A Matter of Fate (52 page)

“I did,” Kellan tells me. “His temper was waylaid by the fact that he’s got a very healthy daughter who, apparently, is the most perfect child ever to be born.”

I have no doubt she is. “Can we go and see them?”

He sets his cup down. “I’m sure they’d appreciate that.” Then more hesitantly, “While you were getting ready this morning, I called Callie back.”

I stiffen at her name.

“And,” he adds, “I invited her here to talk to you.”

When I go to stand up, he grabs my arm gently. “Chloe, she came to the party last night to try to talk to you—”

“Probably gloat,” I choke out.

“No. But it’s been five days since you’ve last spoken to Jonah. I think—”

I ignore the curious stares from the people around us as I start yelling. “Why would you do this? You know I’d rather cut myself than talk to her!”

He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment and takes a deep breath. Then his hand slides down my arm to rest on my hand. “I will always want what’s best for you. And this, believe it or not, is best right now. Besides, she’s already here, about twenty feet away, looking as if she’s ready to bolt, too. Hear her out?”

I turn around just enough to see Callie Lotus, gorgeous as a runway model, evil villain of my imagination, picking at a piece of peeling paint on a newspaper box.

“Will you at least stay?” I whisper frantically.

He shakes his head. “This is a conversation for the two of you.”

As if she can hear these words, Callie comes over to our table. She and Kellan hug, which sets off yet another round of uncomfortable, ugly feelings in me.

“Thanks for agreeing to meet this morning, Kel,” she says, her voice better suited to a sexpot diva than a girl of seventeen. Then her eyes settle on me. “Hello, Chloe.”

Like I’m going to volunteer a greeting. I think I end up snarling at her.

Nothing further is said until the server takes her order for chamomile tea. Once that’s done, she says to Kellan, “Give Karl and Moira my best when you go to the hospital.”

“Don’t leave,” I hiss. Callie shrinks back in her chair, no doubt remembering exploding trees and fences, but Kellan is unfazed by this.

“Karl probably needs to be calmed down,” he jokes to me. “For Moira’s sake.”

Uncaring about what little bit of pride I have left, I plead, “Please don’t leave me here with her.”

He turns in his chair so he’s facing me. “Chloe, you know I’d never purposely put you in a position where you’d get hurt, right?”

“Then don’t leave—”

“You trust me, right?”

I nod helplessly.

To Callie, he says, “Remember what we agreed on?”

Callie sighs, sipping her tea. “Yeah, yeah. You aren’t the only one who has conditions. My mother, when she found out I was coming . . . .”

Kellan laughs. “Astrid not approving of interference? Shocking.” As Callie gives him a rueful smile, he stands up.

“Please don’t go,” I beg again. And then, unfairly, to myself:
If you truly love me, you won’t go.

“I have to,” he says, voice oddly strained. He leans down, kisses the top of my head, and extracts his hand from mine. And then he leaves. He actually leaves me alone with Callie Lotus.

Who is all calm and grace, sipping her tea like we’re in a swank restaurant, friends rather than enemies. But then, maybe she doesn’t see me as an enemy or even a rival, since she’s won Jonah back.

She leans back in the chair and tilts her face to the sun. Her sunglasses are on the table—she doesn’t have a raging hangover, after all—but when her eyes train on me, I’m startled to see that they are almost my shade of green. “Do you remember anything about last night, Chloe?”

My eyes narrow behind the dark plastic. “Why?”

“We had a bit of a conversation,” she says, “or rather, I attempted a conversation. You slapped my face, called me a whore, and tossed your drink all over my shirt.”

I’m sorry, but—
what
?

“Not that I’m blaming you.” She pours a bit of honey in her tea. “I mean, I knew you and Kel were blitzed by the amount of empty glasses on the table in front of you two, but I thought, what did I have to lose?”

I dislike her, this is true, but I am not a violent person by nature, nor am I typically someone who’d be so crass to actually slur somebody, even her, in public like that. “Um . . . I don’t remember any of that . . . .”

“I figured you wouldn’t. Thus the call to Kel. You and I, Chloe, need to have a talk. And now that you’re sober,” she looks me up and down, frowning, “this’ll be a bit more civil.” She pauses, fingering her cup. “Hopefully.”

“You have nothing to say that I want to hear.”

“Look,” she says, hands flat against the white tablecloth. “This isn’t easy for me, either. You think I want to take on the girl who blows stuff up and then smacks me, calls me names, and ruins one of my favorite shirts? Heck no. But I’m here, because I care about Jonah.”

“
Love
him,” I growl.

She’s unapologetic. “This is true. And an even better reason to be here.” She motions for the waiter to bring another pot of tea. “Before I tell you what happened last week between me and Jonah, I’d like to go back to the beginning, so maybe you can understand where I’m coming from.”

The nerve! She steals my boyfriend and then has the audacity to come and brag about it?

“I met Jonah and Kellan Whitecomb when we were seven.” She smiles as the waiter sets the pot down. “I had a really lousy childhood. My parents had been murdered the year before—”

“What?” I say, taken aback by how calmly she’s telling me this.

“My biological parents had been murdered,” she repeats, like I’m an idiot, “and I’d been living in an orphanage until adopted by Astrid. She happened to live a couple of houses down from the Whitecombs, so I got to know the boys pretty quickly. They were over at Astrid’s a lot, what with their mother dead and their father mostly absent. They were my best friends.”

It takes quite a bit of control not to demand her to get to the point, and she must see it from my face.

“Well, anyway—I won’t lie, I loved Jonah from the moment I met him. He was so intensely loyal, so incredibly kind to everyone, even me. I was an outcast—outside of our little group, that is. Being . . . well, what I am, many adult Magicals shunned me and refused to have anything to do with Astrid through association. I mean . . . I really shouldn’t even exist.”

Stupidly, I’m intrigued now, when I really ought to be leaving. “Meaning?”

“One of my biological parents was a Magical—an Elf . . . .” she motions up and down her body. “But my mother was a Human non. I think that’s why they were murdered. I mean, it’s all well and good for the different Magical races to mate together, but gods forbid, a Magical and a non? It’s forbidden, you know.”

Uh, I didn’t know. I worry even more for Lizzie and Graham.

“So lame,” she mutters, pouring herself another cup of tea. “Anyway, Jonah always accepted me from day one. I mean, so did Kellan, but it just wasn’t the same. And everyone knew I crushed on him—even him, although we’d pretend I didn’t. Then in ninth grade, I finally worked up the courage to say something to him.” She laughs ruefully. “He was so surprised. I don’t think he’d ever considered me as an option. Why would he? I’m some weird half-breed, not even Magical. But somehow or other, we started dating.

“My mother warned me repeatedly that Jonah and I would never work out, not with him being all Council bound and me being a non. He even alluded to this a number of times. I always just assumed he was saying it because he heard it from his father, but, upon reflection . . . .” Callie shifts her eyes away from me. “But I didn’t care. Star-crossed lovers and all, right? And then he went to see some local Seer. Came back restless, distracted . . . and eventually more and more distant. And then came the kicker,”—her voice drops to a pretty fair approximation of Jonah’s—”‘We’re moving to California, and I’m really sorry, but it’s best to break up now.’”

Good lords, why do I feel sorry for this girl? How is she doing this?

“It was awful. I initially blamed his father—the Old Man always disapproved of me. And Jonah wouldn’t talk about it, wouldn’t elaborate.” She takes a long sip of her tea. “Kellan didn’t know what was going on, because Jonah wouldn’t talk to him, either. Let’s just say I had a really hard time when they left. I called him, of course. All the time. I cried and cried, and he was so apologetic. But when push came to shove, all he’d say was that things had changed, that it wasn’t me, that he did love me, but he knew his heart belonged elsewhere. I’m sure I don’t have to explain to you how impossible that sounds when you love someone so completely.”

I don’t answer, mostly because I’m still focusing on the whole
love
bit.

“And then came the day he told me he was dating someone. Claimed he’d found the love of his life, and then apologized again for hurting me. Man, I was so pissed off. How was it possible that he’d found the love of his life in such a short time, when I’d been there, more than willing to be such a thing for so many years? What made it worse was when Kellan called, more upset than I’ve ever heard him, claiming J swept in while he was with me in Maine and stole his girlfriend away. That same weekend J had told me about you.”

So many pieces of the puzzle start to fall into place now.

“I was furious,” she continues, “just really heartbroken, thinking that Jonah would ever do that to anyone, let alone his best friend and brother. But, of course, there was also Kellan’s claim that you and Jonah had known each other even before I’d even met him, and that Jonah insisted he’d been in love with you his entire life.” She sets her cup down and gives me a look—it’s a combination of many things, but the most obvious is scorn. “I’m sure it’s not beyond your scope of imagination to guess how I reacted. And Jonah didn’t deny anything. I became a masochist of the worst kind. I would call Kellan and demand to know what was going on. Poor Kel, he really struggled . . . . I at least had the gift of distance. I never had to see you and Jonah together. But he did.” Now she gives me a look of abject disapproval.

I merely stare back, refusing to give her a peek of the shame I’m actually feeling.

“When Kel told me he’d finally come to grips about you and Jonah, he urged me to also accept there was no changing the situation. I couldn’t. I thought maybe if I showed up and reminded J of what we’d once had, things could go back to the way they once were. So, I came to California. Jonah was stunned, to say the least, when I called to tell him I was in town. He tried explaining how I’d wasted my time coming, that things were never going to change between us, but I didn’t want to listen. Who does when the person they love says stuff like that? And, by this point, I had very little pride left—I mean, I’d basically thrown myself at him—so begging and pleading weren’t beneath me. But nothing would sway him. He was sad, I think, knowing he was hurting me again with his refusals. I mean, I know the guy. He doesn’t get off on hurting people. But, I was being pigheaded and he had to basically slap me in the face—”

“He
slapped
you?” I interrupt, aghast.

She rolls her eyes. “No, Chloe. Not literally. He laid down the law, hard. And then, finally . . . .” She looks down at her teacup, but not quickly enough to hide the unshed tears in her eyes, “I began to comprehend what he was saying. Really accept it. My heart, I think, died a little at that moment.” Then she picks the cup up and busies herself with drinking.

I don’t know what to think. Here she is, telling me that Jonah forcefully told her it was over, that he’s in love with me, and yet . . . I
saw
them kissing.

“Do you know what it’s like,” she says quietly, after clearing her throat a few times, “what it feels like to have to
hear
, to
accept
that there is no hope to ever be with the person you’re in love with? It pretty much sucks, Chloe. Because it’s not like I have an on/off switch when it comes to my feelings. I can’t just say, ‘Oh, well, okay then. You don’t love me, so I don’t love you.’ That’s not how I work. See, I love him. I’m in love with Jonah still.”

Well,
duh
.

She shoves her sunglasses on and levels me with a look I wish I could decode. “He knew, of course. He felt all that stuff in me. And . . . I think he took pity on me.”

Pity. Right. How stupid of me. When one pities another, the obvious solution is to kiss that person senseless.

If she’s bothered by my lack of participation in this conversation, she doesn’t show it. “He was my boyfriend for three years, Chloe. He may’ve been in love with you all those years, and you two may have some kind of super-Magical Connection that makes you soul mates or whatever, but I’ve known and loved the guy my whole life. So yeah, I asked for one last kiss. And, I’m gonna be selfish and say I’m not sorry for doing so. Because no matter what you may think or feel, you’re not the only person out there who loves him. I just had no idea that it’d be the equivalent of World War III when it came to you, him, and his brother.”

I have to clear my throat to speak. “You didn’t think that this might upset me?”

“Frankly, Chloe, you were at the bottom of my care list that afternoon.”

I jerk into a standing position, having heard more than enough.

“Oh, sit down,” she snaps. “I’m not done. Gods.”

“Look, you don’t get to just order me around—”

“Do you want to hear the rest, or what?”

Is she for real? “If you mean how you two kissing made him remember what a great thing he had in you, then—”

She has the audacity to laugh. A nice, long, loud laugh that makes the people around us stare. “Is that what you think happened?”

I’m taken aback enough I sit back down.

“I may’ve put my heart and soul into that kiss, but he sure didn’t. In fact, I was just about to break away, because I’d realized that he really wasn’t, and never had been, mine, when we noticed you.”

“You expect me to believe this?” I ask, hating the fact that it’s done shrilly.

“Yes,” she says flatly.

That’s enough. “Why are you here, Callie?”