Chapter 35
DOVE
It’s hard to name the emotions that flicker like fireflies under my skin as I stand at my sister’s grave with the man she loved.
Who’s now my husband.
Who I’m madly in love with.
It’s impossible to know what to think or say, which is probably why Bane and I are utterly silent right now.
It’s mostly a ceremonial resting place. After Lorenzo’s meth-house went up like a bomb, right after Antonio and the others dragged me out, there wasn’t much left in the way of remains to be buried.
But I’ve still come to this place many times over the years.
To say hi and tell her the random shit going on in my life.
To cry.
To mourn my friend.
…My twin.
There’s so much to wonder about that I don’t know where to begin. Why I was told that Lark was Agatha’s granddaughter, and that my mother died during childbirth, when I now have video evidence that was untrue.
Worse, why Agatha never said a thing. Fury brews inside me when I think of all those fucking years she looked me in the eye with that sweet smile and lied to my face about everything.
Did my dad know?
Did Lark?
Where is that cabin on the beach, and why were Mom and Agatha there with Lark and me as newborns? Where was my father? And who was the man they were waiting for a call from, something to do with passports?
I haven’t told anyone any of this, not even Chiara, which I feel shitty about.
Because if this is true, that makes Lark her half-sister, too.
But I can’t talk to her about it yet. Not until I have answers to at least some of the million questions in my head.
I take a slow, shaky breath. I reach my arm out and curl my fingers into Bane’s. When I sense a flicker of hesitation, I tense. The lump in my throat grows as I turn to look up at him.
“Is this…weird?” I say quietly, wincing and pulling my hand away.
I’m suddenly acutely aware that as strange and maybe a little uncomfortable as it is for me to be standing here with him at the grave of the girl who was going to marry him first, it’s possibly even more uncomfortable for him. I personally feel like a home-wrecking cunt. But he must feel…
God, I can’t even imagine.
My face twists. “I’m sorry, maybe we shouldn’t have come…” My gaze drops to the grass before I look back to him. “Seriously… Is this weird for you?”
Bane’s face is stoic. But then the corners of his lips curl up as his head swivels, his eyes dragging to mine. Slowly, he smiles and shakes his head.
“No.” His mouth twists. “Well, less weird than you'd think,” he says quietly.
“I feel awful right now,” I mumble, turning to look at Lark’s gravestone.
“Don’t.”
My pulse skips as he takes my hand and squeezes it firmly.
“People enter our lives, and sometimes they leave them sooner than we'd like.” He turns toward me, his eyes locked with mine. “But the world keeps turning. We keep breathing. We keep choosing to live, every day.”
I look back to Lark’s resting place, smiling weakly.
“Is this wrong?” I say quietly. “Would she hate us for this?”
I think I'm asking her as much as him.
He shakes his head from side to side. “I think she’d be proud of the woman you’ve become,” he murmurs. “Of all the challenges you've overcome to be here still; breathing, standing on a world that keeps turning.” He smiles. “Keeping her in your heart.”
We turn back to the gravestone, and stand there in silence for another minute, until he squeezes my hand again.
“I’m going to give you a minute alone with her,” he says gently.
“I—you don’t have to…” I squeeze my eyes shut. “I know you…”
My heart twists around itself.
“I know you loved her…”
Bane stretches his large hand out to cup my cheek. When I open my eyes, I see him standing right in front of me, looking deep into my soul.
“Yes, I loved her,” he says quietly. “And I love you.” He shakes his head slowly. “That’s not an either/or statement, baby.”
My brows knit. “I’m not jealous that you loved her,” I blurt. “I just—”
Fuck.
No.
That’s a big, fat lie.
I am jealous. It’s just that I fucking hate myself for it.
“You’re allowed to feel whatever you feel, little bird,” he murmurs. “And you’re allowed to feel it without beating yourself up about it.”
He leans down and kisses me softly.
“If I say something, do you promise to take it at face value without looking for a deeper meaning, or wondering if I mean something else by it?”
I smile wryly. “I’ll try.”
Bane leans down to touch his forehead to mine.
“I’m confident that she’d be more than okay with this,” he murmurs. “With you and me. I need you to believe me on that.”
My eyes close as I drop my forehead to his chest.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
Bane lifts my chin up with a finger before he leans in to kiss me.
“Take as much time as you need,” he murmurs. “I’ll be in the car.”
I watch him walk away, then turn to give my sister my full attention. I lift the bouquet of roses in my hand and smile awkwardly at her resting place before I kneel and place them against the headstone.
“Well, fuck,” I sigh. “This turned into a whole soap opera, didn’t it?”
I put my hand out and rest my palm on the smooth marble with the carved lettering.
Lark Imogen Peltier.
“I’m sorry,” I choke quietly, my brow furrowing. “I’m sorry for taking him.”
My eyes close, and a single tear trickles down my cheek as I lean close and kiss the top of her stone.
“But thank you,” I add, smiling as happy tears start to fall. “Thank you for him.”
Between grief and joy, pain and relief.
That’s where I meet my sister’s spirit.
With a tear and a smile, and love in my heart.