Die Once More by Amy Plum Page A

but she holds a hand up to stop me.
    â€œI never knew,” she says. “I saw how you were with other girls, and I thought I was the same. A harmless flirtation. A bit of fun. I thought you did the things you did and said the things you said just to make me feel good—to get a reaction—not because you meant them.”
    â€œThat’s how it started,” I say honestly. She’s watching me with sad eyes, and I have to look away. I swing my gaze to the ceiling, run my fingers through my hair, and take a deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. “Then things changed.”
    â€œI wouldn’t have been as friendly if I had known,” she says.
    â€œThen I’m glad you didn’t know.”
    â€œI wouldn’t have allowed Vincent to possess you . . . to use you to kiss me. I wouldn’t have let it go that far.” There are tears in her eyes.
    I don’t know what to say. I wish to God that hadn’t happened either, because seeing her expression when she realized it wasn’t Vincent she was kissing was like a knife to the chest. On the other hand, it was my one and only chance to have her, so I wouldn’t have traded it for the world, even with all that pain.
    â€œCome here,” I say, and she scoots across the rug toward me until she can lean into my open arms. I hold her while she cries and feel something inside me snap into place. A piece of me that began shifting when I walked through the front door and realized this is where I belong. I am finally accepting it. This is the only way it will ever be between me and Kate. And it hurts like hell, but there’s nothing to do about it except to pick myself upand move on.
    â€œI’m the one who should apologize,” I tell her. “I wasn’t honest. But really, how could I be?” We lean back, and she wipes her eyes and nods.
    â€œI know,” she says. “I’ve thought about it. You couldn’t tell me without betraying Vincent. You couldn’t tell Vincent because . . . what would be the point? I understand why you left. It was really the only sane, healthy thing you could do. But you need to know how much I miss you. That you are one of my favorite people, my closest friends. I wish you could come back, but also realize it’s totally selfish of me. So I just want to know that you are fine. That you are happy where you are.”
    â€œI’m fine and I’m happy,” I lie.
    Kate searches my eyes. “No, you’re not.”
    â€œI will be,” I say. “Promise. More time, and I’ll be fine.”
    She takes a deep breath and hugs her legs to her chest. Like old Kate. A moment passes before she speaks again. “It was good of you to come to the wedding.”
    â€œI didn’t want to,” I admit.
    â€œI know,” she says, and smiles sadly. “So who are these New York kindred Theodore sent with you?”
    â€œWell, Faust is a newbie, and one of the nicest guys I ever met,” I respond. “And Ava scares the crap out of me and, for some reason that completely eludes me, hates my guts. But Gold wanted me to accompany her here so she could quiz Gaspard and Bran, and I’m sure you and Vincent as well, about what to do about the numa in New York.”
    â€œIs she Gold’s second?” Kate asks curiously.
    â€œThey don’t have firsts and seconds there. Or at least, not on paper, although it’s pretty clear to me that Gold’s in charge. She’s his special envoy, in any case.”
    Kate looks thoughtful. “Why does she hate you? Did you hit on her?”
    â€œAbsolute negative on that. It was apparently loathing at first sight,” I say.
    Kate grabs my hands, and we lean back, using each other’s weight to stand up, both cracking a smile at the effort it takes to get off the ground.
    â€œDinner?” she asks.
    â€œA meal in the presence of France’s brave Champion?” I say.