I wished I had that much faith that this would turn out okay. “How do you know?”
“Because all of us have been through hell together—nearly literally. This? Making her fall for you again? That’s going to be a cakewalk. I swear it.”
“You swear?” I needed to hear someone say it so that I could start to believe it.
Cosette stepped up to my other side, grabbing my hand. “I swear. That girl is your match. It doesn’t matter what my mother did to her. She’s there. You just have to dig her out.”
There was a knock on the door, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
“Let her in.” Cosette squeezed my hand and then released it.
I could do this.
I would do this.
The fey weren’t keeping my mate. Not for a second longer.
And once she was back, we were going to burn the Lunar Court to the ground.
Chapter Twenty-Three
TESSA
You gotta help us eat all this. I’m giving you exactly three minutes and then I’m coming to get you. Timer starts now. I’m not letting you chicken out.
I read Dastien’s text three times to make sure I wasn’t misunderstanding, but there was nothing to misunderstand. He’d been pretty clear.
How could he know I was about to chicken out?
I set a timer for two minutes—just long enough to gather some courage—and then sent a quick reply. Be right there.
I stood in front of my closet. So much of what was inside was picked by my mother. I really had to search to put together an outfit that felt more me, but it seemed like a waste to go shopping when I had all these nice things to wear. Other girls would kill for this stuff. Blouses in every color. Skirts. Dresses. Dress pants. But all I really needed were some T-shirts, yoga pants, and I’d give anything for a pair of stretchy skinny jeans, instead of jeans that were so constricting that I felt like I couldn’t fight in them.
I laughed at my own thought. Fight in them? Where did that come from? Who did I think I needed to fight?
The shoes were the worst part. Mother made me feel bad if I wore anything other than heels, but I’d already been wearing them for hours and my feet hurt. I was just going across the hall. It wasn’t like flip-flops were illegal, even if mother had a thing against them.
I kicked off my heels and grabbed the pair of flip-flops that I bought for less than a dollar at the drug store. Mother would be horrified that I owned them—let alone that I was wearing them out of the house—and for some reason, that made me smile as the foam slid under my aching arches.
I pulled off my blouse and traded it for a drapey black V-neck. The jeans would have to stay because my only alternative were dressy slacks, and that seemed way too formal for dinner at my neighbor’s apartment.
And yet—with just the change of shirt and shoes—I instantly felt more comfortable. A year ago, I never would’ve defied my mother like this, but something had changed in me recently.
This was my life. It was the only one I was going to get. It was past time I started living my life for me instead of doing things Mother or Georgine told me to do.
I closed the closet door and went to my mirror. What I saw didn’t make me feel more confident. My reflection always felt like a stranger. That was an unfortunate side effect of the accident. My doctor said it would wear off eventually, but I was still waiting for that to happen.
This was me. The blonde girl in the mirror was me. And at least I was comfortable, or more comfortable than I had been a few seconds ago.
My two-minute timer went off.
I couldn’t believe I was going over there, especially when he had friends over. Although I was leaning toward it being better that they were there. Having more people around took some pressure off of me to start a conversation. It would be less awkward. I hoped.
I shut off the timer.
This was it.
It was now or never.