“Tell me, Ever, am I on theright track ? Are these thethings you were referring to?”

“How did—” I start.

But the words are drowned out by his voice when he says, “Oh, and let’s not forget aboutDrina, who, as it turns out, was alsoimmortal . And then, of course, there was Roman as well. Not to mention Marco, Misa, and Rafe—the three somewhat annoying tagalongs Haven’s chosen to hang with for whatever unknown reason. And, I can’t believe I almost forgot to mention the most recent addition to the gang of the eternally beautiful—our dear friend Haven herself. Or, should I say,my dear friend, your newfound immortal enemy—even though you’re the one who chose to make her like you? Is this the kind of stuff I couldn’t possibly begin to understand?”

I swallow hard, stunned into silence and unable to think of anything better to do than sit there and stare.

And even though I mostly feel horrified to have it all laid out before me like that—the accumulated facts of my very strange life revealed in a way so neutral, so ordinary, it hardly seems real, even to me—there’s also a small part of me that’s relieved.

I’ve been carrying this secret for so long, I can’t help but feel lighter, brighter, as though I’ve finally been freed of a burden that was far too heavy to bear on my own.

But Miles isn’t finished. He’s only just begun. So I shake my head and refocus on his words, struggling to keep up when he says, “And the ironic thing is, if you really stop and think about it, if you really stop and ponder it in amethodical, logical way, well then, I think it’s pretty clear thatI’m the one who should be avoidingyou .”

I squint, not quite following how he arrived at that conclusion but knowing he’s about to explain.

“I mean, imagine how it feels to find out that the friends I thought I knewso well, the same friends I felt confident sharingeverything with, are not onlynot at all what they appear to be, but that they’re also,every single one of them, members of a super-exclusive, super-secret club. A club where, it’s pretty dang obvious that everyone is welcome. Everyonebut me .” He stops, shaking his head as he moves toward the front of the store, gazing out the display windows at the sun-dappled street just beyond. His voice bearing the burden of his words when he says, “I gotta tell ya, Ever, ithurts . Make no mistake. It really and truly hurts me to the core. I mean, the way I see it, which is the only way anyonecould see it, but still, the wayI see it, it’s like you don’t want me to be immortal too. It’s like you don’t want to know me, or even be my friend, for anything even close to resembling eternity.”

He turns, turns until he’s facing me, and one look at his face is all it takes to know that this is even worse than I thought. And I know I have to say something quick, something to temper all this, but before I can even open my mouth, he’s back for round two, forcing me to sit back and wait for my turn.

“And you know what really kills me the most? You know who saw fit to finally fill me in on all this?” He pauses as though waiting for me to respond, but I won’t, the question was obviously rhetorical. This is his show, his script, and I have no intention of stealing his scene. “The one and only person out of your entire super-secret gang of the eternally beautiful—the only one out of all of you who was willing to sit down and level with me, without pulling any punches or trying to pass off any kind of bull—the one and only person who was willing to look me in the eye and reveal all was surprisingly enough—”

And before he can finish—before he can utter the word I already know.

Damen.

Remembering the moment Miles e-mailed the portraits he’d uncovered in Florence—the portraits Roman was determined he’d find.

The way Damen’s fingers trembled as I passed him the phone, the way his lids narrowed, his jaw tightened, the way he so valiantly accepted the sudden unearthing of his centuries-old secret.

The way he vowed to come clean with Miles, to stop hiding, stop lying, to finally tell the truth and get it all out in the open.

But never once believing he’d actually go through with it.

“Damen.” Miles confirms, nodding emphatically, gaze never once leaving mine. “And when you consider the fact that I’ve known him for—what?Less than a year? Less time than I’ve known you anyway, that’s for dang sure, and certainlyfar less time than I’ve known Haven. And yethe’s the one who told me.

Despite the fact that I talk to him far,far less than I talk to either of you—he’s the one who chose to be straight with me. Even though he’s always been the quiet keep-to-himself type—and now I know why —but anyway, even though we’ve never really bonded, so to speak, he’s still the only one who treated me like atrue friend . Like someone he could trust and confide in. He just sat me down and spilled it—told me the truth about you, about him, about—about everything—all of it!”

“Miles—” I start, my voice hesitant, unsure what to say, unsure if he’s really ready to listen to me anyway.

But when he stops long enough to gaze at me, head cocked to the side, brow raised in a challenge, I know that he is. Yet before I can even begin to go there, before I can start up with the whole laundry list of reasons for why I purposely kept him in the dark—all the very good and valid reasons for why he should beglad he was kept in the dark—I need to see for myself.

Need to see what Damen told him.