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I try to shrug it off. “She just made an impression is all.”

“Your father tried to say same thing about your mother,” she points out. “You should ask him.”

“Yeah, yeah, their great love story. This is nothing like that.”

“Hm,” she regards me. “I remember he said same thing. Go home. Is late and I need to close up.”

With a wrinkled hand, she reaches over and grasps mine firmly before sliding out of the booth, and shooing me away. I don’t try to ask her anything else even though I feel like I’ve been filled with questions. Once Imelda tells you it’s time to go, it’s time to go.

I’m hopeful that Josie is still outside, but she isn’t. The sky lightly drizzles rain on and off, and the humidity is becoming unbearable. It feels like I’m drowning, except it’s drawn out. I reach my building, but it doesn’t feel right. Nothing does. I can only think of Josie, and it’s fucking irritating.

I check the position of the moon. It’s not too late. My father should still be awake. He’s always able to see problems in a new light. Maybe he can help me make sense of this. I turn and head for the palace instead, striding past the guards of the gate, up the path, and into the grand foyer. His office is up several sets of ornate marble steps, and around a few twists and turns. The place is practically my mother’s haven. Instead of dark colors that remind you of death, there are hues of pink mixed with earth tones.

Plants hang from the ceiling and vines climb across the wall, curling around statues of monsters and historical figures. Most of the paintings that have been hung are of the different landscapes in the Underworld. Purple moon flowers that are speckled with white are blooming in the windows, greeting me as I pass them by.

The ornate wooden door to his office comes into view, and I pause, racking my brain for a way to formulate my question. It opens while I stand there, and Hades, the protector of the Underworld, my father, notices me immediately.

His eyebrows rise. “Aedonaeus?”

“Hello,” I awkwardly greet him.

My father is a slim man, and not nearly as tall as I am. He and my mother are both on the shorter side with paler skin and sharper features. He has light blonde hair and magenta eyes. It’s a trait of the gods. He hates that fact about himself. He always told me that he isn’t a god, just a man born of insane narcissists.

He holds the thick wooden door open. “Come in, son.”

Inside, I start to anxiously scan the books on the walls, trying to remember a synopsis of each one. It turns out, I’m saying it out loud.

“Sit.” Hades gestures to an upholstered seat in front of his desk. Once I’m settled, he leans against it with an inquisitive look. He’s still in his suit from the day. His tie has been yanked restlessly, hanging from his neck.

“I saw Imelda tonight,” I say, unsure of anything else.

“Ah, yes. Quite the woman. Is that why you’re here?” There isn’t judgment in his voice, but there is the suggestion that I have somehow taken up with the old woman.

“Gross. She said something interesting.”

Hades shifts uncomfortably, and for just a moment, I see some sort of fear in his eyes. It’s a man whose disguise has been torn from his face, but he composes himself immediately. “Well?”

“There’s a girl. I’ve met her before, and I met her again tonight.”

“Alright.” He readjusts on the desk. “It’s not abnormal to…repeat.”

“It’s not like that.” My tone is severe.

He scratches his short beard. “I see. Do you like this girl?”

“How would I know?”

“Know what, exactly? Speak plainly,” he says, inspecting my face.

“I feel confused.” I don’t tell him about how I met her years ago and that she is all I’ve thought about since. How she works my mind, and I’m drawn to her.

He crosses his arms and uses his thumb and forefinger to stroke his chin in thought. “You’re infatuated?”

“She’s distracting.”

“That depends,” Hades says decidedly. “When I met Persephone, I knew there was no one like her. She encompassed me. I became obsessed and possessive. I went to whatever lengths I needed to because she was it for me. Most don’t get that opportunity.”

“People fall in love every day.” I roll my eyes. “It’s a ridiculous notion full of self-fulfilling prophecies.”