"You're only inviting your uncle?" I ask, unable to stop myself from wondering about her relationship with her family if only one member is on the guest list.
Maybe she doesn't want to invite her whole family because she's ashamed of marrying you. Did you think about that?the annoying voice in my head asks, and for a split second, red clouds my vision until her voice breaks through the suffocating barrier.
"He's the only one I know who would be happy for me. My father probably wouldn't even look me in the eye, Ivette would tell me I gained a few pounds and I look puffy, and Aria… She’d just sing her mother's tune. It's better this way…"
There's so much bitterness in her voice that, no matter how much she tries to hide it, I feel it in every cell of my body. Those people hurt her. The very people who were supposed to protect her, to bring her comfort. And in this moment, I'm glad she's not inviting them, because I don't know what I'd be capable of doing to them.
My hands move to cup her cheeks, and I see she wants to take a step back. My little sun hates to be vulnerable.
"I don't know how anyone could stand in your rays and not thank the heavens for the privilege."
I watch her swallow hard. Placing her hands over mine, she replies, "Maybe you're the only one who sees those rays."
"That's why you're my little sun.Mine."
No matter how far you run, slonko, there isn’t a single corner of this world where you can hide your light from me. I will always see you shine.
Chapter 19
Roxy
I look around my apartment, the place that has seen me fall apart, the place that has heard all my talks with Luna, that has hidden all my nightmare-filled nights, and I take a deep breath. I know I'll be back soon, but somehow this moment feels like a final goodbye, and a wave of nostalgia washes over me.
Damien is waiting for me in his SUV to take some of my things to his place, and I decide this is where I want to have the talk with my uncle. He’s the only family member I want by my side on my wedding day, the only one who hasn’t forgotten that I didn’t die on that damned night.
In the hallway, I grab my phone and call him. It takes him a few seconds to answer, but his voice instantly brings a smile to my face.
"I thought you'd forgotten about me,amorino," he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice.
My mother was the only one who called meamorino. Since she disappeared, he took over the pet name, and just hearing it reminds me that someone in this world loves me.
"Never. Stop being so dramatic," I say, a laugh escaping my lips.
"To what do I owe the honor of this call? We still had four days until our regular call," he asks, and I catch a thread of unease in his voice.
I look down, searching for the right words, but my uncle knows me better than anyone, so I just say it outright.
"I wanted to invite you to a wedding. My wedding."
I hear him breathing on the other end of the line, and I know I've hurt him. Because I never told him there was someone new in my life. He doesn't know about Damien, or about The Bloody Dahlia and how he has reappeared in my life. Because, once again, I'd rather sweep things under the rug, hoping they'll just go away on their own.
"Henry?" I ask quietly, hating the tremor in my voice.
I hear a rustle in the background before he answers.
"Well, congratulations, I suppose? Though I don't even know the groom's name."
I squeeze my eyes shut and press my palm to my forehead. I know him, and he's disappointed.Who the hell wouldn't be? You just told him you're getting married out of the blue.
So, swallowing the lump in my throat, I tell him a version of the truth. The last thing I need is for him to know about the bastard who's stalking me, because I know he would come here and sit with me at the police station, trying to move mountains just to keep me safe. When the police gave up on my mother's case, he was destroyed. For days, I watched him wither away, knowing his sister had been murdered and that the world had stopped seeking justice for her.
"His name is Damien, and everything was very...sudden. I know I haven't talked to you about him, but we sort of kept running into each other these last few months and from there..."
I let him fill in the rest. I've never been good at talking about my feelings. According to his psychological take, it's my defense mechanism, a result of having two absent parents and no emotional guideposts to follow.
He sighs, and guilt spreads through my veins like poison. He's the only person who didn't forget about me after my mother died, and I'm ambushing him with an invitation to my wedding. I'm a terrible person. It's no wonder no one can love me.
"If you're happy, that's all that matters to me. I'll be there," he says in a calm tone, and some of the turmoil in my soul subsides. "Have you spoken to your father and Ivette?"
