Chapter Thirteen
Dulce
Back to One – Brian McKnight
“I quit.”
My two words an hour later stun Paloma speechless when I walk into her office at the Love Hub. Her mouth drops open, but it’s more than in shock. It’s almost comical. I didn’t think I would lead with this. I actually mentally planned to coax her into it, like give her sweets and call her pretty. Lessen the blow a little. Unfortunately, that isn’t how the words came spilling out.
“You quit?” Paloma repeats slowly, staring at me like I’ve grown ten heads and arms to follow. Her quirked eyebrow would be hilarious, if not for the fear that lances through me.
This is unprecedented. Cupids don’t quit. I’ve never done this before—chosen myself. I’m not used to having that look directed at me. Usually, it was one of my siblings. More than likely Xó or Val. They’re the sporadic ones. They don’t habitually follow rules like me.
I’m the rule follower.
The one who gets gold stars and awards.
Right now, the disappointment on Loma’s face tells me that’s not how she feels. Her lips purse as if to argue my decision to quit, but something there also doesn’t want to poke at me. Like by disagreeing, it’ll somehow make me quit twice.
That’s not how it works.
After all, I’m an Amor. The longest living lineage of Cupids. We’re the creators of love. Our name means love in our mother tongue. Unfortunately, that also means that I get in far more trouble for the simplest things. We’re held to a gold standard, a pedestal to match our ancestry.
It’s unfair.
It also didn’t help that Di got herself and I the reputation of evil twins. They called us menaces, because all we do is cause mayhem within the human realm. It frustrated me to no end to only be Di’s sister. I’m more than that. Not just the other piece of my sister, but me. Someone who has wants and desires that are often overlooked.
“Just for the summer,” I quickly add, wanting something to come back to. It’s not forever, right? “I want to live life, even for just a few months.”
She scrunches her face and nods animatedly. Like she’s saying, uh huh, sure. “Just for the summer?”
“Yes, the entire summer,” I confirm, holding my ground while ignoring the expression she offers me. Her eyes roam down my body, almost like she is memorizing this moment, like it’s pivotal somehow, historic or something.
“Okay.”
The single word shocks me. It isn’t a reprimand or an angry, hostile response. Cupids don’t quit. Hades, I was never hired. We just grew up and all became what we are.
“I can do that?” The words tumble out of me in exasperation. We are taught from the littlest ages that our only duty is to others. Humans and monsters alike.
Finding their love.
Giving them their happiness.
Offering them what we’ll never experience.
“I don’t see why not,” she mutters with annoyance and an eye roll. What is happening?
“Please make this make sense,” I prod. “We aren’t even hired. How the hell am I allowed to just walk away?”
“Are you trying to convince me to let you go or are you arguing because you want to stay? I’m extremely confused right now.”
“I—” I pause, folding my arms over my chest. “I don’t know! I want to not be a Cupid for a while.”
“Okay.”
That stupid word again. Why is she not arguing? Where’s the anger and disappointment? She derisively laughs as if she can hear my mental voice. “To answer your question from before, yes, I accept your termination. Secondly, you’re not the first person to ever walk away from this life—”
“Excuse me?” I recoil, thinking of how I’ve never once heard of someone leaving. Her eyes connect with mine, annoyance and heated fury beneath the glow of her irises.
“Stop interrupting like a child, Dulce.” I bite my tongue and nod at her, waiting for the heat to simmer in her expression. “As I was saying. You’re not the first, you won’t be the last, and you’ll be back.”
My heart tells me she’s wrong.
My soul screams that she’s right and I can’t choose myself.
“What does that even mean?”
“Means that everyone who leaves finds their way back. It’s a human notion, the giving up and running from problems. As Cupids, we experience their emotions tenfold, we dive into their existence and end up presenting like they do. So, you’ll be back. When you come back, we’ll chat again. See what little life you experienced.”
“What about my charges?” I question, thinking of all the people who depend on my touch for their success with love. Am I failing them by leaving?
She raises another brow, grabbing her magical clipboard, writing whatever she planned on writing before sighing. “That’s no longer your problem. Just remember, once you walk out of those doors, you’ll no longer have access to the Cupid Travel System and you’ll be unable to teleport.”
“Then how am I supposed to come back?”
She lets out an unamused chuckle. “You and I both know the answer to this. We went to the academy together, Dulce. You’re going to tell me you don’t know the falling protocol?”
“My parents.” I nearly choke on my answer. She nods once, stiffly, unfazed.
“They’ll be notified of your choice to abandon your post, and they won’t be happy. You’ll be the first Amor to ever walk away.”
I swallow harshly, wondering if this is truly what I want or if leaving is the biggest mistake of my life.
“What if I don’t come back?” I dare ask before standing. Her face twists in a knowing smirk. She sidesteps the desk, leaning in front of it.
Her hair is in two high space buns, green with little purple star barrettes. Amusement glows in her eyes. “If you somehow decide that being who you were born to be isn’t what you want, you’ll eventually lose your connection to the Love Hub. That call to help others find love, it’ll disappear. You’ll eventually lose your magic too.”
I gulp, my throat suddenly feeling like it’s swollen. “I want to find love.”
Paloma crosses her arms. “First your sister, then your brother, and now you. Maybe the Amors aren’t meant to be Cupids. I’ve heard that some Cupids don’t succeed their ancestors and all fall, but I didn’t think it’d be your lineage.”
“Or maybe it’s Cupids who have it wrong?” I parry, thinking of my heart. Why do we not get love? Vex and I could make something of our lives. Maybe we’re meant to be, and Cupids just don’t realize the Fates helps us too.
“The rules are there for a reason,” she tacks on while tapping her arm.
Rubbing my forehead, I let out an overwhelmed exhale. “Maybe the rules need to be broken and changed.”
“Love isn’t for us. It’s simple.”
Vex will argue that, right? They felt it too at the club when we shared our bodies with each other, right? There’s something there. Not just the bond we’ve just fostered, but more. We’re a part of each other, tethered. The draw to them isn’t a one-off and quick decision.
My chest aches with the acknowledgment that Loma could be right. Why did these rules exist, and why can no one give me a point blank answer?
I push the chair I’d been sitting in back, the sound of it scraping the floor the only sound filling the silence. “It was nice...” I begin and then shake my head. “See you around, Loma.”
She doesn’t say a word as I wordlessly walk to my old desk. It’s pretty vacant. No pictures, no cute fixtures, or any type of items that would define this space as mine. Just my coat, my coffee mug that Xó got me, and what’s left of my sanity.
Ten feet away, my twin stands. Her mauve gaze is one that dissects me, as if she knows my thoughts better than I do.
“What’s going on? Didn’t your shift just start?” Her eyes scan the room, stopping at Xóchi’s empty desk. Almost as if it clicks, accusation meets me. “Not you too.”
The words are a knife, slicing through me with intent. I bite my lip, not wanting to say what’s needed, because she would never understand.
We are twins, but unlike what others thought, we’re far from the same person. “Di,” I start, feeling the moisture of my palms as they sweat.
“You can’t leave me.” While her face seems stoic and composed, her words are sewn together with such sadness. We never did anything separate. Hades, we’ve even fucked the same people when hooking up in the past. We’ve dated the same people in the past too, but Vex being with my sister will never happen. The thought of it makes me physically ill.
Once upon a time, we threw ourselves into that concept that twins do everything together, and for once, I want that notion gone.
“I’m not leaving you, Di. You’re my sister. My twin,” I enunciate the last bit, knowing she’s going to take this to heart.
She shakes her head, gripping her chest as if her heart aches. “We are different to them. You and I are the same.”
“We’re not,” I disagree. “I just always wanted to make you happy.”
Her eyes widen as a glassiness overcomes them. The tears she refuses to let free brim and sit like two little puddles in her eyes. “Love isn’t real, Dulce.”
Even her words seem fake, like she doesn’t believe it herself. “It is,” I negate. “They just don’t want us to have it. We are meant to love. We’re capable of it.”
“It’s a fluke,” she doubles down, her face softening with her lies. We’ve been told for so long that we’ve ingrained it, attached to this falsehood, knowing that maybe this isn’t what was supposed to be.
“Are you telling me our siblings didn’t find their soul mates?” As if her mind travels to that exact thing, the tears finally fall, slipping down her cheeks. Understanding reflects there, but there’s also that bitterness she’s always held. It exists there, a story I don’t even know. “You can’t tell me what they have isn’t real. They are obsessed with their partners. The way they look at one another should be enough to convince you that love is very real.”
“Don’t go,” she attempts once more, not arguing my points. Her hands twist in front of her, the anxious energy she’s experiencing one I haven’t seen from her since we were kids.
“I’m always here.” Stepping closer to her, I tap her chest where her heart beats. “We’re sisters, Di. Twins. We always have us. I just know being a Cupid, if that means we can’t have love, isn’t what I want right now.”
“We always want the same things.” She maintains her belief as if she’s trying to compound our sisterhood with something as simple as my need to please.
“Not this time.”
Our gazes meet once more and I bring her close for a hug. We don’t do this. Affection isn’t something we’ve shown, even when we’re joined at the hip. Her arms are stiff at her side, not welcoming the gesture.
Without another word, I kiss her forehead and walk away, knowing I’ve just done something entirely out of the norm for me.
I chose me.