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“The lady who died?” the guy asked.
Emil shrugged and glanced behind him at the house. A small part of him wished that was ablaze too. It would solve at least half his problems. “Yeah. The lady who died. Did you know her?” He held his breath, not sure what he wanted the answer to be.
The guy shook his head, shooting him an apologetic look. “No. I only saw her a couple of times. She, uh…she didn’t leave her house much. I didn’t know she had kids.”
“Kid,” Emil said absently. “Just me. I didn’t come visit. I had my reasons.” He was well aware his voice was low and defensive, but he wasn’t sure he could handle explaining to a total stranger why his mother had died alone.
“Hmm” was the only noise he made, and then he fell quiet before folding himself down to sit beside Emil. Their knees were almost touching, and Emil noticed he was at least two inches shorter than him. “I’m Renzo.”
It was a gorgeous name—so fitting, even if he didn’t know where it was from. Emil bowed his head and stared at his feet. “Emil.”
“What is that? Like, Swedish?”
“Norwegian. My father lives there.”
“And you grew up here,” Renzo said, not quite a question but not quite a statement.
Emil shook his head. “No. Not here. My mother didn’t live here when I was with her. This is where they found her, and some guy told me to come because there was no one else who could clean up after she…after they took her out.” His voice threatened to crack, and he cleared his throat.
“Hey, Emil…”
“No,” he said, feeling a sudden panic threaten to take over. “Please don’t say sorry.”
Renzo didn’t answer him apart from a very soft noise of assent, and then he knocked his knee against Emil’s. “You’re not staying in that house, are you?”
Emil couldn’t help a small laugh, shaking his head as he focused on the single point where they were still touching. It was…strange. A good strange, but he had no real idea what to do with the flutter in his chest. “God, no. I’m staying elsewhere.”
“A good elsewhere?”
“Are you looking for an invite?”
Renzo shrugged. “More like you seem like you could use the company.”
“Do I?” It was meant to be a little mean, but Emil’s words sounded soft and wounded. Fuck.
“I wasn’t trying to insult you. I saw you earlier, and…I don’t know. I kind of wanted to come say hi, but it didn’t seem like the right time.”
Emil forced his shoulders to relax, and he looked over at Renzo. He really was so goddamn beautiful. “And now does?” He cracked a smile so Renzo wouldn’t think he was still on the defense.
Renzo laughed very softly, the sound barely audible over the crackling flames. “Maybe not? People don’t burn effigies unless they’re trying to erase some part of their past. Ask me how I know.”
“How do you know?” When Emil looked over, the man was wearing the softest smile.
“My ex didn’t leave a lot behind, but he left enough for a tiny little fire pit in the backyard. Our divorce was the best kind though, so I can’t complain.”
“What kind of divorce isthat?”
Renzo’s grin widened, though Emil could see something darker flickering in his eyes. “Quick and dirty. He was glad to be rid of the marriage, and so was I. I think he’s now holding hope I’ll quit my job so we don’t have to risk running into each other.”
Emil sucked in air through his teeth. “Oh, shit. You have to work together?”
“Different departments,” Renzo said. “We don’t see each other a lot, but he’s…charming. He’s very charming. People like him. And when he says I was the one who caused all of our issues, people believe him.”
“I don’t. He sounds like a complete and utter piece of shit.”
Renzo made a choking noise, then turned and lifted a brow. “I could be a liar, you know. I could be one of those narcissists that tells everyone their ex was some monster.”
“You could be, but narcissists don’t usually tell on themselves like that,” Emil pointed out.
