Hearing that stuff only made the voices in my head louder. I never told Conor, but he had an instinct when it came to me. He knew that all I wanted was to not be alone. So he listened, and only once, late at night, a few weeks before putting an end to the calls, he said: “I wish I could bear this for you, Maya.” I believed him.

Because I’m a fucking idiot.

“It looks even better here than from home,” I say, blinking up at its bright, rusty color.

“I’m glad.”

Kaede gasps, delighted to hear Conor’s voice. Waddles our way as fireflies blink intermittently around her. Opens her little fist in his direction.

“Soil,” he says with a nod. “Of course.”

She blinks, owlish. Thrusts her chubby fingers at him.

“No,” he says flatly. “I’m not going to accept gifts of soil, dead plant matter, or rocks. I will not pretend to eat them. We have been over this multiple times, Kaede.”

Her round face splits in a toothy, charmed smile. No baby talk from Conor. Just straight-faced, adult interactions. He might respect her more than he does me.

Childish brat still rings in my ears.

“Is it painful?” I ask impulsively. Vengefully, too.

“Is what?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Kaede, I guess.”

“Ah.” He shakes his head. “No. It’s not. Why would it be?”

“If you and Minami had stayed together, then Kaede would be yours.”

He smiles. “That’s not how meiosis works. You should have figured it out, since you’re the smartest person I know.”

I huff out a laugh. “I can’t be. It’s been years, and I still haven’t managed to figure you out.”

“That’s because there’s nothing to figure out, Maya.”

“Agree to disagree. I would love to know how you can go from being the most thoughtful person I’ve ever met to a raging asshole in no time. I would love to understand whether you’re pretending not to care now, or pretended to care for three years. Above all, and this might sound shallow, I’d love to know what the hell is going on here.” A confused silence. I feel his stare, and continue, “Why does nearly every woman in this house seem to have some kind of connection with you? There’s Minami, the historic ex. Avery, the other ex. Tamryn, the mysterious new entry. And then me, of course, the—”

“Don’t,” he says. So sharp that my eyes let go of Antares to find his. “Don’t put yourself in the same category as Minami, or Avery, or Tamryn. You do not belong there.”

It’s the verbal equivalent of a slap in the face. A deliberate one, I suspect. A few short years ago, the cruelty of his words would have sent me down a spiral of self-loathing and inadequacy. But I’ve been in therapy for too long to allow Conor Harkness, or anyone else, to make me feel inferior.

He doesn’t deserve my emotional turmoil, or my time.

I stand from the bench. At the table, Axel is brandishing a half-empty bottle of an orange liquor that looks exactly like what I need right now. Lucrezia shakes her head, scowls, and he laughs.