Page 72 of Crocodile Tears
“He won’t always be that famous, you know,” Hannah said tentatively. “Remember when we were all obsessed with Oliver James?”
“Who?” Finch asked.
“Exactly,” Hannah replied smugly. “Maybe one day, you?—”
“No. No maybe one days,” I refuted. “I don’t want to think about that. It hurts too much to hang onto something I need to let go.”
“You’re right, screw him,” Hannah said definitively, and I loved how she immediately switched tact to support me. “We should print out a bunch of photos of him and burn them.”
“I can Google hexes?” Frankie offered.
“We are not going tohexhim.” I slapped a hand to my forehead and rubbed the headache building behind my eyes. “That’s what makes this all so hard,” I lamented. It would’ve been so much easier if Deacon had done somethingunforgivable. I wish I could blame him for everything falling apart, but there were forces beyond his control at work. It just made everything all the harder to accept. “He didn’t do anything wrong. I ended things. He’s faultless.”
“Apart from sleeping with a Madigan,” Finch cut in. “That is completely unforgivable.”
“Oh, come on,” Frankie bemoaned. “Lynx may be crazy, but she’s also crazy hot. And he was a rock starandsingleandhe and Dove hadn’t talked in over a decade at that point. I think you need to cut the guy some slack.”
“Never,” Finch vowed.
“Rehashing all of this really isn’t helping,” I grumbled.
“You know, normally my comforting would involve something a lot stronger than tea,” Finch added, nodding to the mug in my hand. “Why don’t we go to the Salty Dog for drinks tonight? I have the key to go water the plants, and there’s some wonderful vintages just sitting lonely on the shelves.”
I gave my older sister a weak smile. “That’s okay. I just need some space, I think.”
The three of them all tsked and clicked their tongues as if they’d heard the lie before it had even come out of my mouth.
Hannah stood up out of the rocking chair and turned toward me. She grabbed me by the hand and pulled me to a stand, wrapping me up in the warmest, fiercest hug. “You’ve taken care of me so much the last few months,” she murmured as tears pricked my eyes. “Let us take care of you now, okay?”
With that, I dropped my head into her shoulder and cried. Frankie and Finch scrambled out of the porch swing, carrying Simon over and wrapping us up in a group hug.
“We’ve got you, Dovey,” Finch soothed, rubbing a hand down my back.
And I knew in that moment that no matter how badly my heart shattered, no matter how many scars this left me with, itwouldn’t break me. I’d always have my family to help put me back together. I took a shaking breath and squeezed them back.
“Okay, I think I need to hold Simon again,” I said, and they all laughed.
I took my sweet nephew from Frankie and felt all of the tension in my muscles ease. Even in the depths of heartbreak, I was surrounded by so much love.
I sniffed as I looked down at him. “I’m going to be okay.” And I wished more than anything that I believed it.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Deacon
Ivy Blanc and I sat across from each other in the latest swanky New York hot spot, smiling at each other like we both had sexy secrets.
“I swear to God, if I go to one more restaurant that serves foam as food, I’m going to have a complete breakdown,” I muttered, staring down at a bubbling froth on my plate.
“My cheeks hurt,” Ivy murmured through her smile. “Men have it so lucky. You can just smirk.”
“My cheeks hurt too if it’s any consolation,” I added.
“Someone’s always watching,” Ivy complained in a tight singsong. “At least we’re not alone under this microscope.”
A woman wandered over, and Ivy’s bodyguard, Sergei, was about to intervene when I gave him a mild head shake and he allowed her to pass.
“Hi,” the middle-aged woman said, giving us a half-wave. “So sorry to interrupt, but . . .”
