Chapter 28
Corvus
I felt numb after Dalton left, but as the clock ticked away minutes, I dragged myself to my feet and chased down the trail of his perfume, all the way to the door outside.
The ghost of his body heat still lingered on the handle, and I rested my forehead against the hard wood, breathing in the faint notes of grapefruit.
It was over.
We lasted longer than we should have, but the sense of loss was still there, rotting deep inside me.
How was it that a house I’ve lived in on my own for years now suddenly felt hollow?
But soon enough, my self-pity was replaced by worry, because if the wannabe-assassin had told me the truth, then Dalton was still in danger.
I sent two men to find his apartment and make sure he’s safe, then rolled into my bed, plagued by insomnia, and nightmares waiting for me under the very surface of sleep, ready to claw at my soul.
By the time I wake up, it’s noon, but at least I have several messages reporting that Dalton arrived safely at his old apartment and is still there.
I should probably be furious that he left or called me a bastard, but who am I to talk?
Did I really hold a knife to his throat last night?
Sure, I had my reasons, but the hurt in his eyes will haunt me for years to come.
I’d leave me too.
Even my favorite coffee tastes like ashes on my tongue.
I’m not ready to face the world, but I’ve learned to do just that, no matter the circumstance, so I’ll shave, get dressed, and put on a mask of indifference before leaving the house.
Reality won’t change just because I want it to, and my mother needs to know the wedding she’s been working on so tirelessly is off.
I punish myself with a cold shower that has my teeth chattering, then put on a black turtleneck that’s a bit too big on me, and leave.
Mother lives on the other side of Central Park, in an apartment offering wonderful views of the city, but while the dampness in my hair has solidified into ice by the time I enter her building, I’m no more ready to talk to her than I was earlier.
I need to get this over with.
The concierge acknowledges me with a nod, and soon enough I’m walking down the hallway, staring at her door as if it’s the hangman’s noose. I just know how disappointed she’ll be.
My body is a puppet I have to consciously move as my mind drifts back to Dalton’s confession of love every time I let it. Could he have really fallen for me so quickly? After the way I treated him?
I distract myself by ringing Mother’s doorbell and rehearsing what I will say, but I don’t get a word in when she opens after a while and instantly starts talking.
“Corvus! Come in. Is Dalton with you?” She looks out into the corridor but ushers me inside. “I wanted to tell him in person that I managed to book the band he was insisting on for the wedding. Fade to Black, apparently a favorite of yours?”
I stumble over the threshold, because yes, they’re definitely one of my favorites, right next to Corpselock.
They play a mixture of gothic metal and classical music, and while they’re not one of those bands that gathers whole stadiums of fans during tours lasting months at a time, they do have a steadily increasing number of enthusiasts of good taste.
And they… they’ve agreed to perform at my wedding?
Only now I vaguely remember ranting to Dalton about how much better they are than another, more traditional band that took their spot at a festival.
I even played him a few songs where they incorporated the talent of their new cellist. And though Dalton hardly knows or enjoys classical instruments, much more in favor of whatever Spotify’s pop lists suggest to him, he remembered.
Because he wanted the wedding to be special for me.
And for that, I refused to play the violin for him when he asked, because I assumed he didn’t truly care about it anyway.
“Dalton did that?” I ask, breathless as I walk past my mother and the sandalwood carving she purchased in Thailand a few years back.
Her living room is both opulent and minimalist, all gold, beige and brown in pleasant, wavy shapes.
Even the chandelier hovering above the coffee table with a view of Central Park is a work of art, consisting of countless light-up shards suspended from the tall ceiling.
Mother must have been doing yoga, because she’s still in the tight getup, and her mat is rolled out in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows.
“Well, yes. You know he’s been helping me organize so many things.” She beams at me. “What he lacks in wallet contents, he makes up for with enthusiasm.”
He does. Every moment in his company was exciting, whether we cuddled on the sofa, walked, or fucked like intoxicated satyrs. I had him in my life, and now it’s over. I could fool myself and make someone else wear the perfume I composed for him, but it would not be the same.
Just thinking about it, about casting some stranger into the role Dalton fulfilled so perfectly, has me shuddering with cold.
I clear my throat and fold my coat before hanging it over the comically low backrest of my mother’s armchair.
It’s best we both settle down before I give her the news.
But as soon as I’m in the seat, my gaze meets my Father’s.
He looks so serious in the photo hanging on the wall among others where Mother features with family and friends.
He’s in a tux, she’s in a wedding dress so puffy it takes up most of the picture, smiling wide as she looks up at him.
Mother’s gaze follows mine, and she finally sits down. “I know,” she says softly. “You wish he could be here for the big day.”
I didn’t plan to laugh, but the bitterness that’s been sitting in my chest since last night comes out in a series of stuttering chuckles. “I don’t know if he would like to see this.”
“I know you and Dad had your differences, but he would have come around.” She says it with such confidence I almost believe it. Not that it matters anymore.
She makes a small, cheery noise and springs to her feet.
“Wait,” she says, as if I came all the way here just to leave after five minutes.
I glance through the huge windows, surveying snow-dusted Manhattan, but she’s back soon and places a gold ring with a large diamond embedded in the band, in the middle of my palm.
“It was your father’s, remember? Dalton still doesn’t have a ring—”
Her words disappear in the frantic thudding in my ears, and when I see my fingers tremble, I close them around the precious trinket, suddenly sick to my stomach. My father would not consider me worthy of this ring.
“No.”
“No?” She blinks, long lashes moving like butterfly wings.
“Corvus, please… am I being overbearing? After so many years holding back such a secret, I just want you to be happy. I’m sorry honey, but you’ve been so cheerful since Dalton moved in with you, and I want you two to have everything you might want on your special day—”
No point dragging any of this foolishness out any further.
“Dalton moved out,” I say quickly, because there’s a pressure rising inside me, and even the diffuser attached to the wall sickens me.
Mother cocks her head at me. “I don’t understand…”
I take a deep breath and meet her gaze, because I’m not a coward.
“The wedding is not happening. I fucked up, and he’s gone. I’m sorry I wasted so much of your time.”
Mom gets up and starts pacing in front of the window.
I hate causing her so much distress I can literally smell it in the air, but it can’t be helped.
“No, Corvus. What could you have possibly done? Dalton’s crazy about you.
I’m sure it can be fixed.” She stops and pins me to the seat.
“You didn’t cheat on him, did you? I know it can be hard to be faithful for a man as handsome as—”
“No! I—” My mouth feels bitter, as if I’ve just had a whole package of liquorice, but there’s no point keeping up the charade that kept Dalton from drowning.
Not in front of Mother. “I lied. I met him just before the hunt, and I decided to keep him, all right? So we’ve only been together three weeks, and here he was, confessing his love, and I figured it must be either a matter of money, or him acting on someone’s behalf, so they can get to me. ”
She sucks in her lips as she processes that in silence, and I feel like a bug under a microscope.
“And you told him that when he confessed his feelings,” she fills in slowly, then sighs.
“You’re just like your father, Corvus. You know, at the beginning of our relationship, he was so paranoid, he got it in his head that I was unfaithful to him.
I wasn’t, of course, I was head over heels in love with him.
He was so intense, and I fell so fast. But I couldn’t take the suspicion anymore.
It can wear you down. When I moved out, he finally took his head out of his ass and saw what he did to our marriage. ”
I groan. “And what’s the moral of this story?”
She spreads her arms. “The moral is you can’t have love without trust, Corvus!
If you don’t want the wedding, if you don’t love him, by all means, let’s call it off, but if you’re standing in the way of your own happiness, you must fight it.
” Mother walks over to an open cardboard box in the corner and rips up some paper to pull out a few postcards.
“Look at these,” she pushes what I realize are wedding menus into my hand.
“Does a man secretly scheming to kill you fight me about the menu design so that it references your favorite black and white movies? You wouldn’t believe how stubborn he was being! ”
White ink stands out on black paper. Inside frames reminiscent of the dialogue displays from old movies I’ve shown him is a list of dishes and beverages.
My heart is so damn heavy as I look at it, recognizing one of the starters as the same dish we had the first time we ate out together.
It’s cute… like something from one of those cheesy rom-coms I refused to watch until Dalton beat me at a game of cards.
And while the idiot part of me that would rather stay cold and alone forever than risk having my heart broken reminds me that this is exactly what someone might do to manipulate me, Mother is right—there are far easier methods of achieving such goals.
Dalton’s was to… simply make me happy and show me how he feels. And I shoved the knife I used to kill one of the men who attacked us against his throat.
With a deep exhale, I hide my face in my hands, drowning in the ever-growing flood of memories. He’s so kind and thoughtful in each one, and I… I’ve kept him at a distance, so he doesn’t touch the part of me I hide deep inside.
“I drove him away,” I choke out, so ashamed I can’t stand it. So maybe he was quick to confess his love, but why am I judging him for it and looking for tricks? He’s not some love-bombing psycho, Dalton’s just excited about me and wears his heart on his sleeve.
Mother slaps the menus out of my hand, because she always has to be dramatic. “Then get him back!”
Unbelievable.
“Easy for you to say. You didn’t see his eyes when he was leaving.
The best I can do for him now is to stay away,” I say, my voice getting ever raspier as I remember my father’s final words, spoken to me while he was choking on his own blood.
“Maybe it’s for the best. Father wouldn’t have approved of this. ”
She crosses her arms on her chest and looks out of the window. “Your father didn’t approve of mixing shrimp and chicken.”
“Be serious, Mom. You know he would have hated it. It’s not what he wanted for me.”
She turns around with a scowl unusual for her sunshine features.
“No, Corvus, you be serious. I loved your father so much it sometimes hurts to remember, but he didn’t hold the answers to all the questions of the universe.
We don’t have children to rule over them.
Children become adults and make their own choices.
In fact, your dad had rebelled against his own family.
He was brought up to be… an enforcer.” Mother knows the business but chooses euphemisms to avoid its reality.
“But he had an interest in chemistry and medicine, talent in the subject, and the stubbornness of an ox. He did what your grandfather didn’t approve of.
So yes, I believe he would have eventually come around to accepting your relationship.
He’s not with us anymore, so we can’t test that theory.
You have to live for yourself, Corvus. Not for your father, or even for me. ”
With that, she sits down across from me and crosses her arms, nose pointing at the ceiling ever so slightly.
I try to poke holes in her logic, and remember all the times when she was the one being unreasonable, but this time her argument is flawless.
Especially as nobody knew Father the way she had.
At the end of the day, my life is mine, regardless of the promise I made to a dying man.
It was cruel of him to demand things of me in that final moment, but as Mother pointed out, I am just like him. And I also fucked up.
“I… need to see him,” I mumble.
She smirks and points out her expensive watch. “Tick-tock. Wedding’s next week.”