“You think…” he repeats, obviously waiting for me to finish what I was saying.
“I think… I love…” I take a deep breath, bracing my hands on the steering wheel and squeezing my eyes shut. “Iloveyoutoo.”The words come out in a rush, jumbled all together. Hopefully, he understood me because I don’t know if I can say it again.
“I know you do, Habibi.”
“You know?” I ask, whipping my head around to gape at him incredulously.
“Of course I know. Why wouldn’t you love me? We were literally made for each other. Fated. The fates don’t make mistakes, Habibi.”
I roll my eyes at him because, yes, I think I agree that we are fated, but I do not agree that the gods are infallible. I’m sure they’ve messed up before. Maybe.
“Whatever,” I mutter under my breath and press the start button.
“Habibi,” Ember says, catching my attention with the serious tone of his voice.
I look at him with one eyebrow raised in question.
“I love you. And you love me. It might have been fated by the gods, but I feel like I would’ve loved you even if they hadn’t put us together.”
My eyes tear up, and I fight not to let any of the tears fall. This man is the sweetest and most amazing man on the planet.
“Of course you would’ve loved me anyway. What’s not to love?” I ask, grinning at him mischievously.
“Take me home, and I’ll give you more reasons to love me.”
I peel out of the parking lot and get us home in record time.
Chapter twenty-two
Sunshine
Funeral homes, I’ve learned, are usually somber and respectful places filled with grief and love. My funeral home, at the moment, is neither of those things.
Standing near the front window with Ember beside me, we watch the absolute disaster unfolding across the street. And by disaster, I mean Chad.
“Necromancy has no place in business!” my brother yells into his megaphone. He must have upgraded from his mini karaoke machine.
“No place!” a small group of protesters echoes behind him. Someone blows a whistle, and another person bangs on a pot with a wooden spoon. They all march in a small circle on the sidewalk while bystanders take photos and mingle amongst themselves.
“I’m going to kill him,” I groan, rubbing my eyes until I see stars.
“You can’t kill your brother, Habibi,” Ember says, rubbing my back in soothing circles. “You would miss him. Eventually. Maybe.”
“Technically, I could kill him, and then if I had those feelings, I could resurrect him to apologize,” I say with lifted brows.
“I can’t tell if you’re joking, and that’s concerning,” Ember says, concern clear in his voice.
“I’m totally kidding. Mostly.”
“Stop the use of undead labor!” Chad screams into the megaphone.
My eye twitches violently. I honestly don’t think Chad is someone I would miss.
“Your parents are finally here,” Ember announces cheerfully.
I almost forgot they were coming today. Mom insisted that they have alittle chatwith Chad and me. As if that’ll help anything. Chad has never liked me. No. Scratch that. Chad has always hated me since before I was born. Nochatis going to change that. I might as well get used to the idea that I’ll have to close the funeral home, as sad as that makes me.
Mom looks like she’s brought her own personal storm cloud as she stomps down the sidewalk toward us, while Dadfollows behind her, looking stoic but angry. At least, I think he looks angry. His face kind of looks the same as it always does. Flat and unemotional.
