I can’t put on my shoes and jacket any faster. I only have my phone and wallet on me, but it will have to do.
Corvus doesn’t shout. He doesn’t chase me. The house is eerily quiet as I burst through the door and step into the morning chill.
It’s snowing. Of course. Because my life wasn’t bad enough already.
Chapter 28
Corvus
IfeltnumbafterDalton left, but as the clock ticked away minutes, I dragged myself to my feet and chased down the trail of his perfume, all the way to the door outside. The ghost of his body heat still lingered on the handle, and I rested my forehead against the hard wood, breathing in the faint notes of grapefruit.
It was over.
We lasted longer than we should have, but the sense of loss was still there, rotting deep inside me.
How was it that a house I’ve lived in on my own for years now suddenly felt hollow?
But soon enough, my self-pity was replaced by worry, because if the wannabe-assassin had told me the truth, then Dalton was still in danger.
I sent two men to find his apartment and make sure he’s safe, then rolled into my bed, plagued by insomnia, and nightmares waiting for me under the very surface of sleep, ready to claw at my soul.
By the time I wake up, it’s noon, but at least I have several messages reporting that Dalton arrived safely at his old apartment and is still there. I should probably be furious that he left or called me a bastard, but who am I to talk? Did I really hold a knife to his throat last night? Sure, I had my reasons, but the hurt in his eyes will haunt me for years to come.
I’d leave me too.
Even my favorite coffee tastes like ashes on my tongue.
I’m not ready to face the world, but I’ve learned to do just that, no matter the circumstance, so I’ll shave, get dressed, and put on a mask of indifference before leaving the house. Reality won’t change just because I want it to, and my mother needs to know the wedding she’s been working on so tirelessly is off.
I punish myself with a cold shower that has my teeth chattering, then put on a black turtleneck that’s a bit too big on me, and leave.
Mother lives on the other side of Central Park, in an apartment offering wonderful views of the city, but while the dampness in my hair has solidified into ice by the time I enter her building, I’m no more ready to talk to her than I was earlier.
I need to get this over with.
The concierge acknowledges me with a nod, and soon enough I’m walking down the hallway, staring at her door as if it’s the hangman’s noose. I just know how disappointed she’ll be.
My body is a puppet I have to consciously move as my mind drifts back to Dalton’s confession of love every time I let it. Could he have really fallen for me so quickly? After the way I treated him?
I distract myself by ringing Mother’s doorbell and rehearsing what I will say, but I don’t get a word in when she opens after a while and instantly starts talking.
“Corvus! Come in. Is Dalton with you?” She looks out into the corridor but ushers me inside. “I wanted to tell him in person that I managed to book the band he was insisting on for the wedding.Fade to Black, apparently a favorite of yours?”
I stumble over the threshold, because yes, they’re definitely one of my favorites, right next toCorpselock. They play a mixture of gothic metal and classical music, and while they’re not one of those bands that gathers whole stadiums of fans during tours lasting months at a time, they do have a steadily increasing number of enthusiasts of good taste.
And they… they’ve agreed to perform at my wedding? Only now I vaguely remember ranting to Dalton about how much better they are than another, more traditional band that took their spot at a festival. I even played him a few songs where they incorporated the talent of their new cellist. And though Dalton hardly knows or enjoys classical instruments, much more in favor of whatever Spotify’s pop lists suggest to him, he remembered. Because he wanted the wedding to be special for me. And for that, I refused to play the violin for him when he asked, because I assumed he didn’t truly care about it anyway.
“Dalton did that?” I ask, breathless as I walk past my mother and the sandalwood carving she purchased in Thailand a few years back.
Her living room is both opulent and minimalist, all gold, beige and brown in pleasant, wavy shapes. Even the chandelier hovering above the coffee table with a view of Central Park is a work of art, consisting of countless light-up shards suspended from the tall ceiling. Mothermust have been doing yoga, because she’s still in the tight getup, and her mat is rolled out in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows.
“Well, yes. You know he’s been helping me organize so many things.” She beams at me. “What he lacks in wallet contents, he makes up for with enthusiasm.”
He does. Every moment in his company was exciting, whether we cuddled on the sofa, walked, or fucked like intoxicated satyrs. I had him in my life, and now it’s over. I could fool myself and make someone else wear the perfume I composed for him, but it would not be the same.
Just thinking about it, about casting some stranger into the role Dalton fulfilled so perfectly, has me shuddering with cold.
I clear my throat and fold my coat before hanging it over the comically low backrest of my mother’s armchair. It’s best we both settle down before I give her the news. But as soon as I’m in the seat, my gaze meets my Father’s. He looks so serious in the photo hanging on the wall among others where Mother features with family and friends. He’s in a tux, she’s in a wedding dress so puffy it takes up most of the picture, smiling wide as she looks up at him.
