That world wasn’t just him, but she couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t at the heart of it.
Tucking her lower lip between her teeth, she hiked her bag higher on her shoulder and forced herself to climb the steps into Pineridge’s only funeral home.This is what I love to do,she reminded herself as she gripped the shiny brass door knob,and this is the way I can build my own life, with or without Atticus.
Even if she really, really didn’t want to.
Chapter Seventeen
Of course,Atticus picked her up at three on the dot. Circling around the car to open her door, he demanded, “How was it? Did everything go okay?”
“It was good. Director Martin is nice.”
He’d asked her to call him Jeff, but she’d been way too nervous to take him up on it. Jeff Martin was an elderly vampire who’d run the tiny, mostly-secular funeral home for over two hundred years. He said his children had no interest in helping out with the business, so it was a delight to bring her on board. Jeff talked a lot, smelled like stale synth, and desperately needed help with organization, but she liked him.
Being back amongst the dead was centering. They expected nothing from her. They didn’t inspire a dizzying array of conflicting feelings. Tending to them had briefly washed her clean of the worries and hurt that plagued her. She found peace in tending to them, as she always had. It was a quiet, glowing sort of joy that suffused her when she cleaned bloated limbs, combed disheveled hair, and murmured the Merciful Parting in their ear before she draped them in their shrouds.
She treated each one like they were her family, because she never knew if hers was the last touch, the final kindness they’d ever receive.
But her shift was over, and as soon as she stepped out the door to find Atticus leaning against his car, everything she’d avoided thinking about rushed back. Carmine nervously pushed her hair behind her ear and shuffled by him, careful not to give into the temptation to brush her arm against his chest.
In a bid to regain some of her badly shaken confidence before he arrived, it sounded like a good idea to break out the tiny makeup kit Zia had helped her put together. She’d swiped on some of her glittery eyeshadow in the bathroom before he arrived, but now she felt silly and could barely face him as she slid into the seat.
She’d been very careful not to overdo it. Zia taught her how to highlight her features without overwhelming them, which was exactly what Carmine wanted. Sometimes she missed her ceremonial makeup and mask it provided, but mostly she just wanted to feel pretty. Tosparkle,even when it felt like her heart was being squeezed tighter and tighter.
Carmine tucked her knees in close together and waited for Atticus to close the door, but when he took a beat longer than usual, she couldn’t help but glance up.
He stared at her, one hand curled over the top of the door with a white-knuckled grip, and rasped, “Did you put glitter on?”
Carmine hunched her shoulders and turned away. One hand came up automatically to swipe at her eyelid. “Um, no, it’s just?—”
Warm fingers curled around her wrist, stopping her from scrubbing off the rest of her eyeshadow. “Hey, no, doll. Stop, please.”
She couldn’t look at him, let alone speak, so Carmine kept her face turned away. It didn’t do a lick of good when he grippedher chin and turned her head toward him. “You didn’t have that on when I saw you earlier,” he murmured. “I’d remember.”
“You said we were going somewhere after work. I wanted to look nice.”
Carmine peeked through her lashes. His jaw was tense, his body rigid as he stooped to speak to her.
“You look fuckin’ gorgeous,” he rasped.
Her heart leapt. “I… It’s the one you bought me. The pink.”
She had no idea what she planned to say, but it didn’t matter anyway. Atticus stole her ability to speak with a fierce kiss. It didn’t last long, but it didn’t need to. When he pulled back and licked his lips, yearning left nothing but scorched earth in its wake.
His smile was slow and hungry. “Had to check that you’re using the lip gloss I got you, too.”
When he looked at her like that,kissed herlike that, it was hard not to have hope. Just a little. Just enough.
The surprise was a trip to a wonderland of light, noise, scents, and sights. It was anarcade— one that catered to nocturnal beings and, on Monday nights, to adults only.
Carmine stood in the doorway, clutching Atticus’s callused hand as she stared out at the sea of flashing neon lights, squealing machines, and adults meandering around with alcoholic beverages in their hands. It wasn’t all vampires, but night owls of every variety that hollered at prize machines and made fools of themselves on light up dance pads.
Giving her a look of concern, Atticus asked, “Is this too much? We can leave if you?—”
“No!” She squeezed his hand and tried to catch her breath. It wasn’t easy when excitement made it feel a bit like she was standing outside of her own body. “Atty, I want to tryeverything.”
A startled laugh bubbled out of him. Dragging her inside, he announced, “I need some synth first, before you run me ragged.”
The reminder that he still wasn’t drinking from her made her smile falter, but Carmine quickly covered it by gawking at a claw machine full of electronics.
