Page 102 of Female Fantasy
Ryke shakes his head. “Please.”
I look at the mer I love.
My prince. My protector.
But Ryke avoids my eyes, refusing to answer.
“Known what?”
Chapter Twenty-One
I stare down at the crinkled piece of paper in my hand, then back up at the giant brick condominium building in front of me.
“Oh well,” I mumble to myself. “Here goes nothing.”
Biting my lip, I buzz the apartment number Tey gave me.
Static sounds on the other end. Then a lovely high-pitched voice.
“Come on up!” a woman sings.
The door buzzes open, and I hurry inside.
Nico’s mother’s apartment is on the second floor at the end of the hall. I prepare to knock, but she beats me to it. “Door’s open!” she calls from the other side.
I take a deep breath and turn the handle.
The apartment is tiny but charming. It’s a studio with one big window lighting up the space and a view of a big oak tree outside. There’s a small kitchenette, where a teakettle heatson the stove. The wallpaper is peeling slightly, but the crown moldings are in excellent shape. She’s replaced all the light fixtures with ceiling fans. Even standing in the entryway, I can tell this isn’t merely an apartment.
This is a home.
A safe space to start over.
To get to know yourself again.
Nico’s mom sits cross-legged on a cushy love seat. She’s as beautiful as I remember—big eyes, a blue so light they’re practically gray, and Nico’s blond hair flowing down her back. But now, more than a few strands of white mingle with those honey locks, and those eyes are creased with well-earned wrinkles. When she sees me, her face breaks into a wide smile that I’ve seen on her son only once or twice.
“Joonie Saboonchi, is that you? I haven’t seen you since you were small enough to hide under my skirts! Nico, come—look who it is!”
At the sound of his name, Nico steps out from behind the curtain separating his mother’s bed from the rest of the space. He’s dressed in the same clothes he was wearing this morning, but his normally neat hair looks messy. As if he’s been pulling on it the way he tends to do when he’s stressed. Or like a lover ran her hands through it.
I swallow back the bile making its way into my mouth and put on a brave face.
“Hi,” I squeak.
Nico looks at me as if I’m a mirage, his eyes wide with disbelief. “What are you doing here?”
“Tey sort of gave up your whereabouts.”
“Shouldn’t you be with your soul mate?” Nico’s voice is hard, relentless.
My stomach drops about twenty stories.
“About that… Nico, I need to talk to you. I’m so—”
“Not now,” he says, clenching his jaw as if the words require effort. “I’m with my mom. You should go.”
I nod, trying not to let my insides splatter all over the floor. “Okay. I’ll go.”
