Page 58 of Double Apex

“Yes,you thought,” she cuts in. “And I let you think it.” Covering her eyes with one pale hand, she adds, “He is not quite the monster you see him as. Your perspective is uninformed. Not everything is black and white, little brother. You don’t know the whole story. That mansavedme, and yes, it’s complicated. But I need you to stop pitying me because the real monster was our uncle. And you were the one who had to remain withhim.”

She stands and goes inside, the click of the shoes she wore for Grigore Lupu fading as she walks away.

17

AUSTRIA

LATE JUNE

PHAEDRA

I’m at a two-top table on the hotel patio—scrolling through track data on my iPad, about to slice into a nice salmon Benedict for breakfast—when brown suede high-heeled boots step into my peripheral vision.

Assuming someone is going to ask for my unused chair, I glance up and am stunned motionless by the sight of Natalia standing over me with a tentative smile.

She lifts a hand and waggles her fingers. “Um. Hi?”

I leap up so fast that I bash the table with my thigh and almost tip it over. Nat’s hand shoots out to stabilize it, and she laughs—a sound that strangles off into a cough as I tackle her in a crushing hug.

“Holyfuckingshit!” I squeal.

She hugs me back hard, and I haven’t been this happy intwo months, aside from when I temporarily stop thinking about the rift with Nat because Cosmin is naked.

We draw apart, and I hold her upper arms in the gorgeous burnt-orange dress she’s wearing. A pair of fancy sunglasses sits atop her sleek brown hair, and she looks like an ad for expensive shampoo. A small Louis Vuitton purse hangs off her elbow.

“Sorry for not replying to your last email for a couple weeks,” she says with a wince, pulling out the opposite chair and sitting. “My life kinda blew up the day you sent it, and I was a wreck. That’s no excuse—I know.”

I settle across from her. “Not to split hairs, but it’s beenthreeweeks since I sent it. And unless I missed something, youstillhaven’t replied.” I take a sip of iced coffee, cautiously studying her.

“Semantics,” she says with an airy laugh. I think she realizes it sounds dismissive, and tries again, her face going grave. “I actually tried writing back several times, and it just kept sounding all wrong, and I’d delete it, then get more anxious and emotional and ashamed of myself. I know I screwed up, Phae. I’m sorry, honestly.”

I wait, punishing her a little before allowing a wan smile. “We both screwed up. I was hitting below the belt with that stuff I said in Shanghai, so I’m sorry too.” I gnaw at my lower lip. “I’ve missed you a ton—not gonna lie.”

“Same!”

In the deep V of her neckline hangs a heart-shaped emerald pendant. I squint and lean forward to inspect it, then meet hereye. She touches it lightly as if just remembering she’s wearing it, then jerks her hand away, fiddling with the clasp of her purse.

“Hm, quite a rock you’re sporting there,” I note with a cheeky faux aloofness, going for humor. “With the earrings I’m surrendering to you, you’ll look like a Christmas tree.”

I take another long sip of my coffee, then stir it, giving Nat space in which I hope she’ll pick up the thread I’ve thrown out and start a conversation about Klaus—I suspect he bought her the necklace. I mean… an emerald? It’s pretty on the nose.

Instead, she deflects again, and I decide to let her.

“No no no, don’t give your grandmother’s jewelry to me, silly. I was teasing with that whole bet thing.” She leans forward with a conspiratory smirk. “Giving me the gossip about what the Randy Rookie is like in bed will be adequate payment.”

A waiter comes over and I order Nat’s favorite drink and pastry. “Could we get an oat-milk half-caf latte with a dusting of cinnamon,” I request, “and a scone with seedless raspberry jam?” I’m trying to show that I know her preferences because I’m a top-notch friend. I’m not sure why even our best impulses toward each other are a little on the competitive side, but it’s how we roll.

The guy doesn’t bother hiding an “Oh, you’re one of those customers” eye roll, then gives me a supercilious nod before breezing off.

“You’re sweet,” Nat tells me.

“No,you.” My eyes roam the severe angles of her upperbody in the clinging dress. “This isn’t a dig, but you look like you could use some breakfast—you’re thinner than you were in April.”

She twists the handles of her purse, not meeting my eyes. “I’ve been… struggling. And considering the subject matter during the spat you and I had, I didn’t need an ‘I told you so.’”

“Nat, I wouldn’t.”

She shoots a flat look my way that says,We both know you would, and routinelydo.

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