Chapter Fourteen #2
“This is where the people who were part of the American Billionaire Club passed away.” He tucks a hair behind my ear. “Mom, this is Lilac. Lilac, this is Mom.”
He pats the spot beside him, and I sit, reading the tombstone.
Loving mother and wife.
May her soul rest in peace.
I never visited my parents’ grave after their death. I couldn’t handle the grief nor face what had happened to them. I often heard growing up that death is the most heartless thing on this planet—and it’s true. I don’t want anyone to ever experience what I went through.
Tears gather in my eyes, and I wipe them away quickly.
Irvin stares at me for a few seconds. “Are you okay, princess?”
“I’m fine. I think it’s unique you honor your mother.”
“She’s the only person I deeply loved. She was my best friend.”
My mother was my best friend up until her passing. She was a strict mother, but she was gentle, soft. Volunteered at the shelter and wrote the biggest check to charity.
I inhale deeply, exhale loudly, and stare at the inky sky. The calmness is overwhelming, consuming. It’s like we’re in our own bubble.
“I—I understand.”
I don’t know how he doesn’t feel out of sorts eating here, but I try my best to be understanding.
“Have you ever lost a loved one?” he asks.
I want to tell him about what really happened to my parents, but I refrain. There’s no need to feel judged for my choices and why I stayed with a psychopath.
“Yes. My grandmother. She died when I was fourteen, and my mother was so devastated. We would have Sunday dinners with her.”
Irvin strokes my lavender hair, watching me carefully. If he suspects I’m hiding something, he doesn’t show it. I don’t want to lose the only good thing in my life.
“When will I meet your parents?”
Maybe in a different reality, he would meet them—if they were alive.
And my father would have loved him. So would my mom.
He’s rich, charming. Although I know they wouldn’t approve of him being a killer or a part of the American Billionaire Club.
My father never spoke well of families who were billionaires, even though he was close to one right before his passing.
I shrug. “I don’t know.”
He places his hand on mine. “If you don’t want to talk about them, then it’s okay.”
I stare at the sky and close my glossy eyes.
Something in me snaps, and tears fall down my cheeks.
The pain of losing my parents hits me. I want to tell Irvin about my parents, about Emerson, and how I’ve been in a state of torture—but I don’t.
People always judge. They act like they’re high and mighty, like they don’t have any skeletons either.
This date is supposed to be happy and fun, but I feel nothing. Absolutely nothing but grief.
I feel bad for lying to Irvin. He deserves so much more than what I’m giving him. Breadcrumbs are the only thing I can offer anyone.
“What’s wrong, princess?”
I shake my head. “It’s nothing. I’m thinking about death.”
“Did you eat today?”
I nod. “I had breakfast.”
“I’m going to start meal prepping for you, because it’s ridiculous that you don’t take care of yourself like you’re supposed to.”
He feeds me a ham and cheese slider, and I eat it in one bite. I’m a lot hungrier than I thought I was.
“I have a lot of things going on in my life. I’ve always been like that when I’m stressed out.”
He pulls me into his lap and strokes my cheek, then kisses my forehead. I can tell him what’s really going on. I should open up to him because Irvin has always been upfront about his past.
“I have something to tell you, Irvin.”
He lifts his eyebrows. “What is it?”
My throat tightens.
“Well… it’s more of a question.”
“Okay.”
I bite my lip. “How would you feel if one of your friends killed their girlfriend’s parents?”
“I don’t have friends, Lilac. Except for you.”
The heat drains from my face. I need to know his perspective.
Ever since I received a message from Ally, I’ve been thinking a lot about her actions—and what she said about it being her fault.
Does she carry guilt as much as I do? I thought about reaching out to her.
But what would I say? I faked my own death and changed my identity?
“What if you did? Hypothetically speaking. Would you judge them for killing them?”
He rubs the back of his head. “It depends on the reasoning, I suppose. Did he drive her to do it?”
“What if the girlfriend thought they could be together after the parents were gone?”
He eyes me up and down, and I fake a smile.
“I’ll kill anyone who gets in the way of our relationship—I mean, harm you. But I’m in no position to judge because I’ve killed countless people. What’s with these hypothetical questions?”
I fiddle with the end of my coat, and my skin burns like a furnace.
“I watched a true crime documentary about a guy who killed his girlfriend’s parents so she could be free from their controlling behavior,” I lie.
“I don’t give a fuck about what other people do. But if you killed someone, then I’ll help get rid of the body, and I’ll cover your tracks.”
“What if I killed someone on purpose—just to kill?”
“Then I would still help you. A few dead bodies aren’t going to keep me away from you. I’m too obsessed with you.” His tone is calm.
Tears trickle down my cheeks, and numbness spreads through my chest. I don’t know what to say. I should tell him what really happened—but I refrain. For a second, I don’t feel judged, and I feel like I can breathe.
“Are you sure you don’t have anything to say to me?” Irvin asks.
I fake a smile. “No, I don’t.”
“You know you can tell me anything, right?” He kisses my forehead.
“I know, Irvin.”
He cups my face, strokes my cheeks, then presses his soft lips to mine. I haven’t felt safe in a man’s arms in a long time.