Page 63 of Beyond Enemy Vows
"I was not with her nor near her," I double down on my lie. "Your man was mistaken. It's fucking Athens. I didn't know they were here. I didn't meet with them, and I gave George the thing because it's fucking beneath me."
The line goes dead before I can respond.
I throw the phone onto the bed. Whatever my father thinks he knows, whatever he plans to do, it doesn't matter. In Rome, I will tell Calli how I feel. In Rome, we will figure out how to be together openly.
In Rome, everything will change.
And after that, I'll figure out how to deal with my father.
19
CALLI
When I was twelve years old, I thought I was dying.
It happened during a sleepover at Keira's house, sometime around midnight. I woke up to something wet between my thighs. I staggered to the bathroom, switched on the light, and saw blood smeared down my legs.
I remember the panic, how I forgot to breathe. I didn't even think to call for an adult. Instead, I sat on the cold tile, knees pulled to my chest, sobbing.
The door slowly opened without a knock, and there was Keira. She was four months older, with the same untamed red hair she has now, tangled around her face. She took one look at me and knelt right there beside me.
She brushed the hair out of my face and must have seen just how scared I was.
"Let me tell you a secret," Keira says, face serious. "When you bleed, it means you're becoming a woman."
She hugged me and then said, "You're not dying. Trust me. I just went through this."
Keira then rummaged through her drawers and handed me what looked like a thick napkin with wings. "You'll need these now. Here, I'll show you."
I nodded, tears still wet on my cheeks, not fully understanding but trusting her completely.
Afterward, we went back to her room, me in a fresh pair of her pajamas. We sat cross-legged on her bed, our knees touching as she told me everything her mom told her and how all women have it.
It was that night we made a pact. If something's too scary to say out loud, too hard to deal with on our own, just text the other person "I poked my eye" and we'll come. No matter what.
We settled on that phrase because twelve-year-old us thought our stupid brothers would never suspect it's code.
And now, all these years later, Keira's never used it. I've only used it once.
Until now.
It's 9:00 p.m. as I stare at the glowing screen of my phone and type the words.
I poked my eye.
I hit send before I can talk myself out of it.
My period tracking app says I'm two weeks late. Fourteen days. That's got to mean something more than stress.
The irony isn't lost on me. The emergency code born the day my period started now being used because it hasn't.
I curl onto my side in bed and wait, the phone clutched against my chest. My necklace, Niko's diamond, feels heavy against me.
Thirty minutes later, my phone vibrates.
Land tomorrow morning. 10 a.m.
That's it. No questions. No hesitation. Just like we promised.
