CHURCH was an experience.

    For starters, it was an exclusive church. Only the rich could get in. Probably because they had funded its construction, brick by luxurious brick. The ceilings stretched so high they might as well have broken the very plane of existence on which the clouds touched, and natural light streamed through the stained glass windows―a waterfall of soft, shimmering, rainbow colour. 

    Muse had never been religious, but she felt reverent now.

    Her and Adrien had decided to hold hands for their first real public appearance. She squeezed Adrien's as they walked through the tall, glossy church doors. She refused to let go, even though it meant awkwardly shifting her purse so she could make a cross on her forehead with holy water. 

     Once Adrien had done the same, Muse tugged a little on Adrien. Adrien leaned down, and Muse whispered, "No flames yet."

     Adrien smirked, her lips a breath away from Muse's cheek. Something in Muse's chest tightened, unbearable. She wanted to turn her head, just a bit, and feel that smirk against her own lips. But this was church. And they were surrounded by rich people, impeccably dressed, with proud stares and stiff shoulders. Hand-holding was acceptable―that was the line drawn. If they kissed now, Muse bet they would whip out the pitch forks and start hissing.

      She was still tempted anyway.

      It's just the nerves, she told herself, as Adrien led her towards a pew in the middle. They would be seen from all angles here. A soft launch of their new relationship, their future marriage. 

      "Muse!" 

      Muse turned, squeezing Adrien's hand again. Grey Hansen had called out to her, tall and booming, dressed in a midnight blue suit. He gave her a swift up-and-down, and she was reminded again of what she was wearing: a turtle-necked, knee-length cream dress. She'd thought it was ridiculous at first, but Adrien had asked her how she managed to make everything look beautiful. Now, she didn't really mind it. 

       Adrien, next to her, was dressed similarly. She had on a suit, with a high collar and a cream tie to match Muse.

      "Grey, it's nice to see you," said Muse. It was not.

      "Excuse me for a second," said Adrien to Muse and Grey. To Muse, she whispered, "There's my father. Let me deal with him. I don't want him to come close to you. As long as he sees you here, though, I think he'll let it be."

      Muse did not want to be abandoned, but Adrien let go of her hand and she had no choice. At least she wouldn't have to talk to Julien, who had implied she was a trashy whore. But was that worth losing Adrien?

     Forced to make small talk with Grey, who was the only other person she knew here, Muse asked, "How are you?"

      "Yes, yes," he said distractedly. "Oh. This is my wife, Sherry." And he pulled from within the crowd a woman with brown skin and sleek hair, her smile subdued, eyes exhausted. She had one hand on her stomach, which was swollen with what had to be at least six months of pregnancy. She had obviously been mid-conversation with a friend, but Grey didn't acknowledge it. He only wrapped a possessive arm around her and grinned. "Sherry, honey, this is Muse . . . um, sorry, what was your last name?"

      "Gardner."

      "Ah, yes." Grey grinned again, teeth dazzlingly white. His auburn locks had been swept to the side, like the last time Muse had met him―only this time, he had used enough gel to cast a reflection on the artful wave of his hair. "Muse Gardner. She's here with Julien's daughter."

      Julien's daughter . . . as if he didn't know Adrien's name, hadn't grown up side by side with her.

      "Sherry, um, how are you?" said Muse.

      "Oh . . . good. Good."

      "She's glowing, isn't she?" said Grey, black eyes bright. "Pregnancy suits her. We'll have another right after, I hope. Just the way my mother did it."

       A subtle but immediate flinch revealed to Muse that Sherry did not like this idea. She looked exhausted already. But she only nodded and offered a vague smile, as if this was an argument they'd had before. 

      Someone tapped on Muse's shoulder. 

      Muse spun around, positive it would be Adrien. But a different woman greeted her―blonde with uptilted dark eyes, and sharp cat eyeliner. The expression on her face conveyed no warmth, no friendliness. Nothing but grim determination.

     "Can I talk to you?"

     "Do I know you?"

      "No," said the blonde, "but I know you, Muse."

      Ominous, thought Muse. She turned to excuse herself from the exchange with Grey and his wife, Sherry, but they had already moved on. Through flashes of the crowd, Muse spotted Adrien. She was no longer arguing with her father, but talking in a formal manner to men in business suits. They had to be rich, important CEOs. It was probably work-related. 

      Without Adrien or even Grey, Muse would have no choice but to make small talk or sit alone in the pew. Up on the altar, the priest was still shuffling with his books. Plenty of time left until the sermon started.

      Muse didn't have anything better to do. With a shrug, she let herself be led by the blonde towards the staircase.      

      "Where are we going?" Surely she wouldn't be murdered in a church. Although the irony of that would almost make it worth it.

      The blonde didn't look back. She wore a suit, like Adrien. Hers was cobalt blue, with matching low heels that clicked softly against the ground on each step upward.

      "The rafters."

      Muse refrained from asking why. Once they'd reached the top of the stairs, a cozy corner awaited them, tucked between stained glass and a chandelier. The view overlooked the entire church. From up here, Muse could pick out Adrien's head of glossy black hair, Julien's salt-and-pepper, Grey's auburn. She could see the priest still fidgeting at the altar, and the ladies who had already sat down in the front row, primly adjusting their pastel coats and umbrellas.

      No wonder church was so important to Julien Vitale. It had been only twenty minutes, and Muse found that it was less about spirituality and more about business opportunity. 

     "I should probably go back," said Muse. "Adrien―"

     "I want to talk to you about Adrien."

      This would be interesting. "What about her?"

      "I need to warn you."

      "I don't even know your name."

      The blonde hesitated, then said, "Piper. I'm her ex."

       An ex? "Must be serious, for you to be dragging me up into the church rafters."

      "I've heard rumours and . . . don't."

      "Don't?" Muse echoed.

      "Don't do it. Don't marry her. She's terrified of commitment, right to her core. And she's not a good person. She has that business. It takes up so much of her time. She'll never pick you. Trust me, you'll never matter as much to her as making money."

      "Not really your concern. Maybe I have a thing for workaholics who don't prioritize me."

      Piper's expression didn't falter. Still pleading, she continued, "She's slept with half the female population of New York. It's a routine. She'll never stop. She makes them sign NDAs once they get to her apartment, she sleeps with them, and when they wake up, she wants them gone."

      Muse crossed her arms like she didn't feel the jealous sting of hearing about Adrien's past lovers. "If you signed an NDA, maybe you shouldn't be talking about this."

      The desperation became high-pitched in Piper's tone. "You have to believe me."

      "I believe you, alright." She wanted to be as far away from this conversation, and Adrien's ex, as humanly possible. It wasn't that she didn't believe Piper. Simply, it was a choice between being unbothered or having a meltdown and ripping out all of Piper's blonde hair, because the idea of Adrien having slept with another woman enraged her for no reason.

      "She has a special apartment for them, too."

      "Okay."

      "It's off the corner of Park."

      "Nice. Must be big."

      "It's a penthouse."

      "Good view, I bet."

      "There's wall-to-ceiling windows and a balcony and white countertops and a huge fish tank and . . ."

      At the mention of a fish tank, Muse's head tilted. Her world went a little sideways.

      Piper latched onto it. Blood in the water. 

      "You know what I'm talking about," she said, talking faster and faster. "You've seen it. The fish tank―it's all glowy and shit. That huge king-size bed, too. Have you slept in it? I bet you have. She took you there, like she took the rest of us. You're not any more special." She seemed almost in a frenzy, as if this information delighted her. "I knew it. I knew it."

       You're not any more special. If the marriage was anything but a contract, anything but a deal, anything but pen signed on paper, Muse might have lost her mind right now. She might have stormed off and hidden in the bathroom and either bawled or torn off a stall door. 

      But, as it was, her relationship with Adrien was purely professional.

      And when a soft bell rang out through the church, signalling the beginning of the sermon, she went down the stairs without looking back at Piper. 

     Purely professional, as she wove through the crowd to find Adrien's row.

     Purely professional, as Adrien waved her over and they took their seat next to each other.

     "Hey, you good so far?"

      Muse did not turn her head. Did not acknowledge she had heard Adrien at all.

      Adrien moved closer to her, barely a breath between them now, so she could move her lips and still be heard. Both of them still stared straight ahead. "What's wrong? Did my dad end up saying something to you?"

     Mutely, Muse gave the faintest shake of her head.

     "Was it Grey? If anyone said something cruel to you, Muse, I'll―"

      Muse opened her mouth. Purely professionally, she said, "You brought me to your motherfucking slut hut?!"

***

Little life update: I started my first year of university in Montreal!! McGill has been fun so far. Also, thank you for all the love you give my updates. It makes me so happy.

From the moon and back,
Sarai