“We knew neither one of our parents would approve, so we snuck around. We fell in love in that desperate way only two teenagers think is reasonable. All the way through the autumn, we spent every minute that we could together, sneaking around, protecting our secret—which is not easy, by the way, when you work with very observant people. All-too-brief stolen kisses behind the Tilt-a-Whirl, running away for a night and laying in some field in Iowa, just so we could talk and look at the stars.”
“Aw, it’s so cute that you refer to sex as ‘star-gazing,’” Dani teased.
“No, I mean, we were technically married, but we never—even though Alex tried his best with the whole psychic thing, eventually, because he was touching me, I start seeing things and the experimentation phase ended very quickly.”
Jillian gasped. “Married? You were married to Alex Lancaster?”
Sonja looked stricken. “Oh, sweetie, if the League doesn’t know about that, I’m going to have so much paperwork on my hands.”
Cordelia chuckled. “We were sixteen. We definitely didn’t have our parents’ consent. It wasn’t legal. It was a carnival marriage.”
“Like at a kissing booth?” Jillian asked
“No, it’s a sort of tradition with some carnivals—not all, just some. You go in front of all of your friends and you tell them you want to be married and you ride once around the carousel together. It’s in no way legally binding, and because we were sneaking around, we couldn’t even do that in front of the others. We had to sneak and turn the carousel on with no lights or sound.”
“Aw, that’s so sweet.”
“What do you do to get a divorce? Ride the carousel backward?” Jillian asked.
“Also, in front of everybody,” Cordelia said, nodding.
“That’s so interesting!” Jillian breathed, her eyes wide.
“I know that look, and you are not following carnivals for research purposes,” Sonja told her. “You will have to content yourself with running your own personal League kingdom, having superpowers, and bearing the magical baby of the handsome, wealthy man who adores you.”
“Fine,” Jillian grumbled, tearing a bite off of her pizza.
“My mom wouldn’t stand for anything that stood between her and her meal ticket, so the minute she realized what was happening between us, she ‘arranged for our departure’ back to Florida.” Cordelia swallowed thickly. She’d told them enough. It wouldn’t do to tell them how Cordelia had cried across five states while Bernadette drove their trailer south, how she’d refused to speak to her mother for months. Their rental in Florida had been a war zone all winter, culminating in Cordelia threatening not to go out on the road at all. But then Bernadette had called her bluff, refusing to pay any of the bills, letting the power get shut off, letting the cupboards empty, letting the late notices pile up—until Cordelia had been so frightened that she’d agreed to join another carnival just to assure herself of her next meal. It wasn’t like she could go to a crowded mall and get a fast food job with her gift. That was the summer that she started forming an honest-to-God escape plan.
“So, this afternoon was the first time you’d seen him since you were sixteen?” Dani asked. “No wonder you were thrown.”
“Considering the circumstances, I think you held it together pretty admirably,” Sonja told her.
Cordelia’s cheeks flushed. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’m going to do about it. I don’t know what to say to him, or even what we would talk about. He seemed surprised that I still existed, so I guess that he never got the letters I sent. I mean, as far as he knows, I just ditched him in the middle of the night. And it’s been almost fifteen years? It’s not like we’re going to just hop back into each other’s lives like nothing happened. We’re different people now. And there’s all his League business to consider. If he’s as high up as I think he is, then he probably can’t have a relationship without his girlfriend being approved by Akako Hiyashi herself.”
“That actually makes sense,” Sonja agreed.
“And if you decide to reconnect with Alex, how is that going to affect things with Brendan?” Jillian asked. When Cordelia opened her mouth to object, Jillian added. “Honey, we’ve seen the way you look at each other. Trust me, it’s a look we recognize.”
“Things with Brendan are…I don’t know.” Cordelia threw her hands up. “When I’m with him, it’s just so peaceful. I feel nothing when I touch him, just the endless quiet of the grave. And that’s soothing.”
“Man, that’s dark,” Jillian marveled.
“I meant for that to come out differently,” Cordelia agreed. “But he’s becoming harder to read, not easier. I don’t want to trust someone only to have them turn on me,” Cordelia said. “I’ve had enough people using me for my talent. I don’t need that here, too. Maybe it’s better that I just stay away from both of them.”
“Well, if that’s what you feel you need, that’s a reasonable path to choose,” Dani told her. “But if you’re attracted to either one of them, and you like them, I think it would be sort of sad to end up alone. Speaking of which, have you thought about Thanksgiving, hon? I know Clarissa and about half the mamas around here want to invite you.”
Cordelia frowned, sipping her soda. “Really? Why?”
“Because you’re single and gorgeous and there are a lot of unmatched people in Mystic Bayou, and so far, all of the ‘imported partners’ have chosen to stick around instead of dragging their kids into the outside world,” Jillian said, shrugging. “So they’re willing to take their chances.”
“But if you pick one, make sure it’s Clarissa’s because she’s a hell of a cook. Besides, Zed has pretty much laid claim to you as an adopted family member,” Dani told her.
“Well, that’s…weird,” Cordelia mused. “And I’m not interested in that. The big holiday meal, the potential set-ups, anything.”
Honestly, the very idea made Cordelia shudder. So many people crowded around a table, handing each other plates and platters. She’d be passed out by the end of the night—and not from a full belly.
“Well, if you change your mind, let me know. Even if it’s just to bring you some leftovers,” Jillian said.
“You know, this is a real downer of a conversation,” Sonja said, pulling the bottle of vodka from the emergency kit. “Romantic aversions and holidays spent alone. This is not the light-hearted frolic of a girls’ night I was promised.”
Cordelia laughed and nodded to her dinette set. “OK, pour me a shot of that—a light shot, mind you, because I don’t really drink—and I will lighten the mood. Let’s move over to the table.”
“You’re not going to do a reading for us, are you?” Jillian asked, clearly skeptical. “Because we don’t want you to do anything that would make you uncomfortable. This isn’t a Ouija-board-and-truth-or-dare sort of gathering.”
“No, but I appreciate the consideration.” Cordelia plucked an old deck of cards from her purse, a safe pack that only she had touched, and had played solitaire with for years. The others moved toward her table, with Cordelia nudging them along. While they were trundling along, she made movements toward each of them that they didn’t even notice. Sonja poured a considerable portion of the vodka into a pitcher with orange juice. Jillian just got juice, and was content with it.