Natalie's Legacy [sequel to Natalie's Diary]

[21] Denial

[21] DENIAL

Jane

The whole world was a jumble of infinite variables and possible futures, but in all of them, Rhys loved me. Words I wanted to hear, but not when they sounded too close to a good-bye.

His hands shook as he guided me toward the ballroom and I wouldn't admit how much I needed him as a pillar. My knees still threatened to buckle, my steadiness wavering under the weight of Rhys' expectations.

I couldn't look at him, and instead, my attention fell on the circle of rope tied to a belt loop. What I wanted was to beg him to stop this, stop reminding himself of the things that could destroy him. The closer he kept him, the less likely he was to ever overcoming them. He had to be able to. Natalie's fate would not be Rhys'.

It couldn't be.

"She's by the ice sculpture," Rhys said, pointing out the art piece of mixed media. A stake rose out of it and the ice, food colored, was the flame licking at the ice witch. The whole thing was under-lit, purple and green LED lights crashing through it. Food was laid out beneath it, desserts topped with thick red syrups or served in desert cups presenting gummy worms and cookie tombstones.

The band on stage, dressed as raisins with white gloves, played a medley I could now clearly tell was just an endless stream of horror movie scores.

Because obviously what I needed in my life was the Jaws soundtrack raising my blood pressure.

Dun...dun..Dun..dun..dunDundunDunDunDnDnDnDnD!

Finally, I spotted Bia.

"Chatting up Catwoman. I should have known," I said.

The black vinyled stranger laughed at something, champagne flute in hand tipped toward Bia's glass of punch.

"So, you're out of town, too? Where did you manage to—" she stopped, catching my eye "—I'm so sorry. You'll have to excuse me."

Apology and vague disappointment etched into her face, Bia slunk away from the catsuit curves and over to us.

"You found her," she mused, looking past me to Rhys.

He shrugged. "She found me."

"Not that you're a semanticist," I said, "where's Lucas?"

On cue, Lucas appeared with a plate full of delicate finger foods. He eyed Rhys wearily, leaving me standing between them.

"Oh, Rhys is back," Lucas said, possibly unenthusiastically, but that would suggest Lucas had any inflection at all. His eyes flicked from me to Rhys, who honestly looked a little like he might strangle our Professor Plum on the spot.

"So I am," Rhys said, "are you going to volunteer some explanations or do I have to persuade you?"

"Please do not start a fight at this party," I whispered, though there was a chance that was part of Rhys' grand plan. He could have had a reason to get us all kicked out.

Lucas pursed his lips, fighting and failing not to shrink under Rhys' expectant stare. 

"Where would you like me to start?" Lucas asked.