“Eight thousand and one.”
Angel wing. Middle finger.
Easy to hide. Easy to pass it off as something other than that I was falling for her and I needed to express it before I choked on it. Decided on it when she fell asleep, the night I found her sobbing on the landing.
Lana shrugged. “Must be genetic.”
I smiled at her, and then it hit me—really hit me—that I was smiling at my sister.
My sister, who I’d avoided for years because I thought she blamed me. Because I thought I’d failed her.
But I hadn’t. Not to her, anyway. I’d been tearing myself apart for nothing, too blind to see the truth. And in the meantime, I’d missed the life she built for herself. Missed her.
“What are they like?” I blurted before I could stop myself.
She knew exactly who I meant. “Anna’s Mamà’s double. But she’s got Tom’s sense of humour. Just started preschool.”
I smiled again, but this time it ached. God, for the first time in my life, I prayed for standstill traffic.
She kept going, her gaze drifting somewhere soft. “Tom is… everything. He’s sweet. He cooks. He knows me better than anyone. He stood by me as I put myself back together and never once rushed me.” She lifted her hand, the ring glinting. “And he’s got great taste.”
“Congratulations,” I managed, my throat thick. “Did you… did you get a honeymoon?”
She shook her head. “We had Anna. And a mortgage.”
“I’ll take care of it.” My eyes didn’t move from hers. “A belated wedding gift. Anywhere you want.”
She squeezed my hand. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to.” I tried to smile, though my chest felt like it was caving in. “I’ll even look after Anna, and… Marcus.”
The name stopped me cold.
Marcus.
She named her son after me.
The air seemed to shift. That single thought was enough to crush the weight I’d been carrying for years, enough to swear I’d never let myself fall back into that dark place where I believed I’d ruined her.
I swallowed hard. “What’s he like?”
Her dimples deepened as she spoke. “He’s strong, and kind, and so beautifully quiet, like he’s always taking the world in.” Her hands had been holding mine so long I’d forgotten where she ended and I began. She smiled, her voice softening to something that gutted me.
“And he’s brave. Just like his namesake.”
I didn’t see it until that moment—my name living on in a child I’d never met. It hit me like a fist to the chest: I wasn’t the ruin I’d convinced myself I was. In her eyes, I was more.
I was someone worth carrying forward.
chapter thirty nine
i think persephone cursed me
Istepped back, blinking away the haze that had clouded my eyes, and stared at the finished painting before me.
I didn’t know what time it was. It was early; I knew that much. I could hear the car horns begin to pick up. I could smell coffee brewing downstairs. It was probably Rory—now that sectionals were round the corner, she was at the rink from the crack of dawn until the sun went down.
I’d had way too much coffee. I had to stop after my fourth cup because my hand was shaking so badly I couldn’t paint straight. But I also didn’t want tiredness to claim me and ruin the momentum I’d worked so hard to build.
