Page 44 of Tragic Empire
“I promise, Ana.” Brushing some dark strands that cling to her face away, I softly wipe away her tears. “You don’t need to worry about a thing.”
“T-thank you,” she croaks. “Anything for Cole should be Killian’s decision. I think he wanted to be cremated, but I can’t possibly do that before he’s awake, can I? Can his body be stored for that long?”
“I’ll make sure of it.”
I understand why she wants to get all of this out now, it’s probably the thing that’s bothering her the most at the moment. If she purges her worries, there’s a chance that she’ll experience a bit of the relief she so desperately needs.
“Agnes will be here in the morning. Does she know?”
I don’t tell her that itisthe morning. Probably around four or four-thirty. But the sun isn’t up, so I know what she means.
“Gerard contacted her,” I start to explain. “We told her to take time off, if she needed it, or if she was scared to come in. She insisted on coming to take care of you, though she promised to give you space.”
I won’t have this woman making my wife cry, even accidentally. She can see Ana if Ana requests it, and she can cook for her, but I will not allow her to burst in here and make anything worse.
“I hope she’s nice to you,” Ana says in a small voice. “She can be a bit overprotective sometimes.”
Oh, you poor thing… you haven’t seen overprotective yet.
But you will.
“I can handle it,” I assure her, watching as her eyes become heavy. “Get some more sleep, hmm? I’ll be right here.”
“In the bed?” Ana asks, grasping me by the wrist.
“If you want me here.”
She breathes out, nodding. “Don’t leave.”
Never.
ChapterFifteen
Ana
Ispend the next three days in and out of sleep, hardly ever getting out of bed. Cassio brings me food throughout the day, and checks on me periodically. At night, he holds me while I slumber, his presence keeping the nightmares at bay.
Today is the day that my streak of numbly lying in bed comes to an end—at least for now. Staring at my reflection, I wonder how I was able to black out for long enough to shower and do my hair. My slicked back high ponytail isn’t as flawless as I would typically make it, probably due to the fact that I half-arsed dried my hair, but I refuse to do it over.
As it is, I’m not putting on any makeup, opting for a blacked out pair of designer sunglasses instead. They’ll go nicely with my Dolce & Gabbana dress. The garment that has been sitting in the back of my closet unworn, has a similar fit to my wedding gown, actually. Though it fits well, and looks nice, I’d do anything to get back into my pajamas.
Alas, pajamas simply won’t do for a funeral.
Sunglasses and heels in hand, I leave my bedroom with my head down, dreading the event to come. Cassio will be with me, and he’ll keep me afloat, I think. But I don’t want to go either way. A funeral is final. It means that my mother truly isn’t coming back. She’s going in the ground.
Voices find me before I’ve even made it down the stairs.
“Straighten your tie, you neanderthal.”
A grunt followed by a muted slapping noise catches my ear.
“You need therapy, my tie is fine.”
“Show up looking like you were just caught in a tornado, then, see if I care.” The words are huffed.
“Oh, you’ll care. I won’t hear the end of it for months.”
“So fix your fucking tie then!”
