Chapter 52
Piper
I sit on the sofa with a book in my lap and a blanket over my legs. The television is on, though I pay little attention to it. A cup of tea warms my hands, steam rises from the mug as I take slow, absent minded sips.
Everything feels... calm. Dare I say it, peaceful.
So when a knock sounds at my door, it catches me so completely off guard that I flinch and nearly spill tea all over myself.
I set my mug on the coffee table, mark my page, and get to my feet before making my way to the door.
When I open it, Adelaide stands on the other side, looking impatient.
“Why aren’t you packing?” she asks as she walks straight past me and into the room.
I blink, closing the door behind her.
“Packing?” I repeat, momentarily confused.
She turns, and a few of her wild jet black curls fall into her face. She tucks them behind her ear.
“For our annual Thanksgiving trip,” she says.
It takes me a moment, but then it clicks.
The trip.
We go every year, yet this time it hadn’t even crossed my mind.
“I didn’t think we were going,” I admit.
Adelaide gives me a long look before rolling her eyes.
“Well, we are. Unless you’d rather explain to our parents why we suddenly decided to break a tradition we’ve followed for years.”
Yeah, no thank you.
The less contact I have with my father, the better, so calling him to explain why I decided to skip the trip isn’t exactly appealing.
But something about it feels wrong.
Because Eleanor is missing this year.
And without her, everything feels slightly off.
It’s late November, and none of us have heard from her in months.
Not since the end of summer.
Then there’s Adelaide and Octavia, who can barely spend ten minutes in the same room without trying to tear each other’s heads off.
So forgive me if I’m struggling to see how any of this is supposed to be a good idea.
But she’s also right.
Our parents have insisted on this trip every year for as long as I can remember, and none of us have ever had much say in the matter.
They chose Thanksgiving for it. Christmas is reserved for family, and apparently this is their compromise.
Not that everyone involved actually celebrates it.
The Bellanti sisters are Italian. Adelaide doesn’t celebrate it either.
In truth, it’s only my family and Eleanor’s.
Our parents have been tied together by business and mutual interests for years, and somewhere along the way the trip became tradition. Knowing them, there’s probably a reason for it beyond family bonding.
“Come on,” Adelaide says as she turns back towards the door, effectively dragging me out of my thoughts. “Let’s go find the others.”
I follow her into the corridor, my thoughts still a mess.
We reach Ophelia’s dorm just as Octavia disappears inside. Before the door has a chance to close, Adelaide shoves it back open and walks straight in.
“What the hell—” I hear Ophelia say.
I step in behind Adelaide and follow her towards the sitting area. Ophelia closes the door and joins us a moment later.
Octavia stands at one end of the room, her arms folded tightly over her chest, her attention fixed entirely on Adelaide.
Adelaide, meanwhile, drops into the nearest armchair and crosses one leg over the other.
“What are you doing here?” Octavia asks, her tone clipped.
Adelaide’s expression doesn’t waver.
“Good to see you too.”
“I didn’t ask for your sarcasm,” Octavia shoots back. “I asked why the hell you’re in my sister’s room.”
“I wasn’t aware you were her keeper,” Adelaide replies coolly. “Or is this another one of your delusional control issues?”
Octavia lets out a dark, humourless laugh.
“Oh, you want to talk about control? Let me warn you, mine might just snap… say, right about now, and I’ll be more than happy to rearrange that hair of yours.”
Adelaide merely watches her.
“Ah, but since we’re all here,” Octavia continues, glancing around the room. “Well, everyone except Eleanor.”
At the mention of Eleanor’s name, I see a brief crack in Adelaide’s composure.
“Let’s talk about what you did to us,” Octavia presses. “How you threw everything away like it meant nothing. How you used us-”
“You never did understand the difference between strategy and betrayal.” Adelaide leans back in her chair.
“And you never understood the difference between loyalty and selfishness,” Octavia fires back.
“Octavia, stop,” Ophelia says as she places a hand on her sister’s arm.
I stop paying attention somewhere in the middle of their argument.
I drop onto the sofa and pull out my phone, though I don’t actually look at it. Their voices fade into the background as my mind wanders elsewhere.
To somewhere it has absolutely no business wandering.
To my professor.
Adelaide suddenly gets to her feet after she and Octavia reach some form of truce for the trip, and the movement pulls me out of my head.
“We’re leaving tomorrow morning. My jet’s prepared, be downstairs at seven sharp.”
She heads for the door, then pauses, looking back, a sardonic smile on her face.
“Let’s try not to kill each other over the holiday. I’d cancel if I could, but imagine explaining that to our families. So, pretend, coexist, and when we return, you can let it all burn again.”
The door shuts behind her and silence envelops us.
Octavia exhales. “I can’t believe the nerve of that—”
“Octavia,” Ophelia interrupts gently. “Don’t.”
I glance between them before speaking quietly.
“Have either of you heard anything about Eleanor?”
They both go still.
“No,” Ophelia says softly. “It’s like she just… vanished.”
“She’s done that before,” Octavia adds, though her tone is less certain now. “Disappearing for weeks, sometimes longer. It’s not exactly new.”
She’s right.
Eleanor has always been like that, coming and going as she pleases, slipping in and out of our lives.
But this time feels different.
Maybe there’s more to it than any of us realised.
Or maybe we’re simply terrible friends.
Because not one of us ever stopped to wonder where she goes when she disappears like this, or what she does during the months she’s gone.
We’re all so wrapped up in our own lives that we never ask.
We call ourselves friends. The truth is, we know very little about one another. At least not the parts that matter.
I nod slowly. “Let me know if you hear anything.”
I push myself to my feet, turning towards the door.
“Piper.”
Octavia’s voice stops me.
I turn back.
Her expression changes, a hint of amusement appears in her eyes.
“You and professor Wardgrave,” she says lightly, arching her brows. “Care to explain that?”
Ophelia gives her sister a look, though she’s clearly trying not to smile.
But inside, I feel as though I might actually die.
And I’m not exaggerating.
My heart pounds so hard I’m convinced everyone in the room can hear it.
Of course they noticed.
And if they noticed, then chances are others have as well.
I’ve been lying to myself if I thought otherwise.
I keep my expression neutral.
“There’s nothing to explain,” I say evenly. “He’s my professor. That’s all.”
Octavia laughs.
“Right. And I’ve never slept with a professor in my life.”
“You haven’t,” Ophelia points out.
“Exactly. I think I’m missing out. You too, sis.” She looks at me. “Go on, Piper. Do it for the rest of us.”
Ophelia laughs.
I manage a smile, though it’s forced.
“We’re not together,” I say. “We’re... nothing.”
The word leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
Before either of them can respond, I turn and head for the door. I close it behind me and keep walking.