Evangeline

My head's swimming.

My pulse pounds in my chest, my vision swims, and chills tease up my back. And it's not the alcohol, because it's been a whole day since I was up in Rowan's apartment.

I had all that last night, after fleeing his place like a complete psycho, and running - running all the way to his father's church, where I promptly drank a quarter of a pot of stale, cold coffee that was sitting in the pot while I made hymnal copies, because I'd remembered reading somewhere that coffee made you not drunk anymore.

I know now that's a lie. It doesn't make you sober, drinking coffee just makes you wired while still drunk.

Okay, so I wasn't drunk, but I was feeling something I'd never felt from the one beer I had before, or the plum wine I'd drank at dinner with my host family in Korea.

After the church, I'd run all the way home. I'd made up some excuse about feeling tired and sick as I'd brushed past my parents, and headed to bed.

Bed, where I'd promptly gone over the events of the night on repeat for the next eight hours since I couldn't sleep after the coffee.

I can't believe I did that.

I can't believe I did that.

I've said it about a million times since leaving his apartment, but it's still rattling around in my head. Ugh. I mean what did I think was going to happen with me going over to that man's place like that?

And drinking?

Well, the drinking was to get up the courage to ask him questions.

It's a lame excuse, and I know it. I know deep down, going over there and everything that happened after I stepped through the door is everything I wanted.

And it's a terrible thought, because it's true.

I can try and lie to myself on the outside, but deep down, I know the truth. Deep down, I know d.a.m.n well that I wanted Rowan to kiss me.

Lord what is happening to me?

Chast.i.ty's right. Maybe something is wrong with me since I got back. Maybe I caught something - a brain fungus or something that's making me do insane things.

Something that's making me forget who I am and who I'm supposed to be.

But at the current moment, I have to push those thoughts aside. Because at the moment, I'm about to step through the front door of Jacob and Irene Hammond's house to have dinner.

All of us.

My entire family, Chast.i.ty, his entire family.

And him.

I've got wicked, sinful, and confusing thoughts and the memory of that kiss still burning through my head, and I'm about to sit down for a dinner with him and everyone we know.

Wonderful.

I take a shaky breath as my father raises a hand to knock.

"Eva?"

I glance over at my mom.

"The ca.s.serole?"

"Right, sorry." I turn and skip down the porch steps back to the car to get the food she insisted on making and bringing.

"It's the least we can do, they're putting us up."

I turn and head back to the door, hanging back as my father knocks.

The door swings open.

"Hi!"

She's gorgeous, and young - my age, maybe. But the most immediate thing I notice is that she looks exactly like Rowan.

"Hi, Sierra," she says warmly, extending a hand. "Rowan and Ivy's sister. Well, one of them."

"Pleasure." My father stiffly takes her hand. My mother only nods and smiles her weird, pinched smile at her.

"Come on in!"

We crowd through the doorway, and she spots the Pyrex dish in my hand. "Oh, I can grab that for you."

"Hi, Eva."

She smiles as I pa.s.s her the dish. "Sierra, nice to meet you!"

She smiles warmly again as she looks over her shoulder. "Dad! They're here!"

Jacob and Irene step from the kitchen, both of them beaming and covered in flour, looking adorable.

"Hey, there they are!" Jacob grins. "Irene's got me helping with the quiche. I'm mostly just making a mess though." He chuckles. "Here, come on in."

The only time we've ever had guests at my parents' house is Bible study. Well, and my mother's very short-lived stint as a makeup salesperson before my father put a stop to that.

"Can I get you guys a drink?"

I can see my father bristle at Sierra's question. "No, thank you."

"No," Chast.i.ty says quickly, her voice sharp.

Sierra nods. "Okay, cool."

"Hey Eva!"

Ivy, Rowan's blonde sister from our last dinner here, pokes her head around the corner and smiles when she sees us. "You met another Hammond, I see."

Silas, her husband with the dark hair and the piercing dark eyes, follows her out from the living room. He grins. "I'd say you've met them all now, but, alas, there's always more Hammonds."

Ivy grins and rolls her eyes. "Two more, actually."

I laugh. "Big family!"

"Tell me about it," Silas grins. "There's freaking five of them."

Sierra laughs. "Don't worry, you won't get the full hurricane tonight. Stella's got a parent-teacher thing with Carter - oh, that's her son. And Kyle's still in New York with work." She frowns. "And honestly, I have no idea if Rowan's even showing up. He's the worst with texts or email chains."

Suddenly, it's like a weight lifted from my shoulders.

He's not even coming tonight.

I silently offer up a little prayer.

Thank G.o.d.

And I actually feel lighter - better, more free. I feel like this won't be the most horrible, embarra.s.sing dinner ever.

"Let's sit, shall we?'

We all follow Jacob into the dining room and take seats around the big wooden table. Irene and Silas come out of the kitchen carrying a few last dishes and place them down before taking their own seats.

Still no Rowan.

Thank you, G.o.d.

"Leonard, would you like to say grace?"

My father nods. "Thank you, Jacob." He clears his throat, and I mentally prepare myself for the type of heavy-handed "Lord smite the sinners" type grace I'm fairly certain most of the people at this table are in no way expecting.

"Blessed Lord, we thank you for-"

His words are cut short by the roaring sound of an engine in the driveway - a loud, rumbling, rude, belching sound.

I look up quickly, seeing Jacob frown.

"Great timing, Row," Sierra mumbles under her breath.

My father keeps right on talking, saying something about the searing fires of Purgatory, but I'm not even listening anymore.

No no no! He's not supposed to be here!

The engine shuts off, and as I hear boots clumping up the front porch stairs, my shoulders slump.

So much for that idea.

The front door bursts open, and Rowan comes flying in, some sort of white box tied up with string in his hands.

"Hey! Sorry I'm late, I just-"

My father finally stops, his eyes narrowing at the interruption.

"Oh, oops." Rowan makes a face, realizing what he's just crashing into.

"We were in the middle of grace, Rowan," his father says quietly. "Just take a seat."

"Sure, Pop. Sorry," he winces as he dramatically tiptoes to the table.

I grin before I can stop myself, shaking my head and turning, only to see Chast.i.ty scowling.

I quickly make a move to follow suit.

And of course - of course - the only empty seat is next to mine. Because I'm being punished for my wickedness, that's why. Because I'm on the road to h.e.l.l for even thinking of this man, let alone doing the things I've been doing with him.

"Evening," he murmurs in my ear as he slides into his chair. I ignore him as my father finishes his lengthy grace.

"Amen," Jacob finally murmurs as my father ends with a plea to G.o.d to show no mercy to his enemies. Jacob clears his throat awkwardly. "Thank you, Leonard. Ivy, honey, pa.s.s the-"

"We do not interrupt grace in my house."

The table goes quiet as we turn to my father.

Oh, G.o.d, here this goes.

"Apologies, Leonard, I just promised my mom I'd snag cannoli's at Mizetti's before I-"

"Wouldn't stand in my house, son, that's all I'm saying."

Rowan raises a brow, blowing air through his lips. "Right. Well, sorry." He glances at his father who's frowning, but gives him a nod.

"I think we'll forgive him this once," Jacob says with a laugh, clearly trying to lighten the mood. "Mizetti's cannoli's go a long way in terms of forgiveness," he adds with a chuckle. "Pa.s.s the salad please, Ivy?"

My father glares at Rowan, clearly not done, but ready to let it go for now.

The sounds of dinner and eating and forks across plates fills the warm, homey dining room. And I'm trying to laugh at the right parts. I'm trying to smile when Silas makes a joke about work, or nod interestedly when Sierra talks about the Master's program she's doing at UMa.s.s.

But I'm having a hard time with all of it, and it's got everything to do with the man sitting next to me.

You now, the man I kissed last night, like a total crazy person.

Or maybe because I was slightly drunk.