Threads That Bind Us (Syndicate of Fate Book 1)

26. Charlie

“So, why’s she pissed at you?”

If I wasn’t the only other person in the room, I wouldn’t know Ana was talking to me. She has one earbud still in, and her eyes are glued to her laptop screen, refreshing her browser again and again. SAT results are supposed to come in tonight.

“Who’s pissed at me?” I ask, trying to remain casual.

Gwen and I have been painfully business-like in private since Italy—partners, not friends, no benefits—but I thought we’d done a pretty good job keeping up appearances in front of Ana. Judging by the way she’s raising her eyebrows at me over her computer, I guess not.

“I’m not oblivious,” she mutters.

I rinse the dish in my hands and watch Gwen out the kitchen window, pacing back and forth on the back patio while talking on the phone. If she feels my eyes on her, she doesn’t react.

It’s not my place to tell Ana if Gwen hasn’t said anything to her. Still, I won’t outright lie to the kid.

“I handled a situation poorly in Italy,” I say, abandoning the sink and joining Ana at the table.

She barely looks at me, just keeps clicking her trackpad on a regular rhythm.

“With your family?”

We’d told her as much as we reasonably could before we left—my mom had been sick, she was getting better, and I wanted to introduce Gwen to them.

“Yeah, with my family.”

Although that’s not really true. Aside from Clara’s absolutely repellant behavior, which she and Gwen seem to have overcome, there were no sticking points with anyone but me.

“If it helps, I’m pretty sure Gwen would handle the situation pretty poorly if you met our mom, too,” she says, a smile pulling at the corner of her lips. “Actually, that image is pretty funny.”

I can’t imagine Gwen interacting with Isabelle. There’s so much pain between the two of them.

“True, but this one was all on me, not my family. She deserves to be pissed.”

I didn’t hide the council vote from her out of malice, but I still should have told her. Even with Clara’s threat, I couldn’t imagine a scenario where Gwen didn’t become my wife. But she proved to me every day that I could trust her with everything, and I didn’t meet my end of the bargain.

Ana clicks the refresh button repeatedly, breathing through her nose deeply like it’s calming her. Which it clearly isn’t.

“Did you lie to her?” she asks. She’s still not looking at me, but I can feel the accusation in her tone all the same.

“Not exactly, but I kind of blindsided her with some information.”

“Same thing,” Ana mutters, and I involuntarily scoff, which definitely gets her attention. “Look, Gwen assumes the worst in everyone, except for maybe me and Kenzie. She especially assumes people won’t keep their word. She’s an actions speak louder girl.”

“So you recommend a grand gesture?”

I had been considering it, but was unsure of the execution. How do you show someone they are your entire world? How do you convince them there’s nothing that could stand between the two of you?

“Less grand gesture, more put your money where your mouth is,” she replies, typing on her phone at lightning speed and turning back to her computer. “Not actual money. It’s an idiom or whatever.”

“An idiom or whatever? Please tell me that’s not how you responded on the SAT,” I tease.

Ana just rolls her eyes. It’s becoming a habit.

“That’s a joke only an old person would make, you know that?” Before I even have a chance to argue, she shoots up from her chair. “Oh my god, they’re here.”

“Your scores are in?” I ask, but she’s not listening to me.

“What the hell? I need a password to access my scores? I have a password?” She starts frantically scrolling through her phone, and I stand up from the table.

“I’ll get Gwen,” I say, patting her on the shoulder as I pass.

“Okay, yeah, ask if she knows what my password is,” she mumbles, moving back and forth between her screens like the scores are going to disappear if she doesn”t find her password quick enough.

I open the door and lean against the frame, watching Gwen stare at her dark phone. It’s dark, and the light from the windows is the only thing illuminating her. She reminds me of how she looked in that alley, almost a year ago now.

Put my money where my mouth is. Maybe that’s not such a bad idea.

“Hey, Ana’s scores are in,” I say. I wish I could touch her. Pull her into my arms and kiss the space under the corner of her jaw, where I can feel her pulse against my lips.

“Okay,” she whispers, her arms still tight around her. “That was Ana’s oncologist. She wants us to come in next week to discuss the results.”

“Is she okay?” I ask as I step out into the night with her and shut the door, glancing behind me to make sure Ana’s still distracted by finding her password. It feels like time has stopped. Ana’s got an entire future ahead of her, and it rests on this moment in the darkness.

When Gwen turns to me, tears are cutting paths down her cheeks, but the relief is so clear in her features that the clock starts moving again.

“She said it’s good news. She said not to worry.”

I don’t even think before I step forward and wrap my arms around her. She doesn’t hold me, but she doesn’t push me away either. She just lets herself cry, the falling tears seeming to ease the tension in her body until she’s leaning into me, letting me hold her together.

“It’s over, Gwen,” I say into her hair, trying to give her everything without demanding a thing in return. My support, my heart. “You did it. She did it.”

She nods against me, dragging in harsh breaths like the relief is pulling her underwater.

“I know,” she chokes out, her voice cracking and tight. “I’m just…”

She can’t seem to finish, and I don’t need her to explain. Ana’s not my sister or my kid, but even I’m overwhelmed. I rub my palm in circles on her back, listening to her calm her breathing. I feel her wipe away her tears with her sleeve before she pushes against my chest.

It’s excruciating, letting her go, knowing she wants me to. But I broke her trust, and now I know how to earn it back. To show her I meant every word in Trani.

“Her scores are in?” Gwen asks, hiccuping on the last word.

She wipes the tears from her cheeks and the mascara from under her eyes. My whole body itches to help, to comfort her, but I slip my hands into my pockets instead.

“She can’t find her password to the website, but she got the email,” I say, and Gwen laughs and she rolls her eyes.

“That’s because she had them email me the password so she wouldn’t lose it,” she mutters, swiping up on her phone and searching through her email.

When she looks back up at me, she’s built that beautiful, strong wall around herself again, and I don’t think Ana will even know she’s been crying.

“Thank you,” she says as she walks past me toward the house. “For being there for both of us.”

It takes me a few moments, listening to Gwen read the email to her sister, before I can steady myself the way she did and walk back into our home.