“That’s a good idea.” Grom’s already treading in icy waters by taking a Poseidon mate against Antonis’s wishes. But because of who Grom is—firstborn, third-generation Triton Royal—he’s basically rendering the law obsolete by mating with Paca, who is, by the law’s standards, a Common. Which isn’t fair, since King Antonis’s refusal to produce more offspring forced him to this decision. But would the kingdoms see that? Would they see it as a self-sacrificing effort on Grom’s part to keep the benefit of the Gifts? Or would they view it as a power-hungry move to rule both kingdoms—especially given Jagen’s reputation for treasonous talk?

“He wants you and Rayna both to stay away until he announces the ceremony. I told him you had plenty to keep you occupied until then.”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you brainless as a reef, minnow? You can have Emma now. Why you’re wasting your time here in Eggland—Galen? Galen, wait for me!”

25

I’M NOT sure if all Syrena have bulletproof endurance or if Galen is particularly blessed with it. Even now, as I lock the front dead bolt while Mark holds his car door open for me, Galen is blowing up my cell. I slide into the passenger seat of the pickup truck and try to organize my face into a convincing expression of relaxed, even though my insides are twisting faster than a whirlpool.

I thought Galen had given up trying to talk to me. I mean, what else is there to say? He played me like an Xbox. A broom and dustpan couldn’t clean up all the pieces of my heart he shattered. I’ve been so stupid. But not anymore.

Keeping distance between us at school hasn’t been easy, but I’ve managed. And when I sense him in the water in front of my house, I get out. By Wednesday, he stopped calling me. He even skipped school today. So what’s his deal now? Doesn’t he see that I need to get away from him?

And why can’t I have an ignore button like my phone? As I hit it, his calls disappear from the screen and the ringing stops. But the tingles are still at my fingertips, as if he sent them through the phone to grab me. Shoving it in my purse—the pockets on skinny jeans must just be for show ’cause nothing else is fitting in there—I smile at Mark.

Ah, Mark. The blue-eyed, blond-haired, all-American quarterback. Who knew he had a crush on me all these years? Not Emma McIntosh, that’s for dang sure. And not Chloe. Which is weird, because Chloe was a collector of this kind of information. Maybe it’s not true. Maybe Mark’s only interested in me because Galen was—who wouldn’t want to date the girl who dated the hottest guy in school? But that’s just fine with me. Mark is … well, Mark isn’t as fantabulous as I always imagined he would be.

Still, he’s good-looking, a star quarterback, and he’s not trying to hook me up with his brother. So why am I not excited?

The question must be all over my face because Mark’s got his eyebrow raised. Not in a judgmental arch, more like an arch of expectation. If he’s waiting for an explanation, his puny human lungs can’t hold their breath long enough for an answer.

Aside from not being his business, I can’t exactly explain the details of my relationship with Galen—fake or otherwise. The truth is, I don’t know where we can go from here. He ripped holes in my pride like buckshot. And did I mention he broke my heart?

He’s not just a crush. Not just a physical attraction, someone who can make me forget my own name by pretending to kiss me. Not just a teacher or a snobby fish with Royal blood. Sure, he’s all of those things. But he’s more than that. He’s who I want. Possibly forever.

But I’m not in danger of becoming “that girl.” The one who throws away her college education in favor of marrying some guy right out of high school. The one who sacrifices everything she wants in order to make his dreams come true, to make him happy. The one who hangs on his every smile, his every word, bears his children, cooks his dinner, and snuggles up to him at night. Nope, definitely not in danger of becoming her.

Because Galen doesn’t want me. If that kiss were real, I might have thrown scholarships to the wind and followed him to our own private island or his underwater kingdom. I might have even cooked him fish.

Sure, Galen would love for me to do all those things. With his brother.

So it’s a good thing I’m being proactive about my own recovery by going on a date, even if it is a rebound—and even if I’m rebounding from a relationship that didn’t actually exist. My feelings were real. That’s all that matters, isn’t it? There’s no stipulation in the broken-heart rule book that states the relationship had to actually be authentic, right? Sure, I’m gray-shading the line that separates stable and crazy, but the point is, there is a line. And I haven’t completely crossed over to lunatic.

Mark sitting next to me proves it. I’m moving on. Getting on with my life. Staying in school. Enrolling in college. Cooking chicken instead of fish. Dating other people. And with enough luck, I’ll be kissing other people by the end of this date. Even if it doesn’t mean anything.

“Is everything okay?” Mark asks as we turn onto the interstate.

“Sure. Why?” But we both know why he’d ask.

Mark’s obviously too much of a gentleman to point out that I’m getting more space time than an astronaut. He says, “You just seem quiet tonight. I hope I didn’t already do something to screw this up.”

I laugh. “That’s exactly what I was just thinking. That I didn’t want to screw it up, I mean.”