Chapter 22: Peace Offering

Odessa's Pov

My mother is at my door the next morning, her knocks sharp and insistent, rattling the frame like she's been holding back her fury since yesterday. She's furious about what happened with Damien, his break-in, his audacity, his refusal to accept that we're done. She's decided she needs to drive me back home herself for the gala tomorrow, and there's no arguing with her when she gets like this.

I'm so angry myself that I've discarded any form of worry about what my grandfather would say or think. Let him be mad. Let him throw his tantrums. I'm done tiptoeing around his feelings.

We finish breakfast in near silence, the clinking of forks against plates the only sound in the room. I'm not hungry but I eat anyway, forcing down each bite because I know I'll need the energy. Afterward, I settle at the vanity to start getting ready, my brushes and palettes spread out in front of me, when there's a knock on the door.

I turn to look at my alarm clock on the desk. It's 9:30am. I'm not expecting anyone. No deliveries scheduled, no appointments, no friends who would show up unannounced.

It's probably Damien again.

My mom is apprehensive as she walks towards the door, her heels clicking against the floor in a rhythm that sounds like preparation for confrontation. She squares her shoulders, lifts her chin, and pulls the door open wide.

But we don't see a face when the door opens.

My jaw practically drops from what I see at the doorframe. An enormous bouquet of tulips, so large that it blocks the entire view of the hallway, so dense that I can't see the person holding them. Purple and white and soft pink blooms packed together in a cascade of green and color.

"Odessa?" My mom gasps, equally shocked, her hands flying to her chest.

The delivery guy clears his throat, pushing the bouquet to the side just enough to peek at my mother. "Delivery for Odessa Montgomery."

I rise from the vanity, my brush still in my hand, as my mom signs the delivery form with a shaky signature. She struggles with lifting the arrangement inside, her arms barely able to wrap around the base, and I hurry over to help her.

I sure hope it isn't from Damien. I'd burn him in it. I'd set the whole thing on fire and watch the ashes float away.

The only person that could send me flowers right now is currently unavailable, offline, still angry at me for joining the show. Nick hasn't responded to any of my messages since yesterday.

Mom sets the bouquet on my desk, the numerous petals of lavender tulips covering the entire surface as the scent floods through the room, sweet and calming and completely at odds with the chaos in my chest.

"That is a lot of flowers." Mom heaves, catching her breath as she searches through the leaves for the card. She finds it tucked near the center, a small cream envelope, and pulls it out. She skims through it, her eyebrows rising, then sighs. "Wow. Nikolai De Luca."

"What?" I drag the card from her fingers, reading through the words as I can barely even breathe again.

I know this doesn't count as anything compared to what I've put you through, but this is probably the first peace offering as your thesis partner. I'm sorry for making you cry all these years and tormenting you. I have no excuse, Tesoro. See you at the gala. — Nikolai De Luca

He apologized. He actually apologized.

"I didn't know you liked your men with a little rough edge." Mom purrs, a teasing smile spreading across her face.

"Mom." I squeal, a pink blush creeping up my cheeks, hot and embarrassing.

"What?" She shrugs, completely unrepentant. "I saw him at Yellow Leaves. Pretty much grown from the Nikolai I used to know."

I stare at the card again, reading the words over and over, trying to find the lie in them. But there isn't one. Just an apology. Just a peace offering. Just a boy who finally said he was sorry.

My mom called people over the second we got home, actual professionals with gloves and preservation kits, to help me package and preserve the flowers. She took about forty photos of them first, circling the bouquet from every angle like it's a treasured moment, like something worth remembering.

"If only he was going on the show with you," she sighs, watching the preservationists carefully wrap each stem.

"Mom, stop." I sink into the back seat, throwing an arm over my eyes. "I'm already partnering with Rowan. And you do realize that he used to be my bully, right? The guy who pulled my hair and knocked my books out of my hands?"

"He's already apologized." She waves her hand dismissively. "And as one of the tenets that the moon goddess would preach, it is important to forgive."

I lift my arm to stare at her. "You said that she's a bitch."

"I still do think she is." Mom nods seriously. "But like, in a good way. Please don't make me blaspheme while we're driving. Don't want her to strike us with leprosy."

The driver giggles from the front seat as he makes a turn, his shoulders shaking.

Mom turns back to me, her expression softening. "Look, Rowan is great. Awesome. Likewise Hades. And I'd be dead before I decide for you. But today has been the happiest I've seen you in a long time, you know that?"

She holds my hand gently, her thumb rubbing circles on my knuckles.

She's oddly right. I feel lighter, like something heavy has been lifted off my chest, and I can't stop my lips from smiling every time I think about that card. I think it's just relief that he's not going to keep bullying me anymore. That's all it is.

"He's just... too dangerous." I chew on my bottom lip. "He's always been. It's scary that he is. I'm not like that."

"You did say that crazy is living." Mom raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I know, but this is different." I sit up straighter. "And besides, I'm getting into a dating show. He doesn't seem to like that."

"The idea of Moonlit Bonds aside," Mom shifts in her seat to face me fully, "throwing the bird at the moon goddess was always meant to be unconventional. You're not going to win by playing it safe. You played it safe with Damien. With choosing. With being who you think your grandfather would want you to be. It bled into everything, even the kind of man you want for yourself." She pauses, letting the words sink in. "Rowan or not, just make sure you're actually choosing what's best for you, Odessa. I'm not saying that you like them all of a sudden, but you can't underestimate the power of proximity."

I don't even have a comeback. I just nod, thanking her for the advice under my breath.

I don't think I'm going to give love a chance again after what happened with Damien. That part of me feels dead, buried somewhere in the wreckage of my first life. For now, I just want to focus on my career and finish what I've started after burning that bastard down.

However, I can't help smiling in the car all the way to the house. I should hate that jerk, but he's helped me retrieve my phone, changed my locks, cleared my name about the thesis, and now he's bringing me flowers. A thousand of them.

I'm super glad that my neighbors aren't back yet. The gossip would make tabloids for weeks.

After greeting my dad at the door, giving him a long hug that he seems confused by but accepts anyway, I head to my room and pick up my phone. I open Instagram, scrolling through my feed, and find that Nick is still offline. The last message I sent him hours ago remains unread.

Taking a deep breath, I check the search bar and input his name. Nikolai De Luca. His verified account pops up immediately, blue checkmark and all, and there's a lot that I've definitely missed over the years. Photos of his dog, a black Rottweiler, captioned Mylo. Campaign shoots in expensive clothes. Action shots from games, his body mid-air, his stick raised. Adverts for Yellow Leaves, him holding bottles of antidotes with that same smirk.

How could I have missed all of this? The comments are flooding with fangirls, heart emojis and thirsty remarks, and it makes my chest twitch in a way I don't want to examine. I scroll all the way to the bottom, to a photo from three years ago, and accidentally double tap.

Like.

Shoot.

I quickly unlike it, tapping the heart again, but the damage is already done. My phone buzzes with a text from him immediately.

\[@nikolaideluca: Still stalking me, Principessa?\]

\[@odessamontgomery: What happened to Tesoro?\]

I cringe at the question immediately, my face heating up. Why did I ask that? Why do I care what he calls me?

He reacts with a laughing emoji.

\[@nikolaideluca: You can be both.\]

And suddenly, I'm smiling again. I can't help it. The smile spreads across my face like it has a mind of its own.

\[@odessamontgomery: I got your package. Thank you for your peace offering. Now it's time to burn it as incense to the ancient gods.\]

\[@nikolaideluca: Ooh, great. Can I bring my blood too?\]

\[@odessamontgomery: As many pints as possible. They're really thirsty.\]

\[@nikolaideluca: What a pity.\]

\[@odessamontgomery: Indeed.\]

There's a pause. Then another message.

\[@nikolaideluca: So you accept my apology now?\]

I stare at the screen for a moment, my thumb hovering over the keyboard.

\[@odessamontgomery: Sure.\]

\[@nikolaideluca: So we're cool? Not suddenly best friends and all, but cool?\]

\[@odessamontgomery: Yes.\]

\[@nikolaideluca: Thank you.\]

I bite my lip.

\[@odessamontgomery: I knew you had a conscience.\]

\[@nikolaideluca: I should probably sacrifice it to the gods too. Oh, and you should get an email in a bit. A little surprise from Yellow Leaves. See you at the gala, Tesoro.\]