“You always have been.”
“What if I’m not good at being my own person?” Rebecca had been different these last few months. She looked different, dressed different, went after what she wanted. She’d let Thea back in. “What if this whole thing is just the universe telling me that I don’t get to move on? Ever.”
Rebecca’s chin trembled. “Maybe I’m a horrible person for wanting to.”
I’d known that seeing Eve would hurt her. I’d known that it would dredge up the past, the same way it had for Jameson—for Grayson. But this was Rebecca, cut to the bone.
“You are not a horrible person,” I said, but I wasn’t sure that I could make her believe that. “Have you told Thea about Eve?” I asked.
Rebecca stood and dug the toe of her beat-up combat boot into the ground. “Why would I?”
“Bex.”
“Don’t look at me like that, Avery.”
She was hurting. This wasn’t going to stop hurting any time soon. “What can I do?” I asked.
“Nothing,” Rebecca said, and I could hear her breaking. “Because now I have to go and figure out how to tell my mother that she has a grandchild who looks exactly like the daughter she would have chosen to keep, if the universe had given her a choice between Emily and me.”
Rebecca was here. She was alive. She was a good daughter. But her mother could still look right at her and sobbingly say that all her babies died.
“Do you want me to go with you to tell your mom?” I asked.
Rebecca shook her head, the choppy ends of her hair catching in a draft.
“I’m better at wanting things now than I used to be, Avery.” She straightened, an invisible line of steel running down her spine. “But I don’t get to want you with me for this.”
CHAPTER 18
I stayed in the tunnels after Rebecca was gone, debating, then wound my way back toward Hawthorne House and exited up a hidden staircase into the Great Room. Once I had cell phone reception again, I pulled the trigger and made the call.
“To what do I owe this rather dubious honor?” Thea Calligaris had perfected the art of the verbal smirk.
“Hello to you, too, Thea.”
“Let me guess,” she said pertly. “You’re in desperate need of fashion assistance? Or maybe one of the Hawthornes is having a meltdown?” I didn’t reply, and she amended her guess. “More than one?”
A year ago, I never would have imagined the two of us as anything even remotely resembling friends, but we’d grown on each other—more or less.
“I need to tell you something.”
“Well,” Thea replied coyly, “I don’t have all day. In case you missed the memo, my time is very valuable.” Over the summer, Thea had gone viral.
Somewhere between Saint Bart’s and the Maldives, she’d become an Influencer with a capital I. Then she’d come back, to Rebecca.
No matter how long it takes, Thea had told me once. I’m going to keep choosing her.
I told her everything.
“When you say this girl looks exactly like—”
“I mean exactly,” I reiterated.
“And Rebecca—”
Rebecca was going to kill me for this. “They just met. Eve wants to meet Bex’s mom.”
For a full three seconds, Thea was uncharacteristically silent. “This is messed up, even by Hawthorne and Hawthorne-adjacent standards.”