Why in the hell is Kameron Grant in Everton?
22
Eden
It takes everything in my mental and physical capacity to keep my nerves at bay.
Kameron, on the other hand, looks as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. He makes small talk with new members, smiling, even managing to laugh at whatever remarks someone made. It’s like he doesn’t even know I’m in the same room. Either he is an extremely good actor, or he honestly doesn’t know it is me.
I don’t for a second believe he didn’t recognize me. Not with the flash of panic that flickered on his face when our eyes locked. That moment was the last time he has even looked at me. I see him look over to Samuel, who is sitting right next to me, but never at me directly.
It is driving me insane.
Even after dinner is over and we are in the entertainment wing, he isn’t looking at me. I haven’t been able to go near him. So, I have just been watching from afar. My skin is on fire with how close I know he is. I don’t even know if I want to go near him.
With Samuel around, that would be a horrible idea.
Samuel hands me a flute of champagne from a catering tray. “You have been off all night. What’s wrong with my Eden?” He tugs my chin to look up at him.
“Nothing, really. I’m just rather tired, and these events always run so long.” I paste a relaxed smile on my face, trying to be as playful as usual.
He doesn’t look convinced. There are still questions he wants to ask but can’t with where we are.
He settles with saying, “Let’s go make our rounds.”
Samuel places his hand on the small of my back and gestures with his other to walk with him. He leads me straight to the new couple, the younger one.
The wife spots us before her husband, and she nudges him with her elbow, bringing her eyes back to us. Her husband rubs the spot on his ribs and immediately straightens.
“Mr. Donovan, sir.” The husband returns a small bow everyone in the community does when Samuel or Mr. Donovan comes into a room.
As for if it’s just me or Mrs. Donovan, they don’t offer the same courtesy.
The man’s wife mimics the bow, but her eyes stay on me. “Mrs. Donovan.”
I wave in front of me. “No, no. That would be our mother.Ms.Donovan.”
Despite me trying to correct her politely, the words come out so rushed and flat. I don’t know why being mistaken forMrs. Donovan would bring me such displeasure.
“I apologize. My wife didn’t know Mr. Donovan.” The man lowers his eyes.
His tone is almost desperate with his apology.
I don’t know why everyone thinks Mr. Donovan and Samuel are so intimidating. Sure, they are the leaders of this community. The Vessel to the Divine Themselves, of course. But to be scared of them has always confused me. Maybe it is more of a respect thing, but everyone acts like their lives are in their hands.
“No apologies needed, Mr. Calloway.” Samuel’s fingers trail across my waist, and he pulls me closer to his side. “We just wanted to welcome you to the community and look forward to your loyalty to the Divine.”
“Thank you, Mr. Donovan.” With that, Samuel pushes against my back to continue walking.
With every step, I watch my feet, and when Samuel stops again, a deep voice greets us.
“Good evening, Mr. Donovan and . . .”
I can’t look up. As much as I want to, I can’t take my eyes off my shoes as the tip of them starts to tap the ground, a nervous tick I seem to have developed tonight.
“This is Eden. Eden Donovan. Eden, this is Stephen Harris?” Samuel says to me with a nudge.
“Hello,Eden. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Kameron says—or is it really Stephen?
