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“It won’t fly no matter what you tell us.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “I told you I’ve taken precautions. Yasha said he could figure out security in addition to what Rooster has planned. That place is going to be covered, and I won’t take my eyes off of her all night.”
Cora raises her hand. “Hey, hi, hello. Still no clue what you’re talking about over here.”
“Oh, right. Sorry. I’m planning a…” Anya slaps her own thighs in a sloppy drum roll. “Bachelorette party!”
The silence is weighted, expectant. Anya was clearly anticipating more of an enthused response from us.
“Come on!” she urges. “It will be fun. We’ll get ready at my house, have dinner, and then go straight to the club—which will be surrounded by security. Only family and friends allowed inside. It will be perfectly safe.”
Cora sighs. “But we aren’t even getting married.”
“Right, but people are supposed to think that you are.” Anya snaps her fingers. “We’re maintaining a ruse here, leading people astray. Keep up.”
“Who would I even invite? I don’t have any friends here.”
Anya jerks back like she was physically slapped. “First of all, how dare you.”
“I didn’t mean you!” Cora insists in horror.
Anya waves her away, already smiling. “Forgiven, but not forgotten. Second of all, I’m inviting Francia and Jorden. Those gals need to get out of the house, too. They haven’t been nearly as…occupied…as you have been.”
“They also haven’t had a close brush with murder,” I remind her. “Cora hasn’t been on some vacation. If they’re complaining, then they’re ungrateful.”
“I haven’t spoken to either of them in a while,” Cora says softly. “I…forgot about them, honestly. God, I’m a shitty friend.”
“You’ve been preoccupied,” I growl.
“And now, you’re not preoccupied,” Anya bursts in. “You have nothing but time, and I think we should make the most of your continued survival and celebrate a little bit.”
Cora is chewing on her lower lip. I know she’s only mulling it over because she feels bad about ditching Francia and Jorden. And she’s probably worried about not considering Anya a friend, even though my sister is made of much tougher stuff than that. Still, Cora would literally throw herself on a sword for the people in her life.
It’s an admirable quality—even if it makes me want to encircle her in plastic wrap and shove her in a padded room.
She leans in close to me. My body presses back into her on sheer instinct. “Will you come with me?” she whispers.
Before I can even open my mouth, Anya chimes in. “Nuh-uh. No soon-to-be-but-not-really husbands allowed. It’s a bachelorette party. There will be debauchery he should not see. Penis-shaped gummies and such.”
“I’ve seen worse,” I drawl.
Anya sighs. “But how is Cora supposed to flirt with guys and dance with strippers and get free drinks if you’re too busy throwing her over your shoulder like a caveman?”
“No cavemen and no debauchery.” Cora jabs a warning finger in my sister’s direction. “If an unclothed man comes anywhere near me, I’ll punch him in the balls. I mean it.”
“No strippers? Really?” Anya pouts. “Lame.”
There’s a rather large part of me that wants to shove my sister out of the room, lock the door, and stay in here with Cora for the rest of forever. Life would be a lot simpler if nothing beyond this mattered.
But too much shit matters for me to do that. I can’t be distracted, but the longer we spend in here, the more at risk I am of losing focus in a way I may never be able to gain back.
It’s long past time to cut the cord.
62
IVAN
I need more than a shower to wash Cora off of me.
