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Yes, William, good point.
It’s best to leave the vampire lair before he sucks our blood.
“Fine, what do we have to do?”
The lawyer drones on and on, unable to do anything with precision before he leans forward and I swear I see his skin slip down his face.
He must be wearing a skin mask over that skeleton of his.
“She left you both letters,” the undead man says.
And time stops. Utterly stands still. My breath comes out in a whoosh and I begin to tremble because I wasn’t expecting this.
“Can we have them?” William asks, reaching past me, his hand shaking slightly.
The man holds them out to us and I grab mine, clutching it to my chest, my eyes wet and my throat sore.
“I’ll read it when we get home,” I tell William, who has already opened his letter and has consumed it.
I won’t be doing that. I am going to read it slowly and savor every word.
That night, when William is sound asleep, I steal out into the living room, curl up on my sofa and open the letter.
Dear Lex,
My sweet boy. The moment you walked into my life you were mine. I want you to know that I see you as my son, my grandson, a part of my heart. I love you dearly and have so enjoyed getting to know what a wonderful, bright, and caring man you are. So, take heart, be brave, and hold onto hope. You will find love again once I’m gone. You have been loved by me and you will be loved again by another.
You deserve the world, Lex.
Thank you for letting me be a part of yours.
Love always,
Brenda.
EPILOGUE
SIX MONTHS LATER
LEX
“That looks fucking ridiculous on you,” I tell William who shifts on his feet in the middle of our living room wearing a shirt that Martha made him.
“Ihaveto wear it. She made it.”
I raise an eyebrow at him and then try to smother a laugh but fail. Because Martha would, the saucy minx.
“It has my face all over it. You’re wearing a Lex shirt.”
William runs a hand down his chest and his cheeks turn strawberry pink. “Yes, she’s very inventive.”
“I think she special ordered the fabric and then made this to see if you’d actually wear it. It’s a test, William.”
“Yes, well, I am. I can’t not wear it.”
“Very true,” I say, sliding a finger down his arm and watching as goosebumps prickle his skin. He’s still not tired of me, still as insatiable as ever, and he tells me he loves me every day. He gave up his apartment and moved in with me shortly after the funeral, and honestly, I’ve never been happier. I’ve finally found my person, my home, and I’m never letting go. He’s stuck with me now.
“Well, I love it. I like that people can see who you belong to.”
