“His face is… off. His father is dead and he’s not shredding any tears.”
“Everyone handles grief differently.”
That’s not it.
“If Igor wanted to kill his father, he’d have done it by now.”
“I know.”
“So, he was at his father’s side when Valerian fell ill and said goodbye before everyone else,” says Lila.
I’m still not convinced. I sit back into the couch, staring at Igor on the TV. “He always lies.”
Lila sighs, bringing me in tighter. “I know this isn’t easy for you.”
“Igor’s speech?” says Mom, entering the room. “You’re watching it again?”
“It’s her way of processing things.” Lila is still rubbing my back.
“But Igor has always been a liar.” I grab the TV remote, flicking back a few days to when they first officially announced Valerian’s death.
I press play, paying close attention to Igor in the background, hands clasped behind his back, chin down as the company’s CFO makes the announcement.
“Why isn’t he crying?”
“Like I said?—”
“I need to speak to Igor,” I say, jumping off the couch.
“Sweetheart,” says Mom, catching me, “you gave birth only a month ago. You need to take it easy.”
“I’ll take it easy after I speak to Igor.”
Lila and Mom flash each other a look
“She needs clarity,” I hear Lila murmur to Mom as I rush into my bedroom, finding my phone.
I fell asleep holding onto it last night in bed, watching the clips, reading the articles; alternating between feeling everything and nothing, all in the same breath.
I throw the bedding aside and crash on the mattress, phone in hand, ready to text my psycho ex.
Except, I scroll through my notifications and see a message from him.
IGOR: I know this is very last minute, but will you come to his funeral today? I don’t want to make a big deal out of it. Valerian would want it to be small, close knit. He would want you and the baby to be there. I’m assuming you gave birth to them by now?
My heart falls into my stomach. I sit up in bed and reply to the message.
ME: Tell me the time and we’ll be there.
The perks of being a fashion designer are endless when it comes to transportation. I can buy the expensive Ubers and not feel like I’m breaking the bank anymore.
I’m wearing my own line, dressed in a black pencil skirt, heels and a blazer to match. I couldn’t decide what to do with my hair. After playing around with some hairstyles for a half hour, I decided to wear it natural—the way I know Valerian would have liked.
I turn from the window, reaching over to kiss Hope in her car seat. We’re reaching the mountains, the landscape changing as we make our way into the city.
Igor is holding the funeral at Valerian’s estate in Beverly Hills, where he now lives permanently.
I reach for the tissues in my pocket, dabbing my eyes. I left home looking like I’d rolled straight out of bed, putting minimal effort into my appearance. I brushed my teeth, splashed my face with cold water and dressed. I couldn’t stand the thought of puttingon makeup, making myself look pretty when I was already looking dreadful.
