Space (Laws of Physics #2)(34)

“I haven’t seen Mona, unfortunately. But Leo said she’s not very social, so maybe she just needs time to warm up to us?” Kaitlyn shrugged and turned her attention to the book of my half-finished poetry, as if being antisocial explained Mona’s absence at every meal for the last few days, that she never left the third floor, went outside, or interacted with anyone in a house full of people.

Antisocial didn’t quite cover it.

I’d read Mona’s note, the one she’d left on my side table, the one where she’d asked me—if I had the time and inclination—to meet with her. It was impersonal and polite. It made me angry. I tore it up and tossed it into the big stone fireplace two days ago.

I glanced at the large fire there now, unable to see any trace of the burnt letter. It looked like Melvin made a habit of cleaning out the ashes every day. Good riddance.

“Damn.” Charlie frowned.

“Why damn?” Ruthie strummed lightly on her guitar, trying to replicate a melody Kaitlyn had played earlier on the piano.

“I kinda—you know.” He glanced between Kaitlyn and Ruthie. “I wanted to get to know her.”

“Why?” I asked, the question unplanned. So was the scowl I wore.

Charlie was a nice guy, if not a little cynical and jaded. He was a great drummer, a good friend. I usually liked Charlie.

But I didn’t like Charlie right now.

“Because she’s Mona-fucking-DaVinci, Abram. How often do you get a chance to converse with a literal fucking genius?” Charlie’s attention was on me, so he didn’t see Kaitlyn flinch at his use of the F-word.

But because his attention was on me, I made my expression carefully neutral. “What would there be to talk about, Charlie? She’s a rocket scientist. Encyclopedic knowledge of Star Trek isn’t the same thing.”

That earned me a glare from Kaitlyn even though she was fighting a grin. “Hey now, Star Trek is awesome.”

“No arguments here.” I made live long and prosper signs with both my right and left hands. “But you have to admit Kaitlyn, his statement is illogical,” I added, doing my best Spock impression, making them all chuckle, and once again successfully hiding my preoccupation with Mona DaVinci and her whereabouts.

I’d been searching for her everywhere for the last two days, except the third floor. Her floor. I had no reason to go up there, and I wouldn’t invade her space without an invitation. I’d already invaded her vacation for reasons unclear even to myself.

The house was huge, large enough that you could go all day seeing just two or three of the twenty-seven people currently here until dinner. Everyone ate together at dinner time, except Mona. She hadn’t eaten with us yet and her absence had been noticed by more people than just me.

According to Lila, Mona didn’t want food to be brought up to her room. Over our meal last night, Charlie had asked Allyn if she needed help making a plate for Mona.

With a bright smile for everyone but me, Allyn had said, “No. No need. She’ll come down later and get something if she’s hungry. No worries.” Then she’d picked up a bowl and in a terrible British accent said, “Oh, what excellent boiled potatoes.” Which made a few people laugh.

Taking advantage of the distraction provided by her Mr. Collins reference, Allyn had glared pointedly at me, making me assume two things to be true: Allyn was no longer a fan of mine, and Mona had filled her in on some version of our conversation in the study.

This frustrated me, made me restless, aggravated. I didn’t fault Mona for talking to her friend, that made sense. But hiding? Avoiding everyone? Rather than, if she had something to say, seeking me out and telling her side? That struck me as cowardly.

Or maybe she doesn’t care.

Maybe she was just as cold and detached as everyone claimed. I didn’t know. She didn’t give me anything but polite notes and fucking restraint.

After dinner, I gave Allyn a wide-berth and I camped out in the kitchen, helping Lila with the dishes, and then reading a book until past 3:00 AM. Mona never came down.

I’d almost convinced myself this urge to seek her out was revenge related. Maybe I really did want to settle a score. If that was the case, if I wanted to get even, then one uncomfortable conversation didn’t settle anything.

No, I wasn’t finished with her yet.

Except . . . revenge wasn’t the reason I’d positioned myself in the library, hoping she’d come down to find a book, or why I’d awoken early the last two mornings to catch her at the pool (Allyn said she still swam laps, usually in the early morning). Knowing she was here but absent was almost as unbearable as it had been the first time, when I’d thought Lisa was my Lisa, and we’d waited for Dr. Steward to arrive in our separate corners of the Chicago house.

Given the murkiness of my motives and how I compulsively sought her out, like a pitiful, lovesick idiot, you might think I’d grow tired of her, of thinking about her, and let it all go. You’d be wrong. If anything, the fact that I couldn’t help myself, that she still held this power over me, that I couldn’t think straight with her so close, only made me angrier.

“Hey, listen to this.” Kaitlyn lifted one of my lyric books, one I didn’t remember packing but immediately recognized now that I took the time to scan the front. My hands gripped the arms of my chair reflexively and I readied myself for what she might’ve found.