I think you’ve been grieving his loss for a long time before today.
He’s probably right.
There’s one thing left on my list of things to do this Sunday, something I seem to carry over from day to day.
I scroll through my contacts, but a call from Ophelia pops up before I reach the name I’m looking for.
Her voice is always so welcome, a metronome for my heartbeat, a salve for my wounds. “How did it go?”
“I don’t know, really. I don’t really know how well it went or how I’m feeling.”
“That’s okay. If you were jumping for joy, I’d understand. If you were weeping in the car, I’d get it, too.”
I don’t know how I ended up with her in my life. She’s not just a reason to tread water, she’s a whole life raft. “Fuck, I miss you.”
“Does your heart ache?” she asks, tone teasing.
“And my dick.”
Her laughter is soft and happy, followed by a yawn. It must be late for her. “Sucks for you.”
“I was actually about to make a call.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah … it’s … I don’t want to tempt fate.”
“Tell me when you’re ready. I love you.”
The call drops, and my grin in the reflection of my car is ridiculous, a glint in my eye I’ve never really noticed before.
I don’t look like him at all.
I don’tfeellike him anymore.
I extinguish my cigarette and press my phone to my ear, letting it ring.
“I thought I’d never hear from you again.”
I take a deep breath, swallow my pride. “Is it too late to take you up on your offer?”
Chapter 28
OPHELIA
Sorrowsong took the phraseApril showersseriously, but May is turning out to be even worse.
The month is drawing to a close, and there’s hardly been a day it hasn’t rained. The tarn is full to bursting, the river choppy and rough.
It’s been a month since my friends picked me up at the airport. A month of long distance with Alex. A month of Cain locked behind bars. A month of my grades and my swim performance being my main concern.
A month of leaving wildflowers on the riverbank where I scattered Laura’s ashes.
I leave the exam hall with a good feeling—a renewed desire to have a career, a life, a future.
My boots sink into the mud of the path to the mansion, everything softened by the rain. Thick slate clouds hang low over the castle, the highest turret lost in the mist. Summer is most definitelynotin the air.
But for once, I see why Colette loves it here. The castle, the dark hallways, the low light in the library, the constant rumble of thunder that she says helps her sleep. She thinks Sorrowsong is something straight out of a fairy tale.
