Page 66 of A Match Made in Hell
Her voice deepens. Doesn’t that make you furious?
I shake my head. ‘No.’
‘She graduated with honours,’ Sath says. ‘Has an internship with a firm in London. The one you never applied for.’ His lips brush my ears. ‘She has everything you ever wanted, and it was effortless.’
If only you’d listened to me about how to behave.
If only you’d tried harder to keep him.
But I did. Ididtry. I was attentive, and sexy, and loving, even when it wasn’t being reciprocated, like I could be enough for us both if I only did everything right, but when Mum died, the one time I needed him – the first moment he’d ever seen me fall apart – heabandonedme. He spent three years pretending to be my life raft only to set me adrift when my ship went down, and Sasha watched it happen.
And then she capitalised on it.
I’m not jealous. I’m not even angry.
There’s no rage to tamper down, no harsh words to swallow. Just the same level of indifference they showed to me in my final months.
To quote my mother, they are simply anextreme disappointment, and quite frankly it’s nice not to have that phrase directed at me for a change. I guess Sasha isn’t so perfect after all. All that time I spent wishing I was her and, in reality, she was jealous ofme, to the point she was actively trying to destroy my relationship. She spent the first few years Noah and I were together listing all his faults to me, and when that didn’t turn me against him, she turnedhimagainstme, encouraging me to become everything he hated so she could steal him for herself.
The group chortle about something that’s probably not funny, and the pang of longing doesn’t come. The smile on my face after paintballing today was far realer than any I would have made here. I get my fill of jokes from Harper and the others now, fromSath even, when he’s in the right mood to make them. I lean against him, and he slides a hand around my waist.
‘Do you envy them? How happy they are?’ Sath asks.
Truth be told, I don’t feel much of anything. I could be looking at a group of strangers, or having that awkward moment when you meet someone you used to know in the street and have no idea what to say because your lives have moved so far apart. And their life feels too small for me now – I think in some ways, it always did, like I was always aware there wasmorebut I didn’t know how to find it – constrained by the four walls of the same pub they visit every Friday. Of course they ended up together. They have no idea what else is out there.
The answer to his question falls from my lips as easily as melted butter from a spoon. ‘No. No, I don’t envy them.’
He stares down at me, frowning, looking for the lie that’s not there. ‘This should have been one of your hardest tasks.’
‘Then give me something worth being jealous about,’ I say. I’ve been dead under four months and they’ve forgotten I’ve existed. Why should I give them a second thought? ‘This isn’t what I want any more.’
The hand on my waist tenses. ‘You don’t want to go home?’
‘Here?’ I take in the stale, faded wallpaper, listening to the idle chatter of people who haven’t battled demons or lived in a magical cliff that haseverything. ‘Maybe I don’t.’ Then, because he’s still frowning, I add brightly, ‘Maybe I’ll move to Aruba.’
Sath huffs a laugh. ‘Why Aruba?’
‘Why not Aruba? I could live in one of those beach hut thingies.’
I’m joking, obviously, although the idea is not unappealing. There’s nothing to say I can’t be successful with my toes in the sand. Sasha can spend her days making tea and shuffling papers around a desk, while I work remotely from the beach. Notallmy daydreams are frivolous.
Sath’s laughter dies. ‘You’ve passed envy. We should return to Asphodel.’
Oh. Daydreaming will be harder in the dark. I drink in my surroundings one final time, imprinting the splashes of garish colour into my memory before I lose them again, and follow Sath on to the street. He doesn’t speak, staring at the moon while wind rifles through strands of his black hair, a look of such yearning on his face that it makes me yearn for him.
‘Sath . . .’ I say cautiously. ‘This forty-eight-hour thing. Do you ever use it? Do you ever . . . go anywhere?’
He glances at me, brow pinched. ‘No. I’ve never thought about it.’
‘You can portal anywhere in a matter of seconds, and you’ve never thought about it?’ Sometimes I have to question his intelligence. It’s on the tip of my tongue to invite him to come and visit me in Aruba, but that seems like a dangerous invitation. Sath in swimming trunks would not be good for the health of my freshly restarted heart. Still, it makes me wonder what else he hasn’t done in a while.
‘You know what you need?’ I say. ‘A night off.’
Sath sighs. ‘That’s not a good idea.’
‘It’s an excellent idea.’ I fold my arms. ‘You spend all your time worrying about ruling Hell.’
‘Not true,’ he says, the corners of his mouth turning up. ‘Sometimes I’m worrying about you.’
