She leans against the door, still looking for him. “That's what you had to put up with for a hundred some odd years?”
“More or less.”
“Is it more or is it less?” I think for a moment.
“More.”
Chapter Fifteen
Ava
“Is Peter coming in?” Mom calls from the kitchen.
“I don't know,” I yell back. “Are you coming in? Please say you're coming in. I'm about ready to explode and I don't think I can take anymore.” My voice shakes and I have to close my eyes for a moment. The world is a heavy thing, and it's crushing me.
“Take my hand.”
“Hm?” Takes me a moment to open my eyes and figure out what he said. The porchlight sparkles on his hair. It's in his eyes, but with my good vision, I can see the glittering irises of his mismatched eyes. God, he's so beautiful. He holds his hand out to me and I take it.
“I want to try something.”
“Go ahead.” His skin is cool as it meets mine. I watch as he stares at our linked hands. I wait for something to happen. My eyes close of their own volition. They snap open a second later.
“What are you doing?” My hand's got that feeling like when you lay on it and then the sensation comes back slowly. Prickly. And, warm. And... really nice.
“How are you doing that?” My eyes are open and I feel like I've gotten a jolt of... something. It's like dipping my entire body in a cool, still lake. Silent and quiet. And calm.
“It was a guess.” His gaze is still on our hands. My fingers flex. His thumb traces my knuckles, back and forth. I'm not used to such a human gesture from him.
“Thank you. That was. Amazing.” I have no other word for it. I feel like I could take on anything. Even Ivan.
Maybe not.
“Ava, dinner's ready. Why don't you bring Peter in?” I hear Dad hiss to Mom as they walk into the living room, “I didn't know he was coming over. When did this happen?”
“Shh,” she says back.
My hearing picks up on Aj whispering to Mom as well.
She was saying something about what could Peter and I possibly be doing in the doorway and it couldn't be anything good. Mom says something about giving me privacy and that Peter wouldn't do anything that wasn't gentlemanly.
“You know I can't eat,” Peter says in my ear.
“We put cheese in the burritos so you can't have them anyway. So just come and sit next to me and show Aj and Dad that you're a nice human boy. Let's just be human tonight. Please?”
“Human,” he says, taking my hand and kissing the top of it. “Okay.”
I lead him inside, praying that I'd made the right choice.
“Look who came over,” I say, presenting him to Mom, Aj and Dad. Their reactions are mixed. Mom winks. Aj frowns. Dad looks pissed. So really, we've covered the rainbow of emotions in one room. Go us.
“Dad, you remember Peter, right?” Such a stupid question. “And you met Aj earlier.” He nods to her. She gives him a little wave. Oh dear. Now Dad knows that Peter was here earlier.
“It is nice to meet you again, Mr. Sullivan.” Peter puts out his hand. Oh, well done.
“Nice to meet you, Peter. Why don't you take a seat so we can talk.” He shakes Peter's hand, but the look on his face says he'd get more pleasure out of breaking Peter's fingers. He wouldn't stand a chance. Peter could crush his fingers without even blinking.
Dad just thinks he has the upper hand. All the rest of us know he doesn't, but are willing to let him believe so. Unless he starts being a tyrant. Then he'll get shut down.
We all troop into the living room for the Interrogation.
Peter sits down on the chair next to the couch, leaving me no option but to sit on the couch next to Mom. Which is good, because I can give him subtle hints via my eyebrows about what he should and should not say.
Dad gets right down to it.
“I suppose I have you to thank for getting my wife so quickly to the hospital this week.”
“You are more than welcome. I did what needed to be done.” He doesn't sound like an eighteen-year-old. This is the first problem.
Aj looks like she wants to add something, but I give her a glare and she keeps her mouth shut.
“So Peter, my wife tells me you play water polo. That must be exciting.” Peter doesn't even glance at me. Apparently Mom had given Dad some sort of backstory about Peter. Except she'd neglected to inform me what she'd told him. We hadn't had time to coordinate our stories.
“Yes, it is.” This is the second problem. Dad's going to think Peter's monosyllabic answers are snarky, or rude or something. But even if Peter were eloquent and the most charming person on earth, Dad would hate him.
“Peter loves to swim,” I add, trying to throw a life raft. It's probably too little too late. We're sinking and we haven't even left the dock.
Dad leans back, doing that weird leg-on-knee thing guys do. I think he's trying to look grown-up and threatening. Little does he know Peter's got at least sixty years on him. Ew. Head in the game, Ava.
“I didn't know there were many water polo teams in Maine.” Dad's eyes narrow, as if he's trying to figure out what water polo could be a euphemism for.
“They have them at all the fancy private schools. I had a friend growing up who went to Galdon and she did archery,” Mom says, twining her hand with Dad's. Using her feminine wiles again.
Peter looks as if he's fascinated by us. By the whole situation. I try to send him a mental kick in the shin.
“I did archery at camp. Remember Sam? I never hit the target.” Aj tries to inject some humor. I think it's far too late. Dad isn't really in a laughing mood.
Peter finally speaks. “I have done that as well.”
“He's a really good shot.” Do I sound like I drank the Peter Kool-Aid or what?
“I bet you are.” Dad's eyes narrow, trying to decide if that is some sort of sexual innuendo. At least I think that's why his face is like that. It's kind of debatable. I have no idea what goes on in my father's head. Say something, I telegraph to Peter via my mind and eyebrows.
“I cannot eat, but I would like to sit with you. If that is all right.”
“What's wrong with our food?” Dad snaps. I shoot him withering look. At least I hope it's withering.
“He's lactose intolerant. I told you that.”
“Hm,” he says, grunting. Of course Peter is unperturbed. There's the most awkward pause in the history of the universe which Mom finally breaks.
“Well, we're all ready, for dinner. Shall we?”