Chapter 78: Chapter 78
The crowd was thinning out.
Grief had begun to disperse into awkward silences and long glances. Muffled sobs had been replaced by polite condolences.
The mud around the grave was still fresh, the scent of disturbed earth curling in the air, sharp and damp. Celeste stood still, her coat tight around her, one hand in her pocket, the other holding the damp funeral program. Her gaze was still on the soil that now held Eleanor.
Dominic was long gone.
He hadn’t waited. Hadn’t even looked over his shoulder. The black car had pulled away with him inside it like it was a getaway, and maybe, in a way, it was. Escape from the finality. Escape from feeling.
She swallowed, dragging her focus away from the grave. A weight pressed into her chest like a fist she couldn’t unclench.
Amara stepped beside her, slipping her hand through Celeste’s without a word. That was the thing with Amara. She didn’t force conversation. She just showed up, always had. Even when Celeste didn’t think she needed anyone, Amara had a sixth sense for knowing when she did.
They stood in silence for a while. Until Amara tensed.
Subtly.
Celeste didn’t miss it. Her friend’s fingers twitched slightly against hers, giving ger away.
Then, in one abrupt move, Amara turned her face sharply to the side and lifted her free hand, covering half of it with a poised elegance that screamed anything but casual.
Celeste blinked. "What?"
Amara didn’t answer. But her eyes, now dark, sharp flicked across the lot of people around, and rested on someone.
Celeste followed her gaze.
That’s when she saw him.
Leaning against a black Audi, coat collar turned up, and hands in his pockets, he looked really handsome.
He had no umbrella. He was just standing there in the light drizzle like the weather was a suggestion, and not a reality.
He hadn’t moved.
His eyes were also fixed on Amara. Devouring her like he was trying to figure out whether she was real or just some memory that slipped through his fingers once and never quite let him go.
His mouth curved slightly at one corner. It never was a smile. This was something cockier. Something amused. And very, very male.
Amara exhaled slowly and muttered, "Son of a bitch."
Celeste’s brow arched. "You know him?"
"He’s an insignificant human I never thought I’d come across again," Amara said tightly, still shielding part of her face.
Elias didn’t seem to care that she was ignoring him. Or maybe he did. From his expression, one could tell it amused him. He pushed off the car, took one slow step forward and tilted his head like he was tipping an invisible hat.
Then he turned and disappeared behind a wall of umbrellas and lingering guests.
Celeste stared.
"Okay," she murmured, trying not to grin, "I need details."
"No, you don’t," Amara replied, already tugging her coat tighter. "You need wine."
Celeste almost laughed. Almost.
But then her gaze swept the cemetery again, and landed on another figure.
Theresa.
She was standing off to the side, beneath a wide black umbrella. Black heels, black trench, deep red lipstick that didn’t smudge when she sipped from the paper cup in her hand. She wasn’t crying.
She wasn’t looking at the grave.
She was looking at Celeste.
And she wasn’t alone.
Landon stood next to her. His hand was in his pocket, posture easy, like this was just another Sunday brunch gathering and not his grandmother’s funeral.
Celeste’s stomach curled.
Theresa leaned closer to him, and said something. Landon turned slightly, eyes trailing toward Celeste too.
Amara saw it. "Do you know her?"
"That’s Theresa," Celeste said.
Amara’s head snapped. "Theresa as in..."
"His ex," Celeste confirmed. Her voice stayed even, but her throat was dry. "Dominic’s ex," she added, in case Amara gets confused.
Amara took a slow breath. "Tell me she didn’t show up here for him."
Celeste shook her head. "She showed up for the same reason everyone else did. To be seen."
Theresa touched Landon’s arm, with her fingers brushing his sleeve like it was rehearsed. Maybe it was. Maybe everything with her was. She didn’t glance at Dominic’s direction back in the church. Not even once.
Celeste wondered if she even knew what grief felt like. Then again, Dominic hadn’t looked at anyone either.
Celeste’s heart clenched. She didn’t know who she was more furious with—Theresa for existing, or Dominic for disappearing into his grief so far that she couldn’t even reach him.
A part of her wanted to walk over. To pull Landon by the collar and ask him what game he thought he was playing. But there was nothing to gain. And too much to lose.
Amara must’ve read her thoughts. "Don’t. Not today."
Celeste nodded. But her nails dug into her palm. She felt already gone with so many emotions slamming her chest at once.
The last of the mourners began to drift toward the parked cars. The air was thick with unspoken things. So many people left without saying the things that clawed and scratched and begged to be said.
Celeste turned toward Amara. "I want to leave."
Amara’s hand tightened. "Then let’s leave."
They started walking. They walked past the grave, and past the flowers already soaked through. They elegantly walked past the people who had worn black not for respect, but for appearance. Even past the ones who whispered without saying a word as the sky grew darker.
As they passed through the thinning crowd, Celeste saw Theresa again.
Theresa looked at her.
But this time... she smiled. She gave Celeste a small, polite, condescending smile. Her smile was so forward, like she knew something Celeste didn’t.
Amara saw it too. Her hand moved to Celeste’s back protectively.
They didn’t stop walking.
Celeste swallowed lightly, and made a silent promise to herself: if Theresa wanted to have Dominic back, she would let Dominic go, if he also wanted Theresa back.
And if Dominic ever came back from wherever the hell his grief had dragged him, he’d have to pick a side.
She was done standing alone in the shadows of people’s silence.