Page 49 of Texting Mr. Stranger

“Her friend, the one with the pink hair. Her name’s Emily.”

“Why are you telling me that?” Elio snaps.

“Maybe it had something to do with how your voice got all dreamy there,” I say with a slight grin.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he snarls. “Just because you’ve lost your head over a woman you barely know, it doesn’t mean I have. I haven’t even spoken to her.”

“But you’ve noticed her.”

“Have I?” he snaps.

“It’s normally difficult to get you this riled up.”

He flips me the bird and then folds his arms, leaving me to wonder if I just accidentally struck on a nugget of truth.

“It wouldn’t mean anything anyway,” he says. “If I saw her and thought,Damn, she’s fine, there’s nothing I could do about it. I couldn’t pursue her any more than you can pursue Bella. It would mean bringing an innocent into our lives.”

“They’re already in our lives,” I point out. “Like it or not, it’s the way it is.”

“Not for long, though. Tomorrow, they’ll be able to go back to normal.” He looks out the window. It’s like he doesn’t want me to read his expression. “What have you told them?”

“Nothing yet, but they’ve pieced some together. It’d be difficult not to.”

“Yet?”

“You heard me.”

He turns back to me; now it’s my turn to look away. “You’re not considering bringing her into the fold, are you?”

“What else am I supposed to do?” I snap. Last night returns to me with full force and savage hunger. The way we kissed, and she moaned, and … “She’s probably already guessed most of it. She’s not an idiot.”

“Dad made us promise never to let in any civilians. He did that for a reason—their safety.”

“Like I said, she’s already in it,” I snap. “It’s too late to turn back now.”

“Says who? We’ve lied to civilians before. Or you could lock them in the guesthouse and tell them nothing. Sure, they’ll be confused, but it won’t make any difference.”

“It’ll make a difference to me.”

“Why?”

I almost lie to him. Or snap at him and tell him to mind his own goddamn business, but I can’t bring myself to do it. It’s like I need to tell the truth. Maybe I’m just sick of all the deceit. “Because she deserves to know.”

Elio says nothing. It’s like I can feel him seething next to me.

“So you do like her, then,” he says as we pull up at our walled estate.

“Are we twelve?”

“That’s not a no.”

“Yes, Elio,” I say sarcastically, but there’s nothing ironic about my words. Maybe I think making a joke about it can somehow lessen the impact. “I like her. Is that what you need to hear?”

“Just good to hear the truth, is all,” he grunts.

“That’s why I’m telling Bella who I really am.”

When I pause outside the gate, rolling down the window to scan my thumb, Elio says, “What if she doesn’t want you when she learns the truth?”

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