A Matter of Forever (22 page)

“Calling is no use,” Callie says. “He left his phone behind with Mom and took a different one with him. I tried to get him to give us the number, just in case, but ...” She looks over at her mother, now clutching Cameron’s hand in her lap. “But he told us we had to trust him, that he needed this time.”

He’s not even talking to Callie? Or Astrid? Kellan’s completely cut off from
everyone?
Is he even on his mission right now?

“Shit,” Karl murmurs.

“Do you have an idea when he might be back?” Will asks Jonah.

The surprises keep rolling in when my husband admits, “No. But, I’ll let you all know when I know anything.”

I guess I stupidly assumed that Jonah knew where his brother was, knew how he was. That, despite everything, they were still talking. That they still had that bond, that link between them. They’ve both assured me, over and over, that even when they’re furious or hurt, they were always there for one another. Yet, Kellan is now out there somewhere, alone, and—

Jonah takes my hand once more and squeezes it meaningfully, like he knows I’m perilously close to spiraling into the minefields of anxiety. Later, he’s telling me. We’ll talk about this when everyone goes home.

“It might be a good idea to convene the Subcommittee tomorrow in order to ease into the Council meeting on Friday,” Karl muses. “Zthane and I will get moving on our end tonight, so we can give you a plan to present.” He turns to Raul. “Go and visit Bios tonight. See if we’ve somehow left some kind of stone unturned, especially when it comes to the Elders here in Annar.”

Raul stands up; Cora follows. “I’m on it, brother.”

My oldest friend comes over to hug me before they leave. “I’m so happy for you,” she murmurs into my hair. “For the both of you. I know it’s going to be hard, but ... as shitty as tonight may seem, as awful as everything we’ve just learned, try to hold onto the happiness I know you two have finally allowed yourselves to accept. You’re technically still on your honeymoon, you know.”

I kiss her cheek before we let go of one another. She’s so sweet to say this, even though I doubt there will be celebrations on our behalves tonight. I tell her, instead, that I hope we’ll get to hang out soon.

She and Raul leave; the Graystones are close on their heels after Jonah and Karl have a quiet discussion off to the side. Moira tries her best to distract me, and I humor her by asking about Emily’s latest antics. And then, they’re gone, too, Erik as well, and we’re left with just our family.

While I was saying goodbye to everyone, Cameron fixed up a tray of tea and biscuits Will baked earlier in the day; Astrid helps him pour and pass out cups.

“Where did you two end up going?” she asks Jonah, as if we hadn’t just been told a baby had been ripped out of its mother and had its life force sucked out of it. But Astrid Lotus doesn’t have a cruel bone in her entire body. She’s saying this because she’s worried about us. I get that. I do.

But it doesn’t mean I’m not imagining that house of horrors as he tells her, “Rome.”

As she adds honey to her tea, she smiles genuine and wide. “Oh, sweetling, that pleases me so much to finally hear.”

A small miracle occurs, because my husband blushes. Callie laughs, saying, “It took you getting married to crack, huh?”

Will leans back into the couch, curling his fingers around the mug. “I suspect there’s a story here.”

“There is no story,” Jonah insists at the same time Callie says, “Jonah’s Italian.”

The corners of Will’s lips quirk upward. “And ... obviously all Italians must honeymoon in Italy?”

Callie throws her biscuit at him. I totally interpret that as foreplay.

“You know,” Jonah says, “it’s not the first time I’ve been there.”

“The first time
voluntarily
,” Callie counters.

Huh? “Actually,” I tell her, “we went there last summer.”

Both Astrid and Callie’s eyes widen. “Oh, sweetling,” Astrid says. She’s surprisingly misty-eyed. “That’s so wonderful to hear. Just ...” She lays an elegant hand over her heart. “So wonderful.”

I turn toward Jonah, who is busying himself with sugar cubes he doesn’t particularly like in his tea. Am I missing something?

Finally, he looks up at Astrid and says quietly, “You were right.”

All of that misty-eyed countenance turns downright teary.

To the rest of us, he says, “Kellan and I were always a little ... resistant, I guess, to going to Italy.” One of the sugar cubes loses shape between his fingertips. “Italy, to us, represented our mother, so it was ...” He shrugs. “Painful, I suppose.” He looks up, smiles fondly at the woman who raised him. “Any time we went, it was because our uncle or Astrid dragged us there. They thought someday we’d appreciate it, see the value of,”—he chuckles quietly—“our heritage.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I remember once, when I was maybe ... ten? Eleven? My uncle was on a mission, so was my aunt, so Astrid brought Callie, Kel and me to Rome for our every other month weekend of so-called bonding with our familial heritage.”

“Oh my gods!” Callie smacks the arms of her chair. “I totally remember this one.” Smirking, she glances over at her mother. “It was the first time I ever heard you yell at him. Like, really yell—red in the face, voice at the top of your lungs, fists clenched yell.” She chortles.

Astrid merely sips her tea, the corners of her lips hinting at her amusement.

Jonah’s own smile is wry. “Yes, well, I deserved it after the ... uh ...”

“Tantrum,” Callie says helpfully. “Melt down. Hissy fit.”

I can’t help but laugh along with her. “You had a tantrum? At
eleven?”

“It was glorious,” Callie says. “See, I was normally the rabble-rouser. Kellan would have his snit fits, too. But J? He made the rest of us look like brats. So for this to happen—in public no less—”

I’m laughing so hard right now. “You
didn’t!”

Before Jonah can answer, Callie says slyly, “Oh, yes. This was in the middle of the Forum, while Mom was lecturing us about Roman Republic history. She figured that, while we were there, we might as well get a history lesson, too. Kill two birds with one stone and all.”

Astrid’s smile is serene. She’s utterly unapologetic.

“But please, J—continue,” Callie says, motioning toward him.

He rolls his eyes and they bicker for another minute, but honestly? It’s done in an indulgent way, which warms my heart. They’re acting like ... old friends. Good friends.

Brother and sister, even.

There is no discomfort between Jonah and Callie right now, none of the sadness that permeated any room they were in together for so long. Just history. Rich, wonderful, loving history.

My heart swells in my chest.

“The point I’m trying to make,” Jonah finally says, and it’s Cal’s turn to roll her eyes, “is I was,”—he clears his throat—“vocal about why I didn’t want to be there.”

“The Forum?” Cameron asks innocently.

Jonah chuckles. “The Forum. Rome. Italy. Anywhere that wasn’t a beach that had good waves. And Astrid, in return, was quite vocal about how there was going to be a day in which I was going to be grateful for Rome, and for my family’s home, and that I better just shut the hell up and while I was at it, why wasn’t I arguing with her in Italian?”

Astrid says smoothly, “When in Rome, do as the Romans do, sweetling.”

We all laugh and laugh, because the image of Jonah yelling at Astrid (and in public, no less!) is ludicrous.

I take his hand in mine as Cameron recounts a time he and Molly went to Italy. It’s a good story, and I love hearing Molly stories, but ... I can’t help but think about what I’ve just learned about my husband. He took me somewhere last year when I broke down, somewhere he’d never gone voluntarily before, because it’d been too painful for him. I was the first person to share that with him—because, just like he’s my safety, I’m his.

Gods, I love him something fierce.

“I’d like to go back to Italy,” Callie muses. And then, to Cameron, “The way you’ve just described Venice is divine.”

“As there is a portal nearby,” Will says, “there’s nothing stopping you.”

She looks at him then—really looks at him. Not in an angry way, despite his teasing. Just ... like she’s seeing right into him.

And the funny thing is, Will is looking at her the same way. Interesting. And ... promising?

“Maybe you both could take William there,” Astrid says over the rim of her teacup. It’s enough to snap them both out of whatever is happening.

Oh, it’s so selfish of me, but I wish so much that these two would find their way to one another.

I turn to Jonah, but he just smiles and shakes his head. We can talk about this later, too.

Callie says, smoothing her skirt and clearly pretending she didn’t just get lost in Will’s gorgeous brown eyes for a long moment in front of four other people, “I wonder if Kellan has gone there.”

“He came that first time Chloe and I went, too,” Jonah admits. “I mean, he was only there for maybe ten minutes, but he came, too.”

Cameron passes Astrid a napkin and she dabs her eyes. She’s smiling, though. Smiling so beautifully wide that I can only hope that someday I’ll be able to look at one of my children like that, too.

“Did you like Italy?” Will asks me.

“I did,” I tell him. “I loved it.” I squeeze my husband’s hand. “It helps that Jonah’s fluent, because I’m awful at Italian and, you know, languages in general.” I can’t help but tease, “And he’s pretty damn hot when he’s speaking it, too.” I pretend to fan myself.

I love that Jonah blushes for a second time in a single night. That he’s let his guard down enough to not feel like he has to maintain an in control façade 24/7 around everyone, even in front of Cameron and Will. That we are now, definitely, absolutely, one big family. That he’s finally letting people in after years of being the one in control.

“Jonah has always been so wonderful at picking up languages,” Astrid says. “His accents are exquisite.” And then,
“Mi rendi così orgoglioso, figlio mio. Lo sempre hai.”

And he says in return,
“Ti voglio bene, mamma. Grazie per non aver mai rinunciato a me.”

She stands up, her flowing skirt swishing softly, and hugs him. There’s no need to ask him later what they’ve just said, because it’s obvious. And it’s so beautiful I can hardly stand it.

As we lay in bed later, I decide not to push Jonah on any of the details about Kellan’s sabbatical. The truth is ... this is between them. Kellan has asked for space, and he deserves exactly that.

I count to ten and take a deep breath. Jonah told me once that, when things seem too hard, I should take a breath, because sometimes we don’t need to look at the end game to get through the day. If it all seems too hard, we can get through the next breath, and then the next minute. Then the hour, then the day. Inch by inch, step by step.

Gods, I hope Kellan is okay right now.

I roll on my side and stare at Jonah in the pale moonlight. He’s finally fallen asleep, which relieves me greatly. After our family left for the night, he spent another hour on the phone with Zthane and Karl, and then two more with members of the Elders Subcommittee. And then, after that, we debriefed together for a half hour before I strong armed him into getting some sleep before he fell over. It seems too unfair that he has so much responsibility weighing down his shoulders, that we’re both asked, at only twenty years of age, to fumble through what we think is right and wrong for trillions of beings.

I love him. I love that he is such a good man, that his heart is so wide and generous. That he struggles with these decisions, that he is willing to sacrifice so much to ensure others’ well-being whether they know he’s doing it or not. Even mine, when he surely knows I still struggle with how much I miss his brother and crave his presence.

With all that I know about Connections, with all of my assuredness about my choices, I still cannot wrap my mind around how I can be so perfectly in love with my husband, so grateful that his life and mine are intertwined forever, and still want another person, even if I am positive I will never act upon those feelings again.

Letting go is a hard, hard thing. Some days, it seems impossible. Stubbornness sets in, heels dig firmly into the dirt below us, and fingers refuse to uncurl from something so precious to one’s heart even if by a centimeter. Other days, though, it’s a fervent wish.

I thought I’d let Kellan go the moment I chose Jonah. I thought I’d let him go again when our legs dangled above Annar and I broke both our hearts by admitting, whether or not Jonah chose to be in my life, I knew my truth. I thought I’d opened up my hand and watched Kellan’s slip away when I swore before a Justice of the Peace and all our closest friends and family that my life was now tied, emotionally, physically, and legally, with Jonah’s. And, in many ways, I did. Except ... all of those were tiny releases. Not that I’d done it purposely, nor do I ever want to renege on what I’ve chosen for my life, but ... he is still here, firmly entrenched in my heart.

But maybe that’s how it’s always going to be. And maybe, that’s how it is for him, too.

Maybe letting go isn’t about forgetting. Maybe it’s something more—maybe it’s an act of true love.

I just have to keep working on uncurling my fingers so that one day, my palm is open wide.