I find Tatya in her dressing room, still applying her makeup for tonight’s show. When she spots me in the mirror, she flashes her megawatt smile, before her eyes seem to hint she remembers what happened the last time we spoke.
“I’m sorry,” I say before she gets the chance to talk first. “I should never have talked to my parents about what would happen if you left—not even figuratively. It was a garbage thing to do, especially to a friend.”
Tatya turns in her chair, her shoulders relaxing. “Oh, Harley. I forgave you weeks ago.” She stands up and holds out her arms, and I crush myself against her because I’m just so relieved.
I sit with her while she gets ready, and she asks me all about Maison du Mystère. I tell her all my stories, despite the fact that so many make my heart hurt.
“A little bird told me you were doing incredibly well over there,” she says, tracing her eye with black liner. “I was really happy for you, chasing your dreams like that. You’re so brave.”
I frown. “A little bird?”
Tatya laughs. “I used to work at another circus with Jin Thompson, years ago. Did he not mention it?”
I press my lips together. “No, he didn’t.” So that’s how Maggie found out who I was. And then I frown. “Did you tell my parents? Is that how they knew where I was?”
Tatya shakes her head. “It wasn’t me. I didn’t even know you were keeping it a secret from them, and they never asked.”
I frown. I’ve been so consumed by my own feelings that I still haven’t managed to find out what brought them to the circus. I never told Popo I was performing. In fact, I didn’t tell anyone.
So if it wasn’t Tatya, then who?
“I’m glad you’re back,” Tatya says, smiling in the mirror. “The circus isn’t quite the same without you.”
“I’m glad to be back too,” I say, but as soon as the words leave me, I realize they’re not true.
I barely thought about Teatro della Notte the entire time I was away. And it’s not because I don’t love it, because I do—even now. Even though it feels different.
But I fell in love with Maison du Mystère. I fell in love with the people. I fell in love with the way their magic was different.
The way their circus life was different.
I miss it so much, it feels like there’s a knife in my stomach and someone is twisting and twisting and twisting until I want to keel over.
I hope one day I’ll love something that much again.
I guess that’s one benefit to having a heart that’s full of holes—there’s a lot of room to love something new.
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
Dad’s standing in his office, his violin against his chin, the warm sound filling the room.
There was nothing warm about the way Vas played. His sound would grab hold of your heart and clench hard, making you ache. It was whispers and graveyards and longing for the past.
Dad’s sound is friendlier. Softer.
He catches me staring, concern taking over his brow. He drops the wooden instrument to his side. “Is everything okay?”
I take a breath, like I’m coming back to life. “Yeah, fine. Sorry, I was… remembering someone.”
He nods. This is usually the point he’d turn back to his music, a look on his face that says he’ll forgive the interruption but would prefer if it didn’t happen again.
But Dad’s eyes are still on me. “Did you want to talk?” The words sound strange leaving his mouth. They must taste strange too, because he flexes his jaw and rolls his tongue to the inside of his mouth like he’s not sure what to make of them.
“It’s okay,” I say quickly, starting to retreat. “You’re busy.”
“No.” He sets his violin carefully on his desk, holding a hand toward the small couch against the wall. “I can make time.”
Make time. What a strange thing to say. Nobody can really make time—they can only offer the time they have.
But Dad’s never offered his time before. Not to me.
I take a seat, my hands fiddling with my pajama bottoms. He sits in his chair across from me, his hands on his knees like he’s ready to give a lecture.
And it makes me smile, how obvious it is that Dad has no idea what he’s doing.
But at least he’s trying.
“What’s so funny?” he asks, looking self-conscious.
I shake my head quickly. “You just… look like you’re about