She had a point,you know," Edward commented a few hours later. "Unnecessarily crude, perhaps, but apt. Our public personas frequently do not match our private ones. You, of all people, should know that."
"This isn't about me," I said grumpily. "This is about needing to find more information about the private you.Something I don't already know."
"I have terribly ugly feet."
"Not what I had in mind.And probably untrue anyway."
Edward glanced down at the empty space below his rib cage. "Probably. So, what did you have in mind?"
"A letter,maybe.From Diana.Something that connected your love to your work."
"I rather thought I did that through my paintings."
"You did.I mean, that's what attracted me to you in the first place.Well, o, that was your smile, probably,but the paintings helped. It's just that I need to know more about your muse."
"Ah, darling Ella, the artist's muse is Ego.Nothing more."
"You don't mean that.You married Diana because she made you feel like no one else in the universe ever did or could."
He nodded. "She was extraordinary."
"But not everyone saw that.Your family went nuts.Half of your friends stopped inviting you over, at least for a while."
"Their loss. She was a woman who comes along once in a lifetime.
What is it you want, Ella?"
"What you had," I answered softly, "with Diana. That once-in-a-lifetime connection that makes everything good."
"Fine.But you do realize that in orde to be loved like that, you have to let the lucky gentleman see you.I mean truly see you, scars and all."
"Yes,Edward, I am fully aware of that."
"But you don't want anyone to really look at you."
He had me there. "Well,no."
"Good luck with that,then," he said, then yawned and cosed his eyes, telling me the conversation was over.
You'd think that philisophy might have put the kibosh on some of the Freddy Krueger stuff," I mused, tilting my jaw until I felt the pull of the scar.
"And well it might, if you ever let on that it hurt."
I'm inclined to agree with that, too, but there's a limit. "So I should start going strapless."
"DOn't be snotty.
Shall we go to Paris next spring? You will certainly be well by then. I agree that Dr. Tapper is far more intelligent and sensible than many of his profession. If he tells you that you are not to be slogging through the Wissahickon in this weather, you must deisit with your daily slog. Your lungs are fragile, my love. I would not have you expiring for a sight of interesting lichen. Love is one of two things worth dying for.I have yet to decide on the second.It is most certainly not colorful fungus.
I shall be home as soon as this business is settled, certainly no more than a week.My mother complains that you will not have her to dinner. Good for you. Take pity on Hamilton's new wife and have her to tea.Fire the cook, please.I cannot face another dish of sweetbreads.
With all my love always,
Edward
So,if it's all love or money, which is Alex Bainbridge?"
I blinked at him. "What?"
"He's a turd, Ella. He looked right through you like you were a ghost, but you still have a thing for him."
"I do n-"
"Don't even. You've gone through the whole week watching for him. So what is it? I would really like to know. Love or money?"
"I have not been watching for him!" I snapped. Oh, but I had, in every hallway, at lunch, when I took my seat at the edge of English class. "And if I have, it's just so I can look away first."
Frankie rolled his eyes. "Shall I get you a pail of water?"
"Why?"
"Your pants are on fire."
I actually looked down at my lap. "Oh, very funny." I shot Sadie a look when she giggled.
Listen, Liar Liar, you promised. Enough with Alex Bainbridge."
Home truths are not meant to be comfortable, I know.Frankie knows it, too, and for a teeny tiny second, I hated him just a teeny tiny bit for knowing just where to stick the pin.
I glared at him. "How did this go from being about Sadie to an assault on my honesty? Huh?"
He shrugged. "I love you, Fiorella. We ain't got no money, honey, but we got love."
I've never been able to hate Frankie for more than a second at a time.
I watched the silent battle in awe. Daniel waited patiently, giving Chloe a half smile that was less a friendly expression than a display of his incisors, which are slightly longer than the teeth on either side. It makes him look even more feline than he already does.
"Oh, go ahead.Card hime," Frankie said wearily. "He doesn't mind."
"No,no.That's okay.I'll be right back..." And she was gone.
Daniel bared more teeth. "Nice, bro."
"What? You're disgustingly proud of that ID."
Daniel laughed. "I am," he agreed. "I totally am.
Frankie looks like he might break your heart a little. Daniel looks like he might rip it from your chest, still beating, and bite it.
Melissa JensenHe shoved up his sleeves, displaying several thin leather bracelets and the red-and-black tip of a dragon tail just above his right elbow. I've never actually seen the head. It's on Daniel's back, Frankie told us once, between his shoulder blades. "So,my children, what is up?"
"We're trying to figure out how to get a soul-sucking, male lower life-form out of Ella's head," Frankie explained.
"Kill him," Daniel said casually. "Unless there's a symbiotic thing going on and Ella would have to die, too. That would be a shame."
Here's the thing about Daniel. He has always scared me a little. I don't bother going through the scar-hiding motions; I'm convined he can see right through clothing. Not that he leers. He's not a leerer. He has two facial expressions: cold and amused. He also has a second tattoo, on the inside of his left wrist, that looks exactly like how I would expect a gang mark to look. Frankie has never said a word about that tat. Or much about his brother's friends.Who have names like Ax and spend time in police custody.
Nice gate,Ella."
I looked back at Daniel. He waved torward my lap.
"Oh." I draw on my eans when I don't have paper.My bus had gotten stuck behind a trash truck, right in front of a seriously old churchyard. "Thanks." I wasn't sure how I felt about Daniel staring at my thigh, even if he had recognized the sketch for what it was.
"Here." Suddenly, he had a booted foot on the rung of my chair, legs spread, one pressed against mine. "Draw something."
"Oh,please," Frankie muttered from his other side.
I shook my head. "I don't have a pen."
Sadie promptly disappeared beneath the table.I could hear the clank of Marc acobs chain handles and had a feeling in a second she would be asking, "Blue ink or black?"
"Don't you dare,Sadie," Frankie said cheerfully. "Ella does not want to be inscribing my brother's crotch."
True, I didn't. Except I had the clearest vision of how a little Italian portal devil would look on the faded denim...
"Fair enough," Daniel said, sliding his foot off my chair. But he actually looked disappointed. For a second, anyway. "I assume there's food coming?"
"There is," Frankie answered. "I'm sure it will come a hell of a lot faster if you do your vampire boy thing on Chloe again."
"Tsk,tsk. Jealousy, Miss Thing."
They bared their teeth at each other. It was scarily pretty.
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