Page 124 of The Towering Sky
Watt could hardly think. Trust Nadia to find a way to do one last good deed on his behalf: to give herself up, in order to get him into MIT. Her grand finale, her swan song, her last good-bye.
Thank you, he thought fervently.I promise that I’ll make you proud.
Nadia didn’t answer.
Leda was watching him, a million questions in her eyes, and there were so many things that Watt was aching to tell her. But he couldn’t, not quite yet. He’d made a promise, and Watt intended to keep it.
“Was that MIT?” she asked, having clearly followed the gist of his conversation.
“Yeah. They want me to come interview again,” he said slowly.
“Watt! I’m so happy for you.” Leda paused, as if she had something else to tell him. She seemed oddly nervous. “Before anything else happens—I need to say something.”
Watt held his breath.
“I love you,” she told him.
All other sound seemed to stop, and it was just the two of them here, and Watt’s heart clenched in his chest beccause it was better than anything he could have hoped for. “I love you too,” he answered, though surely she already knew.
Leda threw herself into his arms, and Watt held her like that for a moment, content to let the gossamer threads of their love fold them back from the world. He didn’t even feel the need to kiss her. Standing like this—with her heartbeat echoing through his rib cage, breathing in the scent of her hair—felt more intimate, somehow.
Then Leda lifted her eyes to him, and he saw that she was smiling, and Watt broke out into an answering grin. “I knew it,” he couldn’t help saying. “Iknewyou would fall in love with me again.”
Leda shook her head, still smiling that sidelong smile. “Watt. What makes you think I ever stopped?”
He kissed her for that one.
When they pulled away, they both glanced back up at the Tower. “Are you ready to go back?” Leda asked.
“No,” Watt said honestly.
“Me neither. But if we wait until we’re ready, we’ll be waiting forever.”
Watt knew she was right. He cast one last glance to where Nadia had disappeared into the water, then started back toward the monorail station with Leda, hand in hand, as the sun broke through the clouds above them. The snow had stopped, but it left a light dusting over the sidewalks, so that Watt had the bright clear sensation of walking on snow that no one else had touched. It felt like time was beginning over again.
He would get a bracing cup of coffee, and a peanut butter sandwich, and then Watt would face the world—clean and unfiltered, exactly the way it was meant to be seen.
ATLAS
WALKING DOWN NEUHAUSStreet on the 892nd floor, one might have thought it was an ordinary upTower afternoon. Tourists lingered in front of various boutiques, debating whether to purchase a jeweled bangle or electric jacket. Well-dressed couples strolled to lunch, clutching their morning espressos in thin recycled cups. The holographic sky projected onto the ceilings overhead was a deep slate gray, in accordance with the sobriety of the occasion. The watery light illuminated the white stones of St. Monica’s Basilica, casting the structure in a chalky calcium pallor.
Atlas turned the corner and was instantly assaulted by a wall of noise. A crowd thronged around the church ten rows deep. They wailed ostentatiously, holding up signs that saidWE MISS YOU, AVERY!
He shook his head in disgust and hurried away from it all, down a side street that edged along the church, and through anunmarked door that led directly into the back of the nave. He remembered it from his own confirmation five years ago.
The basilica was so crowded that every last spot was occupied, though Atlas didn’t mind. He hadn’t exactly planned on advertising his presence, had no desire to stroll up to the Fullers and give them a hug. He wasn’t sure whether they even knew that he’d escaped his minders—those ridiculous security thugs who’d stripped away his technology, forced him into an unmarked plane, and tried to make him disappear. Except Atlas was the one who’d ended up disappearing on them.
If they had given it any thought, the Fullers might have realized that he would be here today. Like hell would he miss Avery’s funeral. He wasn’t about to lose his chance to say good-bye to the love of his life.
He stayed in the back of the church, silent and unobtrusive, one eye alert in case any of his parents’ security guards were watching for him. It was easier this way. Not having to say hello to anyone, accept any condolences, deal with any of their lingering disgust over the fact that he had loved Avery. Just himself and his memories, and the howling monster of his grief.
Still, Atlas had to hand it to the Fullers. They sure could throw a funeral, with just as much fanfare and expense as they always threw a party.
It might as well have been opening night at the opera. White roses and carnations cascaded through the church, making a beautiful white carpet down the aisle, all the way to the altar. Hundreds of candles floated overhead. An angelic-looking boys’ choir sang behind the enormous carved organ.
None of it felt like Avery. She had been beautiful, Atlas thought fervently, but she wasn’t fragile or delicate. She was strong.
The pews were crowded with mourners in couture blackdresses or tailored suits. They dripped with diamonds, dabbed at their eyes with monogrammed silk handkerchiefs. New York society had turned out in full force: Atlas saw the entire staff of Fuller Investments, and wasn’t that the governor of New York, with a bodyguard flanking him on either side? The fashion world was here too, a whole block of pews taken up by designers and boutique owners and bloggers, all the people who’d been such fanatic followers of Avery’s style. Which really was a laugh, given that her outfit choices were usually halfhearted and last minute.
