of the classic novel.

My grandmother reaches for my hand, breaking the spell I’m cast under.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.

I put the book away and reach for another one from the stack on the bedside table. It’s another classic, but thankfully, it doesn’t contain any romance.

“I’m not sure if I’m in the mood for Frankenstein, dear,” she says.

“How about Dostoevsky?” I ask, picking out another book.

“No depressing books,” she says. “And I don’t need you to read to me anymore, Emma. I want you to talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I say.

“Really? You’re lying to me now?” she asks, folding her arms over her chest.

I look at my grandmother. Something in me softens at the sight of her. She gained back the weight she had lost. There’s color in her cheeks and vitality in her eyes.

It’s been a few weeks since the Elysium incident.

I half expected that Klaus would change his mind and kick me out of his house, but that hasn’t happened yet. Vera dropped by to give my grandmother the antidote. Ever since then, there’s been a drastic improvement in my grandmother’s health.

Even though I didn’t ask for it, Klausarranged a room for my grandmother in the house.

I expected him to fight with me. I expected us to scream at each other until our throats turned hoarse. But there has only been radio silence between us.