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But she told me to open my eyes with that bite in her tone that I can’t disobey.
Eurydice isn’t looking at me with anger. The emotion she’s wearing is far too complex for that. There’s some anger there, to be sure, along with sadness and bitterness and even a little pity. But mostly it’s…sorrow, my mind supplies. What I’m seeing is…sorrow.
She doesn’t step away for me. “It hurt. That night when everything happened, the physical pain I experienced was nothing compared to the knowledge that you valued me so little you were willing to let me die for your ambition.”
Horror closes around my chest. “I didn’t—”
“I know. At least I know that now. I didn’t know anything that night, not beyond the kind of fear that made me worried my heart would burst.” She looks away. “I forgive you. I’m not saying you didn’t share plenty of blame for what happened, but for all the time leading up to that night? It took two of us to get there. I was just so happy to be standing in your sunlight, I didn’t care there was nothing left of me. I didn’t know who I was, Orpheus. I wasn’t confident enough to tell you when you did something that made me feel small.”
The feeling in my chest sprouts fangs and claws. “I never wanted you to feel small. Not even on my worst day.”
“I know.” Slowly, she presses her hand to my chest. “I guess my point is that we both have changed quite a bit in the last year, but some things are really hard to unlearn. More than that, I don’t think you’re nearly as selfish now as you were when we dated the first time. That man would never have even considered noticing he was being selfish, let alone worrying about it. And, for the record, you’renotbeing selfish to worry about your family. I’ll say that as many times as it takes for you to believe me.”
Ironically, her words make me feel better…and worse. “I don’t understand why you don’t hate me. Things made more sense when I was scrubbing Charon’s floor.” Penance. I haven’t paid nearly enough of it, no matter what she thinks. If Charon was here, he would understand.
Her nails prick my chest through my shirt. “If you want some degradation, I’m happy to oblige. But only because it’s something youwant, not because it’s something you deserve.”
“Eurydice—”
“Don’t you get it? Your whole fucking life right now is penance, Orpheus. You haven’t been painting, which was the one thing that brought you pure joy. Best I can tell, you lost all your friends.”
“Turns out, they weren’t much of friends to begin with,” I mutter.
Her smile is sad and a little sharp. “I know. Now you know too. Your brother cut you off from the family purse. You’ve been miserable for months. It doesn’t change what you did, but it makes it a lot easier to forgive you. I can’t demand you forgive yourself—I wouldn’t dream of doing so—but you might want to try it on for size. Especially if you’re serious about wanting to build a life here.”
“Build a life here,” I echo. “Is that actually an option?”
“We’ll talk about it when Charon gets home.”
Because he is the other corner to our triangle. He’s a good portion of the reason why Eurydice has found her feet. He sure as fuck is the reason why I came to the lower city in the first place. He gave us the framework for this thing. I don’t know that we’d be having this conversation at all if not for him. “Okay.” I cover her hand with mine. “What can I do in the meantime to make you feel better?”
“I think we both could use a little comfort right now.” She turns her hand to interlace her fingers through mine. “Come on.”
As she leads me up the stairs, my heart starts to pound. Wasn’t I just thinking that Charon is the other corner of our triangle? Being sexual with Eurydice while he was present felt…safer. I wasn’t as worried about us bruising each other on our sharp edges. Not when he could step in at any moment.
It isn’t to the bedroom that Eurydice leads me. She takes me down a small hallway that I haven’t explored to a closed door. The look she shoots me is almost guilty, and I understand why the moment she pulls me inside.
It’s an art studio.
An unused one. I drop Eurydice’s hand and move about the space, my mind empty of thought. It’s not an exact replica of the one in my old apartment, but all the pieces are there. The easel with the oversized canvas I prefer to paint on. The oil paints in my favorite brand, all unopened and untouched. A slightly smaller selection of brushes than I normally use, but all of my favorite ones are there.
I turned to look at her. “What is this?”
“An…invitation. I know this is high-handed, and I’m only slightly sorry for it. You need something to do, Orpheus. You needthis. I saw your face when you had the brush in your hand last night.”
I feel exposed. There’s an impulse to strike out, to do something to burst this fragile moment where she sees me all too clearly. But then, Eurydice has always seen me more clearly than others. Before, I was arrogant enough to think it made me almost godlike in her eyes. Now I understand that, for all the good she sees, she is equallyaware of my flaws and dark underbelly. All the things I would hide from the world, laid out for her perusal. “You spent too much.” That, at least, is a reasonable response.
“It might’ve been my idea, but this gift isn’t from me.” She moves to the comfortable-looking chaise positioned in such a way that someone sitting on it can watch the person at the canvas while still being out of the way. “If you want to throw a fit about it, take it up with Charon.”
I turn slowly, taking in the room through new eyes. “Charon did this?”
“I suggested we collect your things from your apartment in the upper city, but he muttered something about new beginnings. I provided the information about the products you prefer to work with, but he did the rest. Or rather, he sent one of his people to do the rest.”
I don’t know if that changes things or not. I don’t know how to feel at all.
Without meaning to, I run my fingers over the plastic that covers the canvas. It’s been so long. I don’t know if I even know how to paint anymore. Last night was as much about Eurydice and caring for her as it was about the paint itself, but she’s right. It felt good to have a brush in my hand again. I turn to find her perched on the chaise, watching me closely. “You didn’t really answer my question, you know. About what would make you feel better while we wait for Charon.”
Her smile is soft and sweet. “I thought it was obvious—I’d like to watch you paint.”
