IF I WERE in my right mind, I’d be enjoying the hell out of this. I’d be giddy, winding through the gilded halls of a secret Victorian island mansion. I’d be marveling at the stone statues and curved wooden staircases, the high ceilings and golden frames. I’d be awed entering Seidon’s father’s double-oak-door office, with its floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and library ladder, its mahogany desk and rich red rugs. I’d even enjoy the gusts of ocean wind that currently tear across the island, making the house creak and groan like an ancient living creature.

But I am most definitely not in my right mind.

Logan’s words still ring in my ears, echoing inside my seized skull. Open relationship. We talked about how things might change going long distance, promised we’d make adjustments to stay together. I thought that meant figuring out the rhythms of how often to talk or visit each other. The idea of being with anyone else never entered the conversation.

Open relationship. The words don’t make any sense to me. All they conjure are questions, each one more painful than the last. Answering any of them feels like pulling at a loose thread that might unravel the fabric of my life.

So I don’t speak. I don’t let myself think. All I do is follow Seidon and dare not look in Logan’s direction.

“This office is even more unbelievable than the rest of the house,” Logan says.

On the surface this sounds like a compliment, but I know Logan—he believes inherited wealth is one of America’s greatest evils. Suddenly, intuiting this simple thing about Logan feels like a buoy in an ocean. It also hurts, because a new thought enters the equation: Do I really know Logan the way I think I do?

An entire chunk of myself drifts off at the thought, iceberg I’ve become.

“My dad is a psychologist,” Seidon explains. “He’s at his main office now, but he uses this space for recordkeeping and research.”

“Is his research on the tarot, too?” Logan asks, eyeing the stack of histories and texts on the enormous desk.

“Right now, yes,” Seidon answers. “He’s researching the historical link between the tarot and clinical psychology. It’s a bit of a challenge to my mom, if I’m honest. To get her to see the more practical side behind all of her mysticism. It can all be a bit… much, sometimes.

“Anyway, Dad says there’s so much to unpack there. A lot of the symbolism used in the tarot appears in the archetypes devised in Freudian and Jungian psychology, to access the unconscious. There are also parallels to Rorschach’s inkblot tests, which analyze what we see instead of what’s really there. Dad’s toying with titles like ‘Taropy’—he actually makes a pretty compelling argument that tarot card readers are really the world’s oldest therapists.”