Page 83 of Pretty Thing

Michelle lowers her voice.

“I know this can’t be easy.”

This is a lot to take in, and my mind is not functioning properly.

I don’t want things replaced. I want my parents. But grief doesn’t care about schedules. I need to sign papers, make calls, cancel subscriptions. It’s an endless loop of one reminder after another.

Eventually the meeting ends, and Michelle gives me copies of the paperwork in a plain brown envelope.

The second we get outside, I start crying. Not loud, broken sobs like before. Just me, standing beside Felix in the parking lot, with tears running down my face.

He wraps me in his arms.

“It’s going to be okay. You did amazing in there.”

I laugh weakly.

“They’re fixing everything. Even from the grave, they are taking my hand and leading me along to ensure I’m safe. It’s breaking my heart all over again. They loved me so much, and even though my love hasn’t faded in their absence, all I can think is that I could’ve been a better daughter.”

His expression softens.

“Stop. If there is one thing I’ve learned from watching you go through all of this, it’s that your parents wouldn’t want you thinking like that.”

I wipe my eyes.

He’s calm and gentle as if he fully understands. I think of the parallels in our lives and realize that he really does. Felix knows better than anyone else what I’m feeling.

“I know, but my brain still goes there,” I say as he steps back, keeping his hands on my shoulders. I stare down at the folder. “I don’t know what to do now.”

Felix watches me quietly, then unexpectedly he says, “Coffee?”

I blink.

“What?”

He points down the street.

“You need coffee.”

That startles a laugh out of me.

“Doctor’s orders?”

“No.” His mouth twitches. “My orders.”

Felix brushes his lips over mine, and I tremble.

“Drink it for me, Pretty Thing. Say yes.” He nips my bottom lip making me audibly gasp. Felix smirks.

“Yes,” I whisper, unable to deny him even if I want to.

“Good girl.”

Five minutes later I’m holding a ridiculously large coffee and an entire bag of chocolate croissants. I expect Felix to drive home, but he turns left, instead of right.

I look over at him.

“Where are we going?”