“Is this from you?” I ask the headstone, holding up the orchid. “How much are flowers in heaven?”
“Expensive, Ella. Say thank you.”
I smile. “Thank you.”
“Got another boyfriend yet?”
“I’ve got several,” I say, fully aware I’m talking to myself, but preferring to imagine a conversation than ramble on one-sided about my total lack of a life. “They’re all extremely handsome.”
“Better looking than me? I doubt that.”
“Arrogance isn’t sexy, Asher.” I stroke Motor’s head. He’s staring at the headstone. “Besides, it doesn’t matter how good-looking they are. They didn’t build me bookcases.”
I can almost hear him laughing.
“Speaking of which, are you ever gonna go back and see them? I spent hours on those things. You still have to put them in the author's hometown order, remember?”
I play with my fingers. “I’ve been busy.”
“With all your boyfriends?”
“With missing you, jackass,” I mumble. “Crying takes up a lot of my time, you know.”
I close my eyes when I say it and picture his face the dayhe’d died. The way he’d looked at me.
“I don’t like the thought of you crying over me, Ella.”
I shrug, tears in my eyes. “Tough. I’m getting good at it.”
“Good at what?”
I wipe my eyes quickly and turn. A familiar blonde woman stands close. She’s wearing what looks like a designer coat, the collar heavy with white fur, the dark material hugging her body.
Twisting on the blanket to get a better look, I say, “You’re Monty.”
“The one and only.” Her hair is twisted into a low bun, and she looks almost angelic. Her eyes flick to Asher’s headstone. “So, it’s true, then. He’s really dead.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I had no phone with his contacts, and I didn’t know who to call … you really didn’t know?” Monty shakes her head, and my heart breaks all over again. Guilt twists in my stomach. “I’m so sorry.”
Silence falls between us, Monty’s eyes fixed on the headstone. “Can I sit with you?”
I nod. She sits beside me, brows pulled together in clear annoyance.
“This is like fucking camping,” she mumbles. “Why didn’t you bring a chair?”
“Glamping at a graveyard is probably frowned upon.”
“Yes, well.” Monty sighs. “Maybe that’s why people are always crying here. A glass of wine and a heated blanket could go a long way.”
I actually laugh. This woman is strange. I don’t remember too much of our interaction in the lobby, but I know she was found drugged and unconscious in Gable’s apartment after everything that happened. My dad told me her story about working with computers checked out, andthat she returned to England almost immediately after Asher died, but something has never added up for me.
I may have been a little tipsy that day, but Asher seemed tense around Monty. Gable had, too, and I have a feeling it takes a lot to rattle Gable Flynn.
I cast glances at the woman beside me. She might be the most beautiful woman I’ve seen in real life, with perfect cheekbones and bright green eyes. She certainly looks the picture of innocence but radiates something totally different.
Power. Self-assurance.
Danger.
