Page 90 of The Wondrous Life and Loves of Nella Carter
It was bad.
Visiting now wasn’t the best idea. He wanted to win their bet—prove that he had been right all those years ago—but not like this.
“Why are you here?” she said, not turning to face him, voice tired.
He had struggled with that very question himself.
He’d seen what she’d become in the two years since he’d taken Gabby.
Nihilistic and hedonistic. As bad as him. It’d been hard to watch, to see such a beautiful soul turn inward and empty. He’d thought victory would taste sweet, but it felt wrong, sitting heavily in his chest—harsh and bitter, more like guilt.
“The last time we met in that bar, I said we were friends, and I’ve come to learn that friends check on each other. I’ve never seen youlike this, not with any others. I wanted ... I wanted to know how you’re doing.”
She finally turned, the mascara caked to her lashes, two trails running down, and her mouth smeared red. She gestured helplessly at the stained sheets and creased nightgown—her skin wan, her hair tangled in knots. “How does it look like I’m doing?”
“Like you’ve given up.”
She shrugged, the tattered edge of her silk nightgown slipping over her thin shoulder. “What’s the point of anything else?”
She plucked an old cigarette from the ashtray and lit it, the bright end flaring in the darkness as she took a drag, emphasizing the hollows in her cheeks.
“I hate seeing you this way.”
“So stop taking everyone I love,” she said, blowing out a stream of smoke. “It’s an easy enough solution.”
“Nella, look at yourself. We’ve been through this.” He shook his head sadly. “I’ve told you. We all have our roles to play. Especially you.”
She turned on him then, eyes unfocused. “What is my role, then? Hmm? Exist only to keep you entertained? Live the rest of my life alone? You’re always popping up, taunting me, saying you want me to lose ... but I don’t think you do.”
Death scoffed. “Of course I do. I was right all those years ago, and I’m right now.”
She shook her head, eyes red. “I don’t think so.” She laughed, the sound husky and half strangled. “I think ... I think you love me.”
His breath hitched. A thousand refusals gathered in his throat, then vanished as he tried to speak. “I—”
She pointed a finger accusingly. “You do, don’t you? That’s why you keep taking everyone. You want me for yourself. Take me, then. Like you take everything else.”
She grabbed him, dragging him close, and smashed her lips on his.
He couldn’t describe how it felt. Right and wrong simultaneously. A tension in his chest uncoiled at her touch, craving the intensity. Allof it was there: the hate, the anger, the pain, the mixed feelings, all of it bubbling up in that kiss. For a moment, the emptiness ebbed away.
The phone rang, splitting the silence. She pulled away first, avoiding his eyes, rubbing her lips, and dragged the phone off the receiver.
“That’s fine,” she said into the phone. “See you in a bit.”
She hung up, and they sat there, tense.
“Nella, I—”
She laughed again, the sound strangled and a little bit mad. “Now I know I’ve lost it.”
“That wasn’t my intent when I started this.”
“Well, that’s where we are. And there’s no way out of it.”
“There is a way. But just one.” If she only said the word, she could take his hand and they could remake the whole world. A place where pain didn’t exist. Not for her. Not ever.
The possibility of it rolled through his mind, the idea making him heady.
