Page 23 of Henhouse
“I don’t either,” she said. “I’m sorry I mentioned the Louisa thing.”
“You’re right, though. It—” Effie bit her quivering lip. “I regret it every day.”
Hope took her hand and squeezed tight. She sucked in a deep breath before lifting her gaze again to meet Effie’s. “Veritas?”
“Veritas,” Effie affirmed, and she waited for the blow.
“He’s married.”
Effie’s heart sank. “No,” she breathed, not wanting it to be true.
“I stopped by his reno house to tell him about the baby and I met his wife instead.”
“Hope, I’m so sorry.” Effie peeled herself from her seat and strode to Hope’s. The armchairs were huge, so she easily nestled in beside her cousin. She wrapped an arm around Hope, who leaned into her shoulder.
Rain pattered against the window as the sky darkened outside. Effie felt a mimicking drip of tears on her shoulder. She leaned forward and picked the novel off the table.
“Where were you?” Effie asked.
“First page.” Hope sniffed.
Effie flipped open the massive book after popping a piece of gum in her mouth so she might better enjoy it. She cleared her throat loudly as though about to begin a truly dramatic reading, and Hope giggled beside her. “Valeria Winstrop had never met a man she didn’t like—fantasy novel, obviously,” Effie teased before continuing. Her voice soothed the anxious shivers that Hope had succumbed to in sharing the truth.
They sat like that until closing.
Effie read about royalty, magic, lust, and adventure, each wordstitching together Hope’s battered heart with something that felt a lot like her namesake.
Effie prayed that by the time Valeria Winstrop had tamed the dragon and claimed her birthright, Hope would be brave enough to love again. Because despite everything, despite the hate for Brayden that gnawed at the back of her mind, Effie wanted to believe in love, and she couldn’t help but feel like she needed Hope to do it.
14
A chill spring rain pattered the windows as Theo entered his apartment still donning his blue-collared shirt and work boots. He was ready to swap them for soft-washed Henleys and relaxed-fit jeans. Regardless of how much he liked his job, there were still weeks he counted down the hours until the weekend. This was one of them.
Theo slipped out of his boots and hung up his messenger bag that carried all manner of release forms, code documents, and his trusty clipboard. He padded across the laminate floors to his sofa and plopped down beside Schilling, who had apparently used his spare key to let himself in.
“You look like hell,” Theo remarked as he assessed Schilling from head to toe.
“I called out today,” he replied.
“Yeah, I know, so why are you on my couch?”
Schilling shrugged. He didn’t actually look sick. Probably just needed a day. Theo had given him the key because his friend frequentlyneeded a change of scenery. Somewhere to sit quietly and not be bothered. Theo had once thought himself brooding and dramatic. He had nothing on Schilling’s lows. The goof in daylight could turn into a real downer after dark. Especially lately.
“Sorry, I can go.” Schilling moved to get up.
“Don’t be stupid.”
Schilling sighed, leaning back. Theo spotted the burnt-down candle sitting on his coffee table. Poured into a glass jar, its edges were stained with soot and only a trace of the wax remained at the bottom.
“It’s my mom’s. I’m going to meet Eggplant in a bit,” Schilling explained, but his words sounded heavy, and Theo wondered what the hell had happened now to have his notoriously jovial best friend acting like Eeyore. His somber tone was made unintentionally funny by using Effie’s vegetable alias. For some reason, it pleased Theo that Schilling didn’t know her real name. Like it was his secret or some nonsense.
“Why don’t you reschedule? I’m sure she’d prefer it to hanging out with a rain cloud.”
“You’re so nice,” Schilling drawled. He grumbled and rubbed his hands over his face, letting out an agitated growl. “I’m sick of me too, by the way. It feels much better not being a rain cloud.”
“Do you want me to go with you? I can cancel on Talia.”
“What are you two doing?”
