Page 87 of The Narrow

“But I did.”

“You did,” I acknowledge.

“Who am I, Eden? Delphine or Grace?” she asks.

“I don’t know. Both. Neither,” I say. “You’re Del. You’re the girl I love.” I haven’t said it before. Maybe it isn’t even true—not yet. But it will be. I know with all my soul that our love is a promised thing.

She looks at me, her lips parted. And in that moment, my heart cracks like brittle ice, and just like that, the promise tumbles into truth.

“I love you, Del,” I whisper.

“You promised never to lie to me,” she reminds me.

“I’m not lying. I love you,” I tell her. I press my lips to hers, and she lets out a soft sound of longing. “Del or Delphine or Grace, I love you,” I say, tears in my eyes.

She’s the one who kisses me this time, not gentle but hungry, half exultant and half desperate. But just as quickly as the kiss begins, she pulls away.

“Maeve,” she says. “I left her there. In the river.”

“Do you remember?” I ask.

She puts her hands to her head. “Tiny bits and pieces. I remember her. Her hands. I remember...” A blush creeps up her neck. She touches one finger to her lower lip. “We were supposed to be together forever.”

There’s a lump in my throat like a stone. Even death didn’t keep them apart. Who am I in the face of that? “Do you know what happened? How Grace drowned?” I ask.

Del shakes her head. “That’s down in the dark. In the water. I can’t go there,” she says, shivering. “I don’t think I can think about Grace too much. It’s—she—” She gives a shudder, and for a moment her breathing stops.Shestops. Her body goes still, then limp, and I lunge forward in time to catch her.

She sags against me but quickly gets her feet under her again, coughing and spluttering on nothing as she straightens up. Her face is pale as a sheet of paper.

“Let’s not do that again,” I say, and she nods. “So thinking about Grace and about that night is a definite no-go. But you haven’t just drowned, so I think we’re doing okay.” My voice is shaky.

“Is that supposed to be my life, then? Trying desperately not to think too hard about who I used to be?” she asks. She sounds lost. “And what about Maeve?”

“Maybe we can make her understand,” I say. I think of her pressing me down onto the bed, the snarl of anger in her voice. She died for love of Grace. Died in panic and pain. Maybe she’s too damaged by that trauma to listen. To let go.

“I loved her,” Delphine says. It’s almost a question. She looks at me as if I can answer it. “I was the one who loved her so much, we died for each other. It was me, wasn’t it?”

“It was Grace. And you are Grace. Or part of you is,” I say. I hesitate. “What about now? Do you still love her?”

“I don’t know,” she says. She shuts her eyes. “Yes,” shewhispers, and I know—she is remembering. The power of that love is flooding through her.

I ease back. “I wish there was some way you could be together again,” I say. It isn’t a lie. Not really. I do wish Grace and Maeve could be happy again, reunited.

And the idea of losing Del feels like its own death.

“I don’t want to die,” Del whispers. “I don’t want to go back there, Eden. It’s all darkness and cold and you’re dying with every breath.”

“What if...” I trail off. It’s too crazy an idea. It probably won’t work. But she looks at me with a bright shard of hope glinting in her eye, and I say it anyway. “What if you didn’t have to go back to the river to be with Maeve? What if she could escape the same way Grace did?”

She looks at me blankly. “How?”

“Grace and Maeve’s chance at life, their chance to be in love, was stolen from them,” I say. “But we could give it back if Maeve could do the same thing. Maeve could be part of me, the way Grace is part of you. Maybe if they—if we were together, it would be enough to keep them both alive. Give them back to each other.”

And then I could have Del. It wouldn’t be the same me—but does it matter? I won’t have to give her up.

Maybe being me doesn’t matter so much if I can have that.

“Could we even survive like that? With the river trying to pull us back every moment?” Del asks.

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